#and if that meant writing over-described Destiel make outs... well that's not all bad >.>

[67midnightwriter]

Bygone: Teach Me

A/N: This was originally intended for @thoughtslikeaminefield​ for her birthday before the world exploded. It was intended to be a quick one shot, but as I was writing I fell in love with Dean, Leia, and Cas’ relationship, so this will end up being a snapshot series. It won’t be written in order, but eventually it will all be written lol. Thanks to @mskathywriteswords​ for the deep beta!

Dean x OFC x Cas no destiel

Warning: feels and squirting

Smut

W/C: 4,269

There are many things Dean Winchester is good at: drawing out both pleasure and pain, locating both good drink and good food no matter where you plop him down, shrugging off compliments he’ll never believe he really deserves, and battling demons, of both the metaphorical and physical varieties. These are the things he (mostly) prides himself on, the base stones with which he builds the foundation of his character. Good or bad, they’re solid and steady through the storm of time. 

He won’t admit it, but among the other qualities lays the fact that he is a good teacher. One might even venture to say that he is an excellent teacher, with seemingly endless pools of kind patience, an uncanny ability to know how to reach even the most challenging and troubled of students, and oceans of knowledge from which to quench the thirst of the curious. It’s his unintentional personal oversight of this key flagstone that has birthed the confusion knotting his forehead currently. 

“Look Cas, I’m honored, really, I am...” Dean’s hand runs through his hair and then down his face, a nervous habit he’s picked up over the years, though he’s not sure where or when. He takes a deep breath before gathering the courage to continue. “But when I told you some things are better learned from watching, this...” He gestures to the room, unable to articulate the words he needs, unsure if any are actually needed, “is not what I meant.”

“I need you to teach me.” 

Dean tries to keep his face blank, but it has a habit of thinking out loud. His eyes grow wide, his eyebrows fly high, and his bottom lip ends up pinched between his teeth to hold in a startled laugh. He steadies himself with a deep breath, slowly letting it out of his nose while he counts to ten.

“Cas, man, it’s pretty self explanatory…”

Leia, currently lying back on the bed she shares with Cas, her honey eyes taking in the awkward exchange between Dean and his best friend. Her deep red hair cascaded over her shoulders like a mane of fire, as she chortled over Castiel’s unamused huff and eyeroll. 

“Dean, I’ve been watching humans mate and reproduce since before they were bipedal. I understand and am perfectly capable of bringing Leia pleasure through standard sexual intercourse.”

Dean suppresses a wince over Cas’s blunt wording; even years of friendship can’t take away the resounding feeling as though he’s talking about sex with a parent. 

If he’s seen so much, shouldn’t he be teaching me?

The unwelcome thought crosses his mind, paired with an image of Cas in a full bodied latex suit, and he physically shakes it away.

“Then I don’t understand why I’m here.”

“Cas, I think you’d better just show Dean. It’ll be easier that way.”

Castiel frowns as he considers this, nodding as he settles on a decision. “I suppose you’re correct. Dean, may I?”

Dean closes his eyes to think, rubbing at his hairline like it will help ease his thoughts. He realizes the confusion is going to eat at him until he barges back in and confronts them anyways, and decides that he’d rather skip the forty minutes of pacing and get straight to the point. He still has a list of things to get done today, one that leaves little room for such distractions. “I guess. Let’s get this over with Feathers, I’ve got guns to clean.”

Cas’ lips thin at Dean’s use of the nickname, but he moves past without comment. “You might feel mildly disoriented.” He presses two fingers to each of Dean’s temples, and the world around Dean shimmers, causing his stomach to roll. His eyes close against the sensation, and it vanishes before he can even be sure he really felt it to begin with. 

Dean opens his eyes and finds himself sucked into one of his favorite memories; quite literally. His lips are sealed around Leia’s clit as she writhes underneath him, her cunt clenching around his fingers as she cums. He doesn’t stop, even when she tries to pull away. Instead, he shifts the arm not currently three fingers deep, and pins her hips in place. She breaks from panting to whine his name, high and desperate, but he knows she’s been holding out on him. Her thighs squeeze, one on top of one shoulder, one underneath the other, and he replaces his mouth with his thumb so he can turn and bite the thigh against his ear. He’s rewarded with a sharp, ragged gasp, his thumb circling relentlessly as his fingers push against her g-spot. Her shoulders lift part way off the bed and for a moment she looks like a marionette, her eyes open but unseeing, her mouth hanging slack. He can feel her whole body tensing around him, and he can’t help but grin. 

“Come on, Honey, let go for me,” he drawls, his accent thick and voice ragged. 

He can feel her let go with his finger tips, and his eyes study her face as his skin tingles in a mix of awe, pride, and lust. Castiel chooses that moment to rip him back into the present, and he uses the guise of disorientation to close his eyes and steady his beating heart. His fingers twitch at his side with the urge to wipe phantom moisture off on his jeans, and his cock stirs in his jeans. He rattles off the safety features of the newest Dodge minivan in his head, willing an awkward erection away. 

Traction control, tire pressure monitoring, rear child safety locks.

Since the universe decides against opening a black hole directly beneath his feet, Dean opens his eyes. He looks first at Leia, her warm eyes filled with concern, before turning to meet Cas’ cool blue gaze. 

“Will you teach me?”

“Cas...” Dean runs his hand across his face, his eyes flicking between his friends. “I don’t know. Even if I could, I’m not sure how I would.” 

“I could always take the information straight from the source.” Castiel, Dean was sure, was immune to any and all awkwardness. 

“Castiel! I told you that if Dean didn’t want to help, you would let him go, without any brain spelunking.”

“If you would let me use my grace-”

“You can use your grace to- nevermind. I don’t want to know.” Leia smirks and shoots Dean a wink, and he shudders mentally.

Dean sighs again, his mind battling with its southern counterpart, and blessedly Castiel and Leia stay silent. He gazes at the angel before him, thinking of all the times he’s been saved by his hand, how Castiel has rarely ever asked him for anything but trust. He thinks of Leia, who has been by his side for the better part of 20 years, spent the prime of her life trying to keep his ass alive, and how much she deserves someone who could give her all the things he can’t (or in this case, all the things he can) do. She’s happy with Cas. Cas wants to give her everything she could want. Dean refuses to think about where else Cas would turn for advice, and realizes the decision has been made. 

“Alright. If everyone is okay with this...” Dean gestures to the room again, still unsure there are appropriate words to describe the situation. “I’ll help you.” Leia smiles softly at him, relief washes over Castiel’s face. Dean swallows hard, and thinks there might be a rock settled in his stomach. “How…?”

“Some things are best learned by watching.” 

Of course that would be the one piece of advice Castiel would latch on to. 

“Right. Okay. Well…”

Attuned to his emotions after so many years living beside him, Leia gets up from the bed and stands between him and Castiel. Headstrong, with no room for nonsense, she grasps the open sides of his flannel, pulls him flush against her body, and presses her lips to his. 

It’s been eleven years since they shared a kiss, but it seems as though no one informed their mouths. They fit together the same, and Dean finds himself running his hands up her arms, across her back, pulling her closer, one hand traveling up to the back of her head. She relaxes against him, and it would be so easy for Dean to pretend Castiel isn’t there, to believe that they never fell apart, to find safety and solace in her touch once more, to break down the walls he spent so long building that he can no longer remember if they’re for her sake or his. 

He stiffens, but Leia already knows. She kisses her way across his jaw on up to his earlobe, nibbling softly just behind the curve. She pulls his earlobe with her teeth, before speaking in a heavy low voice. 

“It’s okay, Dean. I want this. Please.” She breathes the last word. Dean wonders briefly if he imagined it, before his resolve crumbles. 

Dean nods, not trusting himself to speak. Leia slips his shirt from his shoulders, and he lets it fall to his feet. He stops thinking, instinct taking over. Her shirt joins his, and he grins when he finds she’s decided to forgo a bra. He backs her on to the bed, his lips trailing hot against her skin as he makes his way up to meet her lips. Castiel shifts behind him, the rustling of his trench coat as he places it on the back of the chair reminding Dean that he’s doing this for a reason, not just living out fantasies. Dean gives control back to his brain, and slows the urgency of his kisses while wondering how to give Castiel a step by step guide on how to make his girlfriend squirt.

“The first-“ Dean’s voice is too low, too thick with lust, so he clears his throat and attempts to continue. “You gotta start-“ Leia stops his stuttering with a kiss. 

“This isn’t going to work if you spend the entire time stumbling over a play by play like it’s your first day on ESPN.”

Dean hangs his head in defeat, the tips of his hair brushing against Leia’s nude chest as it rises. An apology is clawing its way out when Castiel speaks from a spot behind him. 

“Just pray to me.”

Dean turns to meet the cool blue gaze over his right shoulder, and Cas nods at whatever emotions are swirling over his own eyes. Dean finds no doubt in Cas’, no uncertainty, just oceans of trust with swells of excitement that Dean is still sure he doesn’t deserve. He turns his attention back to Leia, who turns a similar trusting, warm gaze on him. She smiles, lips puffy and face relaxed in a nostalgic lust. 

“Okay?” Her voice is sweet, safe, and Dean smiles as the rock in his stomach cracks. 

“Yeah. Okay.��

Dean leans in for a deep kiss, invading her mouth with an expert tongue before making his way down her neck. He prays as he goes along, explaining every touch to Castiel. Leia moans beneath him, leaning in to his touch as he strips her, blunt nails coaxing goosebumps to her skin. He trails kisses and bites down her body, the thumb of his right hand brushing over her nipple, his left resting on her hip as he settles between her thighs. She feels hot and and solid beneath him, and the way she’s relaxed, honey eyes half lidded and full of lust, calms him. Dean bites the inside of her thigh, soothes it with a kiss, and then the absurdness of what they’re doing hits him.

He nearly laughs. It creeps up his throat from deep inside him, threatening to break this tender moment, and he’s not sure that he can hold it in. 

If anyone would have told me, at any point in time, that I would be praying to an angel while demonstrating how to make his girlfriend squirt-

Leia’s hands in his hair bring him back from the edge of hysterics. She pulls, hard enough to move his head, and he twists her nipple in retaliation. She hisses, arching, and she chuckles.

“Focus, Cowboy.”

Dean grins and gets to work. He tightens his grip on her hip, uses his tongue until she’s keening for more, pulling his face closer and fighting against his hold to grind against him. He squeezes her nipple once more before he adjusts himself, latching on to her clit and thrusting the two middle fingers on his left hand in her sodden cunt. He can feel her clenching desperately already, and within a few moves of his fingers she’s cumming.

Once the first one is out of the way, the main key is to keep going, Cas. No matter what she says, or if she tries to pull away, keep going.

Her low pitched guttural groan fills the room, and her thighs clench around his head. He can’t help but chuckle, letting her hip go long enough to force his left arm between her thigh and his ear, pressing the length of his forearm down across her hips and grabbing tight to her right. He adjusts, filling the emptiness where his left hand had been with his right, kissing and nipping at her thigh while rubbing her clit in rough circles with the pad of his thumb. She fidgets, trying to pull away from the overstimulation, desperate whimpers falling sweetly on the air, her body trembling around him. She begins to buck, fighting to pull away, and he can sense Cas stiffen behind him. 

This is where you make your mistake. She’s so close Cas, you can feel her tightening and trying to fight it, but if you really want to make her happy you’ve got to push her into it. Rub her gspot harder, make sure you never let up on her clit, and tell her what you want. She loves that.

“Come on Honey,” Dean purrs, his voice deep and heavy with lust, his accent dripping from his words. “Let go for me.” 

Present mirrors the past, and Dean is awash in deja vu.

Leia’s mouth opens, her whines cutting off to a silent scream. Dean can feel every one of her muscles clenching, her fingers gripping so hard around the bedsheets that the fabric is protesting. The pressure continues building, her shoulders coming off the bed of their own accord, turning her into a marionette of pleasure, a memory come to life. He can feel the release on the tips of his fingers, bringing a grin to his face. 

“That’s my girl.” 

Her silent scream breaks into a desperate cry as her release sprays down his arm. She gasps, falling apart from the inside out. Dean runs his hands up her body as she finally relaxes, the human version of a spring that’s been wound until it snaps. She collapses back down on the bed, her legs extending to either side as her muscles relax. Her chest heaves as she pulls in desperate gasps of air, aftershocks of pleasure still vibrating through trembling extremities. 

Dean smiles softly at her, pressing a soft kiss to her thigh before standing. His cock aches, his erection pressing uncomfortably against his jeans that seem two sizes tighter than this morning. He backs away as Castiel sheds his trenchcoat and settles on the bed, pulling Leia to his chest and murmuring praise between kisses. Dean watches as he feels jealousy blanket his shoulders. It’s her soft begging that finally gets his feet moving again, though his eyes and ears stay fixed on the couple in the bed, his heart aching for it’s happy ending. Sorry buddy, you’re going to have to settle for another long shower.

“Dean.” Her voice reaches him as his hand settles on the door handle, a tangible echo, just as sweet as it was when she was his. “I need you too.” He stops and turns, his heart rate skyrocketing, his cock twitching excitedly. “Please.” She’s always begged more with her eyes than her words, and Dean sees that old flame brought back to life, an ember fanned to raging inferno.

Every fiber of his being is singing all the praises Heaven doesn’t deserve, but still he hesitates.

“It’s okay, Dean.” Blue eyes ground him, just as safe and steady in the bedroom as they are on the battlefield. 

Dean turns from the door, his hands already working at the button of his jeans as he floats back toward the bed. Their clothes are gone before his jeans make it over his hips, and he decides that maybe grace has more advantages than those that are tactile. He pauses at the foot of the bed, the logistics overwhelming his lust addled brain. Shower sex isn’t the only thing that’s complicated. Hell is still just hell, though.

“What do you want, Princess?” Castiel murmurs low into Leia’s ear, and Dean is close enough to see the bumps rise on her skin.

“Deep.” Her tongue stumbles over the single word, her endorphin overloaded brain struggling to process anything more than action and touch.

“I need you to ask for it.” Castiel rolls, throwing one of her limp legs over his hip, dipping two fingers into her cunt and making her eyes fly skyward. “Or you’re not going to get what you want.”

Dean’s cock twitches against his abdomen, and he slowly strokes himself as he watches Castiel’s fingers move, listens to the wet that he caused, feels his body heat under the angel’s sharp gaze. 

They seem to spend an eternity in that moment, washed in lust, excitement, and anticipation. Everything is tense, but Dean feels lighter than he has in years as he allows himself to stop thinking and simply wait to be given a command.

“I want Dean to fuck my ass,” Leia finally manages to gasp out as Cas continues to tease her. “While I ride your cock.” 

Castiel pulls his hand out and settles her slowly onto him. Leia gasps, her hands gripping his shoulders as he guides her hips down, inch by agonizing inch, Dean’s mouth falling open and a grin crawling across Cas’ face as they both watch. Cas maneuvers them until they’re at the end of the bed, his legs hanging over the end and her knees propped on the edge. Dean runs his hand down her back, along the curve of her spine, her skin soft and smooth beneath his time roughened palm. He cups her ass, firm from decades of hunting, and his thumb rubs over a wayward freckle. He spreads it, his tongue darting out to wet his lip as he takes in the view before him, savoring it. 

“Dean.” Castiel’s voice breaks through his trance, and when he finds that sharp gaze, Castiel is holding out a bottle of lube.

Dean nods as he accepts it, his tongue too heavy in his mouth to form words. He lubes his fingers, teasing her hole before pushing one in. He would gladly go to hell again to hear the moan that left her lips as she pushed back onto his hand. He slowly works her open with one hand as he strokes himself with the other, his bottom lip pinched between his teeth.

“Dean, please I need you,” Leia whines, her forehead settled on Castiel’s shoulder as the angel busies himself kissing and nipping her neck, teeth grazing one of her favorite spots.

“Okay, darling. I’ve got you.” He preps, takes a deep breath, and pushes forward.

It feels like coming home. Dean gasps and he’s surrounded by tight heat, his hands digging into her hips, his legs settling against the bed, sandwiched between hers and Cas’s. Dean, a corner of his mind once worried about the possible awkwardness of sharing his past love with her present one, the small rational part of his brain speeding through the consequences of fucking his best friend’s girl while he’s in the room, is suddenly certain that if he moves, he will cum instantly, something he hasn’t done since he was 17.

Dean tries to think of a witty comment, the sudden vulnerability of the situation overwhelming him, the need for a protective wall of humor urgent, even though he knows it will destroy this precious moment. His mouth opens, his tongue threatening to sabotage this perfection, but instead of words Dean moans incoherently as Castiel grabs his hips and forces him to move in sync with his own thrusts.

Dean decides that it’s okay to turn his brain off. He stops thinking, and instead he starts feeling. He reaches a hand around to rub at Leia’s clit, tightens his hold on her hip as she falls limp, her body unable to hold itself up between them. Tears are rolling slowly down her cheeks, drool slipping out of the corner of her mouth as her eyes unfocus and she succumbs to the intense pleasure. 

“Such a good girl.” Cas’ voice is deeper than Dean imagined would be possible, rough and breathless as he throws his head back. “More, Dean. Harder.” Cas guides Dean’s movements, pulling his hips in. Dean plants his feet, adjusting the angle of his thrusts, giving himself leverage for more powerful thrusts, pulling a deep moan from Cas’ lips. “Yes, Dean, good.”

Dean’s balls tighten at the praise, his thighs begin to burn as his pace quickens, desperation driving him. He feels Leia cum again, hears her hiss at the end of a silent scream, but it seems far away. His only focus is chasing the high, getting relief from the pressure that’s settled on his groin, because right now everything is tightening, every muscle is tensing. Dean grasps both of her hips in his hands, his knuckles turning white as his pace begins to falter. He hears Castiel call out, feels the hands on his own hips tense and relax, and finally he’s breaking.

Time is meaningless. He falls onto the bed, years of tension seeped from his body. He feels like he’s floating, relaxed and happy, a constant pain numbed in a way that whiskey cannot help. Castiel cleans up Leia with a snap, and she wakes enough to cuddle against Dean, nuzzling her way beneath his arm just like she always has. Castiel lays behind her, bringing with him a sense of safety Dean craves. 

------

Dean is staring at the gun in his hands, but he hasn’t moved to clean it. He glances at the clock, surprised to find that he’s been unfocused for fifteen minutes. He’s not been able to make it through a quarter of his list, but he can’t bring himself to count the day as wasted as he normally would. He’s been trapped in his mind today, bouncing between nostalgia and present, doing his best to not linger on the new, overwhelming amount of ‘what-if’s and ‘what does it mean’s buzzing around his mind. 

He finds himself falling into another spiral, wondering if this was a one time romp, or if he’s not the only one with unrequited feelings. If Leia still has feelings, what does that mean for Cas? They make each other better, they need each other, and Dean does not have enough room in his mental guilt chest to add that.

A small knock at his door makes him jump, and he clears his throat and busies his hands before telling them to come in.

“Dean?” Leia’s voice is tentative, her eyes troubled. She settles herself on his bed, and Dean forces himself to stay where he is at his desk. His heart is racing nearly as fast as his mind, anxiety restricting his lungs and drying his mouth. “Can we talk?” There it was. The death sentence.

“Of course.” Dean zeroed in on the gun in his hands, focused on the familiar movements.

“I talked with Cas about what happened this morning. It...” She paused, biting her lip as she struggled with what to say next. A hundred scenarios began playing through Dean’s mind, each one worse than the previous. 

It was a one-time thing. It was a mistake. It was something I regret. It was the final straw, I can’t do this anymore, we’re leaving.

“It stirred up some emotions that I buried a long time ago. I hope that I don’t offend you by saying this, or that this makes you uncomfortable.” She took a deep breath, and Dean began to oil the pieces of his gun, glad to have something to do with his hands so that she couldn’t see them tremble as he waited patiently for her to continue, every muscle tensed and prepared for life’s usual kick to his metaphorical (and sometimes physical) balls.

“I still love you, Dean. I’ve talked it out with Cas. If you’re interested, I’d like to … make sure this isn’t a one time thing. Cas is okay with this. He understands that each of you are important to me, and each of you fulfill different areas of my life. I want you both.”

Dean’s hands stop moving. He distantly hears the piece of gun clatter to the floor. Every thought screeches to a halt as he looks up, searching her face for any hint of a lie or a prank. Instead, he finds raw vulnerability, one he had chased away long ago. The walls he had watched her build between them over the years, even the bricks he had had purposefully caused her to lay, were now mere crumbles of brick and mortar. 

A smile begins to slowly spread across Dean’s face.

Taglist:

@impala-dreamer​ @adoptdontshoppets​ @supernatural-idjit-95​ @team-free-will-you-idjits-67​ @missjenniferb​ @tumbler-tidbits​ @maddiepants​ @crashdevlin​ @thoughtslikeaminefield​ @there-must-be-a-lock​ @cracksinthewalls​ @stunudo​ @mskathywriteswords​ @rockhoochie​ @itmighthavebeenintentional​ @wanderingcas​ 

[ambthecreative]

DESTIEL RANT! Unpopular Opinion Time - The Scene was NOT Homophobic

Wow. It’s BEEN YEARS! And yet here I am again! I have returned to my Tumblr roots, rambling about Supernatural again! I have come full circle! Summoned by three words spoken by the Angel of the Lord we all knew and loved. But lets get down to business.  Everyone’s going crazy. They either loved it, hated it, loved/hated it, hated/loved it, etc.  Even people who never watched an episode felt the need to add their two cents without any context or with extreme bias.  So here’s the observations from a former Supernatural Fan and intense DESTIEL SHIPPER, but also one who has stopped watching it cause omfg it sucks so bad now. My bias comes from both angles and thus neutralizes each other out xD Obviously, spoilers for Episode 18 of Season 15 of Supernatural lay ahead.  ~~~

(TL;DR: The scene wasn’t bad because it was forced or homophobic. It was neither.  The scene was bad because of long term poor plotting, repetitive character arcs and horrendous timing and execution. That said, my shipping heart is just happy that it happened at all. <3 ) ONWARDS! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lets just get to the point. At first glance, that scene looks extremely homophobic and when it was first described to me (I haven’t watched the show since Season 9), it appears that is indeed the case.  And you can make a STRONG case for it to, if you watched that scene and knew of all the fucking queer bait we had to live through before getting here.  But I watched the entire episode. And I think this is key.  Cause while it’s easy to say its all homophobic, that’s not actually what was happening.  The truth is, the episode is a set up for the ending.  Sure it seems to be framed that Castiel is sent to the Empty for being gay, but that’s the bias talking.  Contextually, Castiel is sent to the Empty for being Truly Happy.  Also EVERYONE dies.  Funny how no one is up in arms that Charlie’s GF got poofed at the very start of the episode.  Not gay enough for it to count? Like she literally made her girlfriend breakfast and they were flirting, and boom she was gone FOREVER, not sent to a place where people have come back from before, but with NO EVIDENCE of them being alive at all.  Dead. Gone.  But no one says a damn thing.  And then EVERYONE died.  THEN Cas died.  And yet everyone got like temporary amnesia and its like, “CASTIEL WAS KILLED FOR BEING GAY!!!” That’s...not what happened tho.  What’s really sad is the moment with Castiel was actually a GREAT plot point/twist, if only they had done it better.  NO ONE would be saying SHIT if Castiel had been a woman. NO ONE.  Or at least, they would mostly see it as tragic than anything else.  But because Castiel is making a homosexual love confession, it must BE because he’s GAY! It’s really ironic.  Judging that scene as homophobic is ACTUALLY homophobic* (not really, but i can’t think of a better word).  Or at least you’re judging the scene by their sexuality and not by what is actually going on.  Now I remembered something after thinking about this scene for a while.  THIS PLOT POINT HAS HAPPENED BEFORE IN ANOTHER EVEN MORE ICONIC SHOW!!! Now bear with me cause I never watched the whole thing, only the bits and pieces my roommate shared with me.  But the whole “I am cursed to suffer a terrible fate if I ever experience true happiness” has been done before.  And where was that?

Spoilers for Buffy by the way.  SO! To all those who are still trying to spin this as platonic, you need to watch more shitty afterschool 90s supernatural TV shows.  In season 2 of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel, Buffy’s good vampire boyfriend, wakes up evil because he had a moment of true happiness.  And this dooms the couple.  NOW. Do you call this...heterophobia???? Oh I hear you! “But Angel didn’t die and he and Buffy got to be romantic and actually have sex before that shit went down! Not the same thing!” TRUE. I didn’t really bring this up to make an argument that the scene/show isn’t homophobic (or at least they are very uncomfortable with it), but rather I wanted to make a point that the PLOT POINT is not at all homophobic and is actually really awesome.  The issue with the scene is the execution.  That moment between Cas and Dean should have happened SEASONS ago or at the VERY LEAST earlier in this FINAL season, and not right at the very end. The other reason why it worked so well with Buffy is that they had plenty of episodes afterwards to go into it, have Buffy react to it, and deal with it and such.  Meanwhile SPN, still BLATANTLY uncomfortable with handling this sort of thing, decided to put Castiel away in a dark closet and then put forth an end the world plotline by killing EVERYONE so Dean is too busy to actually think and talk about it for any real length of time XD.  I wouldn’t use the word homophobic for it, because it wasn’t used as a joke, it wasn’t used to demean gay people, it wasn’t meant to say “if you are homosexual, you go to hell.”

That’s not it at all. The only reason people think that is because they’ve been hurt in the past so many times, by religion and government and truly homophobic media,  and this scene triggers that hurt.  HOWEVER, if you look at that scene without that lens, it’s more cowardly and insecure, than homophobic.  Cause at the end of the day, that’s the whole problem with Supernatural.  They never commit.  Their writing is lazy and weak because they don’t have the writing chops to actually GO FOR IT. 

They are constantly at war with the writing, the ratings/money, and the general public views.  They constantly add poc and homosexual characters, but are too afraid to actually do anything with them in fear of doing it poorly and upsetting people (and honestly, it’s a valid fear XD).  I stopped watching Supernatural cause the writing is HORRIBLE.  It has nothing to do with homophobia and everything to do with the fact its all over the place, there’s no stakes, the power escalation is shot to hell, they keep saying SIKE when they do kill people, no changes last forever, and it should have ended SEASONS ago.  Its BAD. But in regards to homosexuality, the fact that they used a plot point that the legendary Buffy the Vampire Slayer used but used it on two characters of the same sex is actually AMAZING.  YES it was CRINGY. The handprint was cringy! They were trying WAY too hard to make it different than the other 1000000 times Castiel died for Dean. But it was their poor plotting, their overuse of killing and bringing back people, the fact Dean and Cas never actually even toyed with the idea of romance openly in the entire show, that caused this scene to not shine as brightly as it could have. 

THAT SAID.

HOLY SHIT CASTIEL LOVES DEAN! THATS AMAZING!!!! Ahem. Another reason why people get this scene so wrong is because they think writers are actual Gods.  We are not.  They are flawed and they are many and this show had WAY too many showrunners.  AND IT SHOWS.  But you know whos constant? The actors.  Dean has never really changed. Jensen played him exactly as he’s  always played him. ALWAYS.  Any person who got mad that Dean didn’t sob or kiss Castiel needs to take off their gay fucking glasses and respect the fact that THAT ISN’T DEAN.  HE’S NEVER BEEN THAT WAY.  EVEN IF CASTIEL WAS A WOMAN HE WOULDNT HAVE ACTED THAT WAY. 

Also Dean has been so BLATANTLY straight this WHOLE time.  Now I’m not saying that the romantic feelings were not reciprocal.  I’m saying we don’t fucking know XD Hell DEAN might not know, and honestly that would be the most realistic and best way to handle that.  Do you know how FUCKED UP it would have been if Dean broke character and suddenly came out as Gay and totally fine with that and just acted like he’s been gay this WHOLE time even when it’s so obvious that he was not?!! Its like - Respect Homosexuality, but Disrespect all other sexualities.  You can’t just force Dean to be Gay and Comfortable With That Fact (tm). 

You can’t.  And to expect and force Jensen Ackles to play his character, that he’s played for years that way, to tell him to fuck off how he’s BEEN playing him cause it’s not good enough anymore even though everyone ATE IT UP before Castiel came on screen,�� is an INSULT to him.  I do think he can realize it. I think he can lean into it. I really do think it’s possible to do it in a way that’s realistic and still in character with how Jensen has played him all these years.  But now, you’re all fucking entitled little nutcases if you think that Dean should bend to your fanfic fantasy as being head over heels in love with a man without any issue at all when there’s absolutely nothing in his backstory, childhood, or ANYTHING that would explain why he would be that way.  I’m old as fuck, but you know how Dean SHOULD play it? Like Heath Ledger’s character in Brokeback Mountain.  He didn’t exactly showed his emotions regarding the love of his fucking life immediately, now did he?  BUT THAT SAID THIS ISNT BROKEBACK MOUNTAIN YOU HORNY FUCKS XDD Ahem. That’s also a reminder for myself XD ANYWAYS!!!

TL;DR: The scene wasn’t bad because it was forced or homophobic.

It was neither. 

The scene was bad because of long term poor plotting, repetitive character arcs and horrendous timing and execution. 

That said, my shipping heart is just happy that it happened at all. <3   The End.  That is all

[elizabethrobertajones]

“I can’t believe Dean and Cas made out.”

Cas shrunk back from walking into the library at the sound of Sam ’s voice – for very good reasons.

He heard the unconvinced noise Mary made as she shrugged before replying. “It broke the spell and saved the town – it’s not hard to believe they’d do it… For the greater good.”

Sam still sounded agitated although Cas agreed with Mary – and he should know better than them about it. “No, Mom, we were all in the room. All the ritual asked for was a kiss… I mean what if all we needed to do was something like me giving you a peck on the cheek? It was a vaguely phrased spell.”

“I suppose so…”

Sam had gone into full ranting mode – “And – even if it had to be a kiss on the mouth – Cas could have kissed any of us. There were options. He could have kissed you, or, well, he was standing right next to me when Dean read the thing out, and a lot of people were going to die really soon. I’d take one for the team.”

“Are you going somewhere with this?” Mary sounded far more amused than Cas had expected. He supposed the kiss might have broken the ice – with time it had become something they could laugh about, at least when he and Dean weren’t in the room; they had a little more reason to be haunted by it.

Sam, though, seemed to be giving Cas a run for his money on that front. “Just – if I was gonna kiss Cas to save a ton of people and break a spell – in front of my entire family – I think I’d be fine with smushing our lips together and checking out the corner of my eye to see if the glowing orb on the altar had turned off again… Maybe chance some tongue if it hadn’t…”

“You have given this a lot of thought.”

Cas smiled to himself at Mary’s teasing tone. He did agree with Sam that if they had to kiss for the greater good, it wouldn’t be so terrible… If, of course, not for…

“I’m sorry, but it’s driving me crazy.”

“That they kissed?”

“No… But I mean, I still need brain bleach after what I saw. I’m working through the trauma. They were knocking books off the altar. Cas had his knee on it. Dean had fistfuls of trenchcoat. I know you were kind of concussed at the time, but do you remember how many times I had to clear my throat and tell them it was over and they could stop making out? I’ve suffered.”

There was an awkward pause, or at least, to Cas, as he spent it fighting a surprise blush, the heat of that moment returning to him fiercely, though he’d tried to put it out of his mind. Then Mary cleared her throat.

“Are they –?”

“No. And that’s what’s killing me. You don’t know how long I’ve been dealing with their UST.”

Cas rolled his eyes at that, just on the principle of if they had been able to see him.

“Trust me,” Sam continued, “Our lives would all have run a lot smoother if they’d got their crap together immediately. And, also, they have the collective emotional intuitiveness of a tank of goldfish. They’d never be able to hide it long if they had… They just… Make so much drama all the time. I have a feeling we’d find out some way or another.”

Mary made an odd snorting noise trying to contain laughter aimed at her own child, while Cas bristled at the totally unfounded accusations.

“I think they’ll be okay,” she said. “Perhaps they’ll work it out in their own time.”

“Mom, no. It’s been three months since they made out, and they haven’t talked about it. I can tell.”

“How?”

“How? They make just being in a room with them unbearable, ever since, with all the side-glances and sighing. I mean it – I can’t believe they made out because it didn’t fix anything. We’re living in a world where Cas shoved Dean against the nearest piece of furniture and kissed him so hard he could barely stand after, and nothing happened. We had that one long awkward drive back – and thanks for sleeping through it and leaving me to enjoy that pained small talk – then the next day it’s all back to normal like it never happened. Except for Cas’s sighing and Dean’s stammering, and how they always keep getting coffee to bring to the other so they’re carrying mugs all over the Bunker and not bringing them back to the kitchen…”

Cas glanced guiltily down at the mugs of now cold coffee in his hands.

“And you’re sure they’re not… Together?” Mary sounded nervous of even voicing the concept, but at least not openly disapproving. Small mercies.

“I know Dean, when he has a secret. He gets really weird about everything. I could accuse him of using up the milk and putting the empty bottle back in the fridge and he’d take the moral high ground asking, well what about your secret angel boyfriend or something. And Cas… I think he’d look happier.”

That brought a longer and more contemplative pause from Mary. “Is there anything we can do?” she asked.

He had heard enough – or didn’t want to hear what they’d plan for him and Dean. Cas slipped away back to the kitchen to wash up the mugs and get fresh coffee.

*

Cas wished he wasn’t giving Sam the satisfaction, but another two weeks passed while he mulled over what he had heard. In a way, implausible though it felt, he’d almost stopped thinking about the kiss of death spell, and how they had broken it. It was the change between Dean and himself that was more troubling…

Sam was also right that they hadn’t talked about it. That long car ride after, he had wondered for hours how this would change things between Dean and himself. The answer was not a lot, really. He wasn’t asked to leave, or invited into Dean’s bedroom, or any extreme reaction Cas could have expected. Of course he had healed Mary’s concussion as soon as the danger had been over, but the next day after getting home, when it seemed like old news, Dean had immediately found another case as his morning greeting, along with a suggestion Mary stay back to rest up and Cas to look after her.

They’d watched daytime TV and Mary hadn’t commented on how absorbed in the kiss Cas had been. Cas wondered long and hard if he should ask her for advice, but even he knew that was a strange and uncomfortable position to put her in. So things went unsaid, and Dean kept finding reasons to drag Sam or Mary off on quick and easy salt and burns, or send one of them with Cas, and so he grew more and more certain that Dean was avoiding him.

Things were easier after the first month, and Dean stayed home a few more days at a time, as well as working with Cas again though with a buffer of Sam or Mary with them… It seemed like Dean had forgotten after the second month, and finally started hanging around Cas more and having fun like they used to. There was an uneasy tension still, an uncertainty in the way he spoke to him. A nervous buzz between them if they were left alone unexpectedly.

Cas didn’t like the change, but he hadn’t known what to do about it until he heard the disbelief in Sam’s voice as he said, “I can’t believe Dean and Cas made out.”

It took all of those two weeks, though.

*

Finally, Cas found the Bunker mostly deserted, Dean at the map table, reading, and Cas himself bringing coffee.

“Oh, hey Cas,” Dean said, as if genuinely surprised to see him. Alarmed, perhaps. That edge of nervousness to everything between them was already present.

Cas put the coffees down and watched Dean smile gratefully. It was late for humans with normal circadian rhythms. Dean seemed far from turning in, reading something from one of the big Men of Letters tomes of lore with no real urgency, as they were between cases and drastic end of the world problems.

“Uh,” Dean said after a moment, risking a glance up at Cas. “You planning on lurking there all night?”

Cas continued standing still but more intentionally. When Dean was shifting uncomfortably from the suspense, Cas finally broke the silence. “I wanted to talk to you.”

“Who died?” Dean said, sarcastically, so Cas assumed his tone of voice was being mocked, not that Dean was waiting for bad news.

“No one – I… I was thinking about the kiss.”

Dean’s eyes flickered wide with surprise – perhaps a fraction of a second of a fond smile, before his bashfulness disappeared into the more familiar guarded expression that Cas had been expecting.

“Well… Yeah, same, but do you see me running around chatting about it with everyone?” Dean had shrunk back down, and Cas felt almost guilty to unsettle him like that. Almost. This was getting ridiculous.

“I wanted to talk because it’s frustrating. Do you really want to live the rest of your life pretending that it didn’t happen?”

Dean looked away, picked up his coffee and put it down again immediately. “I just… Wanted to wait for a better time to, you know…” He gestured vaguely at Cas, who scowled harder at him. Dean huffed out a sigh in defeat. “To recreate the exact make out session but without Mom and Sam there.”

“They’re not here now.”

Dean looked around, at the doors, into the library, up at the balcony. Cas felt reasonably sure he could sense both in their rooms, asleep or at least sequestered away at the end of the day.

“No, I guess not,” Dean agreed. He looked caught out, but less and less reluctant in the face of Cas obstinately standing there waiting for a response he wanted – and that he knew from Dean’s passionate response last time, he wanted too.

Dean pushed back his chair and stood, an action that had him abruptly swaying into Cas’s space. “Can’t believe I’m going to make out with you,” he muttered, as Cas reached out to place a hand on Dean’s cheek, as cautiously as he’d done that day at the site of the spell.

Dean had made the next move, leaning forward to seal their lips together, so Cas waited, as Dean leaned into his touch, eyes dropping closed. Instead of making a move, he let out a soft breath, as if letting go of the last of his resistance, and allowing himself to enjoy the touch and the closeness. It was much slower, more gentle than that urgent rush to save the town, a ticking time bomb waiting for their lips to meet. Dean had grabbed Cas by the tie, tugged him closer with the same fierceness he fought with, and kissed him with a certainty that it was what needed to be done…

Not that making out with Cas could have been an unwanted side effect of saving everyone, but now, when they had time, Dean reached for him like he was a mirage in the desert that would disappear when his hands passed through the seemingly real image in front of him. Dean ended up holding the lapels of Cas’s coat, gathering them into tight fists and clutching the fabric apparently just to hold it for a long time before he gave in and pulled.

Cas let Dean fall into him, lips meeting lips, gentle and pressing a dozen small kisses to test the waters, stopping to marvel at each other that they’d broken such a long and fraught silence – not just between the Kiss of Death spell and now, but all the time they’d spent avoiding mentioning whatever it was between them before that. Dean’s eyes were full of awe, and Cas didn’t even stop to remember the original kisses, to replicate how he pulled Dean closer, now securing him against him with a hand in his hair, holding it tight enough that Dean wouldn’t move away even if he wanted to.

The glowing orb on the altar had already lost its shine and sunk harmlessly back onto the table at this point, the threat clearly over, but Dean had suddenly lost all inhibitions, like the kiss had wiped from his mind any thoughts that weren’t about the next kiss… Going from powerful kisses to indulgent, hungry… His mouth hot as he pushed his tongue deep into Cas’s mouth, drew back to tease Cas’s lower lip between his teeth before he let go and grinned up at Cas. Dean had years of kissing experience, knowing just how to wind up his partner and leave them desperate for the next kiss, but then as now, Cas wasn’t going to let Dean run away with it – the thought of the spell, the orb, the others in the room, had left him behind too, and he’d wanted to kiss the smirk off Dean’s face…

Now it was a dazed, happy smile, Dean pulling away from Cas to bite his own lip, as if tasting it for confirmation that it had been against Cas’s mouth. Though they were lost in the moment, it was one of calm, and understanding, and Dean looked at Cas like he could barely believe this was happening, not just awe but relief in his eyes. Then he laughed, which hadn’t happened at all at the altar; there had been no time, not with Cas grabbing him by the front of his t-shirt, scrabbling to pull him in with a fist in his hair, so Dean stumbled into him, and with his knees buckling and his hands failing to get purchase on Cas’s coat at his shoulders, they’d stumbled against the altar and –

Dean laughed harder, clutching at Cas’s shoulders, falling forward again to laugh against Cas’s neck, pressing kisses slowly from under his ear to his collarbone – Cas could feel Dean working his tie loose, and was lost in marvelling at Dean’s sudden change to tender and gentle. It broke the script of their previous kiss, left Cas feeling uncertain to do more than slide a hand through Dean’s hair up from the back of his neck, letting Dean’s hair slide between his fingers, a promise he could grip harder, but that he wasn’t yet. Dean shivered at the touch, breath hot against Cas’s neck where he had left wet kisses.

“Cas –”

“Yes?”

“We were really stupid to leave it this long to try again.”

Cas felt Dean’s lips turn to the crook of his neck again, nuzzling against it, then licking curiously, a hand skating up to cup Cas’s neck on the other side so he could push more insistent kisses there… Cas dropped his head back and closed his eyes, reaching blindly for the table beside them as Dean pushed Cas back; he stumbled into it, suddenly realising the roles had reversed from his desperate push back at Dean that had left him leaning back across the altar, pushing books and spell ingredients and candles aside as, lost in the intensity of their first kisses. He remembered the feeling of his coat pulling almost to tear at the seams on the shoulders as Dean grabbed at the back of it – made Cas think that if there were no layers between them Deans hands would have been kneading the bare flesh of his back… He’d pushed against Dean, feeling the hardness between his legs, been rewarded with a groan and Dean trying to hook a leg around Cas, to pull them back onto the altar, and Cas had been desperate to follow…

Back then, Sam clearing his throat had been enough to pull Cas back to reality, to try and disentangle himself from a Dean who was far too addled to put himself back in the scene for a moment, and then so embarrassed he’d gaped around at everyone for a moment and then walked straight out of the room…

That had all flowed too quickly from Cas and Dean instinctively turning to the other when they realised what broke the spell, the sureness and unspoken agreement they wanted to try.

Now, Dean kept stopping to smile dazedly at Cas before leaning in to steal another kiss. He’d worked Cas’s tie loose, but after that changed course to run his hand through Cas’s hair with a determination to mess it up but no… forward momentum. Cas knew he was fairly close to an immovable object if he wanted to be, but he was leaning slackly into Dean’s embrace and he was still barely pushed up against the table after several minutes of exchanging kisses, and the memory of the previous time was haunting him, a moment they had to pass and recreate for themselves in a way that worked out…

It was pleasant though, having Dean leant against him almost like they’d been dancing, murmuring pleased disbelief into Cas’s shoulder – not that he couldn’t believe Cas liked him, but that they’d somehow managed to act on it.

Cas led the way into the next kiss, pushing at Dean gently at first, exploring how much Dean would let him lead, in case it had been a fluke at the altar that Dean had been swept away so completely. The answer was that he shuddered pleasurably at Cas taking hold of his waist and stepping back into Dean’s space with a fierceness to his kisses. Dean melted into it, pressing himself firmly against Cas. Cas pushed back, and in moments he had Dean sitting on the table – his chair knocked over, the sound of a cup smashing on the floor ignored as Cas slid his hands down from Dean’s shoulders, along his back and past his waist, to lift Dean against him. Dean moaned loudly enough for him to freeze and listen.

“It’s okay, it’s just us. This time it’s just us,” Cas murmured, and stole Dean’s lips before he could argue.

Instead he pulled at Cas until he stumbled against Dean and the table, not sure what Dean was doing until Dean pulled him into a controlled fall; Dean scrambled back to let Cas clamber on top of him, books and instruments from the map table falling to the floor. Cas looked down at Dean and found him grinning up at him, flushed and out of breath and reaching for Cas’s shirt buttons.

“You do have a room,” Cas reminded him.

“I know,” Dean said. “You’ve left me hanging with thoughts about tables for months.”

Cas couldn’t argue with that, and leaned down to continue the make out session.

*

Eventually, Cas did lead Dean back to his own bed; morning came and Cas escaped Dean’s sleeping vice grip when the sun was barely up somewhere beyond the protective wall of the Bunker, to tidy up the chaos from the night.

Some things couldn’t be fixed though – an hour or so later Sam stumbled into the kitchen, yawning, and stopped short at the stack of glasses moved next to the coffee machine. He shuffled around to squint at Dean, sitting on the end of the table (Cas absolutely not paying him any attention despite the enticing set up) and Sam’s eyes finally found the whiskey glass Dean was holding that contained a suspiciously coffee-like liquid.

“Where are all the mugs?”

“Yeah, Cas finally smashed the entire set,” Dean said, and took another sip of coffee. Cas, leaning on the kitchen island, averted his eyes as Sam turned to look at him, and then back to Dean.

“Oh my god. I can’t believe you two finally made out.”

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 14

Author’s Note:  I know it has been a little bit since I posted last.  There is a lot of stuff going on in my life right now, so it has been difficult to focus and give this story the attention it deserves.  The lovely Tyche has sent me her next chapter, however, so I have edited that and am posting it tonight.  This chapter is from Tyche’s perspective and is relaying her story.  Any editing errors are solely my own, and please don’t hesitate to inbox me if you notice something.

If you want to, you can skip down to the story below the cut.  I just want to give everyone an idea of what is going on with my life right now.  

For those of you who don’t follow @ritualistic-raven, my mother has quit two jobs this year with no savings, no safety net, nothing to keep her going long term.  The first job was one she had been in for eleven years, and she quit it as soon as her tax return came in (I think it was February? It was the beginning of the year). She lived off her tax return, without even trying to find a new job, until early June.  She found a new job in mid-July, and quit that one in September.  My sister a full time college student, and had not been working while going to school, so this was the only income they had.  There is also my nephew living with them.

My mother still has not found a job, and we are coming up on December. Toward the end of October, they (my mother, my sister, and my nephew) moved into my spare bedroom...  That’s right.  Me, my spouse, my sister, mother, and nephew all living in a just-a-hair-under 1100 sq ft house.  It is making everyone involved more than a lot bit stressed out.

My sister started a good job last week, but it is currently just seasonal (although there is a chance to go permanent after the seasonal gig is over).  I’m not even sure if my mother is still looking for jobs, TBH.  I work 42 hours a week, my spouse works 40-45, and we both have 45 minute commutes one way.  If she doesn’t, I have no idea when they will be able to get their own place - I feel terrible that my sister is sleeping on my couch or an air mattress in my office, and that my nephew has literally nothing to do at my house because my house is not very kid-friendly.  Fairly kid-proof, but not kid friendly.

I spend an inordinate amount of my time angry, depressed, overwhelmed, and exhausted.  I have difficulty sleeping, difficulty focusing on work, and resent my mother so much right now I could scream at her every time she crosses my path.  Add to all of that the fact that she has apparently forgotten how to cook (which she has done, and done well, for a living, on several occaisions?), we just made it through Thanksgiving here in the States, and Christmas holidays are right around the corner.  I’m also preparing for a business trip, trying to train a new person to help do my job, etc.

All that said, I am trying very hard to still write. I know it doesn’t always show on here, but that’s because sometimes I work on a fanfiction I have not even started posting yet, sometimes I am working on my novel-in-progress (which at this point has become something Brian Griffin would be proud of), and sometimes I am working on Destiel and Sabriel Secret Santa stuff.

TL;DR: Thank you for being patient with me, I have A Lot going on right now, and I promise The Miys is not on hiatus.

I stood on a platform in front of a large number of my fellow humans. The lights were dimmed, for the sake of my nerves, but I could still see several of the front rows thanks to the light from the video screens behind me. I felt like a mega-millionaire with a groundbreaking statement.

There was no form of microphone, no podium, not even a glass of water for my comfort. Everyone would still hear me, however, thanks to the Miys linking the translators.

I don’t know how long I stood in silence, trying to shake the nerves I expertly concealed. My feet were planted, my fingers woven in front my hips, shoulders back, and chin up. I appeared to be taking in the crowd. I was used to preparing any presentations. I was used to having a visual to gesture to or explain factually.

Here, I had nothing but my own history.

“Okay, Tyche. Deep breath. You know how to tell an engaging story. You can do this.” I thought to myself.

I rolled my shoulders in preparation and finally spoke.

“Thank you all for joining me. This hall has been reserved for those brave enough to share their stories of what they experienced after the End began. This is why we are here now. Many of you have met already, but for those of you who haven’t, please allow me to introduce myself.

My name is Tyche. I like dark clothes, fluffy cats, coffee, and swearing.”

A few in the audience chuckled.

“I am a very serious person when needed. When I don’t have to be so serious, I am aloof to those who don’t know me and social to those who do. A bit like a cat, I suppose.

“You may be able to hear an odd French accent when I speak. On Earth, I was born in the United States of America but worked very hard to move to Paris. I spent years learning the language before I ever boarded a plane, and my accent shifted a bit towards French from that alone. I spent several years in France, honing my pronunciation in order to better communicate with those whom I worked with. I worked in executive administration for a very large financial institution after bustin’ my ass to get a middle-level administration job working with my sister.

“A few years after I moved to Paris and began buying my flat, I was approached by a smaller company. The pay wasn’t as good and they weren’t globally known, but I had apparently chatted with a family member of the owner one day and my occupation came up. I had been recommended to help keep this company from going under after a fiasco left them with no one to run the accounts.

“I was reluctant to leave my comfortable job until I could at least straighten out this smaller company’s bookkeeping. I’ll be honest, it was a mess.

“I had drafted my letter of resignation a few nights before the Launch. I was preparing to hand it in; I just had to convince myself I would be happier this way. Everyone was buzzing about who would be leaving Earth and if we would ever see them again, so on and so forth. I knew the CEO of my financial institution was leaving, but I didn’t feel bad about it. It was a corporation, after all, run by a board of directors.  Still, I kept my poor sister up late one night as she talked me into doing what would make me happiest, even if it meant leaving the company we both worked for.

“The night came and everyone was watching the synchronized streaming of the Launch. Twelve ships. Twelve launch sites around the globe. Faster than light travel! And, of course, only the rich could afford to go.

“We saw it. We all saw it. Well, most of us. It was declared an international holiday, wasn’t it? So many of us sat around on our devices, streaming this brand-new technology being launched with paying customers, civilians, on board. It was momentous! It was historical!

“But then when the ships launched… Well, they blew up. There just isn’t any other way to describe it. The ships had been sabotaged to explode in the atmosphere at the same moment. The feeds cut right after we saw the start of the explosions and if you were outside or near a window? You probably saw the light race across the sky, rippling the air as it went. Then everything went dark.”

I paused for a moment. I could hear murmurs which I assumed were people telling their neighbors where they were when it happened.

Struggling to continue, I cleared my throat again. My vision was being overwhelmed by the past. My brain had thrown me into a visual flashback. I forced myself to narrate what I was seeing, telling my story as my brain recalled it.

I had taken my wine glass and tablet out to the balcony of my small Parisian flat. I was four levels from the ground and could see the lights of the city from where I lived. Even the Eiffel Tower could be seen here, as it twinkled in the distance. The view was everything I had worked so hard to achieve.

I was overwhelmed at that moment with the feeling I was finally, truly home. Drinking wine on my Parisian balcony at 4am was what I truly wanted. Having a fantastic job on top of that, allowing me to be relatively stress free? Absolute freedom, aside from the sound of my mother snoring in the other bedroom.  Headphones on, I listened with minor interest until the countdown began. I could hear several of my neighbors counting down as if it was the New Year, making me laugh in delight.

« Dix ! Neuf ! Huit ! Sept ! Six ! Cinq ! Quatre ! Trois ! Deux ! Un ! »

The buildings and streets erupted with cheering as the ships set off from their launchpads, ready to embark on a journey like no other. I had mixed feelings about it. Fantastic new technology is amazing, but the richest of the rich being the only civilians? I was thrilled about this new age of space travel and tried to focus on that, pressing the negative feelings to the back of my mind.

I was pondering what discoveries would be made along their journey and how long we would have to wait to find out when suddenly the crowds fell silent. The screen of my tablet was shaky for a moment before the livestream simply ended.

Something was wrong. What was that color? It only last for half a moment before the stream ended, but it looked like…. I had seen this before. It was a fireball. But there was an odd color to it. Orange and red and white, but there was something else.

Before I could put any more thought into it, a light rippled across the sky, warping any clouds in its path. It was like a shockwave of light. It was unreal and worse than that, unknown. I gazed out in the direction it went and saw everything flicker, then go black.

The City of Lights was dark.

It all happened so quickly. I’m placing my glass on my balcony table with my tablet, sitting down a few minutes before launch, and then watching everything go dark. Less than ten minutes.

A few fearful screams could be heard, but we knew sunrise was soon. There was already panic, however, as more and more people shouted to their neighbors and even strangers that their phones and flashlights weren’t working. Cars wouldn’t start, the metro rail wouldn’t move, and we saw no airplanes flash overhead. We waited for emergency vehicles. Police and firefighters. “Where are they?” we kept asking each other. No sirens, no lights, no sign of help.

As the day went on, we realized more and more things wouldn’t work. It didn’t take long for us to reach the conclusion that anything that had been powered by electricity, even batteries, was useless. Looting began around midday, taking advantage of the lack of police vehicles and security systems. It didn’t matter what the store was, it was at risk. Electronics were especially popular, as people assumed the power would be restored at some point.

We marched on the government buildings. We demanded answers! What the hell happened? When will it be fixed? Tell us!

Our officials were as baffled as we were. No one had answers, because the people who would have the answers couldn’t communicate or travel with ease to let the officials know.

“You have to wait. We have to go to our scientists. We have to go to them to find out why,”

Tension rose higher and higher. Insulin pumps had failed in the flash. Pacemakers failed as well, and families were outraged that there was no help. At any moment, people would die.

The horror struck many who had not considered how much we rely on technology to keep us alive.

“What about hospitals!” Many started shouting to no one in particular.

I remember leaving the scene, in a state of shock from the realizations, and returning to my flat. “France riots at the drop of a hat. I’m not French. I don’t want to get caught in the crossfire.” I told my cat as I stuffed a few clothes and some bread and water in a bag. I knew how cliché it was, but I also knew I wanted to pack light. I grabbed my duffel bag to shove more supplies into. Candles, matches, a book, a few knives… “Maybe more food.” A few more bottles of water and a wrapped cut of cheese really weighed it down, but I couldn’t skip nourishment. I was leaving Paris, on foot, not sure how long it would take me to get anywhere in this country. My mother refused to leave. “I’m sixty-four,” she declared like it was some great revelation. “I refuse to let some idiots run me out of my home.”

Technically, the flat was mine, in my name only, but I knew that tone and wasn’t about to try to argue.  She wanted to stay, she could stay.  I was taking Mac and getting the hell out of there. I wrapped in a thick coat and two scarves, put on my good boots, and then clipped the walking harness around the cat before remembering my passport. Just in case.

The click of the door behind me was heartbreaking. Was I ever going to come back? Would life restore itself in a few days? My feeling in my gut said no. It said the flash was catastrophic. It said to not get my hopes up.

“At least there’s still enough Arkansas in me to be able to navigate with the sun and stars,” I told my upset feline companion. He just squawked at me plaintively.

I headed south, toward the country. I’d go south for as long as I could.

I lost count of how many days it had been by the time I reached a small village in smelling-distance of the salty ocean. There had been no power anywhere. I had been able to stop here and there, begging people for a bit of food, just enough to make it another day. Everyone was scared of strangers. That wasn’t the French way, but this new reality made everyone paranoid. We’ve all seen those films.

The last town name I could remember is Millau. I ended up somewhere past that. A kind woman named Sandrine said she saw the flash and had been worried criminals would come.

“I’m too exhausted to hurt anyone who isn’t trying to hurt me,” I told her. I had seen very few people along my trek, but none of them seemed to think the lady with the leashed cat was worth bothering.

Sandrine offered me shelter and food from the gardens that were popular there. Aside from the candles and oil lanterns everywhere, it was hard to imagine that life here ever had electricity. It was peaceful and still very organized. The adults would speak in hushed voices. Theorizing what had happened, but no one could agree on one answer.

I stayed there for several months, never finding out what the source of the seemingly-permanent blackout was. Things were going well. This small village was rustic enough to function with little issue the entire time I was there.

Suddenly, it all came to an end. We had seen smoke off in the distance for a few days, but when we woke one morning, it was to the sound of screaming and panicking. The fire had spread overnight thanks to rough winds. It was engulfing the village.

I never want to see that again. So many people couldn’t escape. Many had been asleep when the fire took them. The sight of it was too horrific. Sandrine told me to take one of her horses and go. She would be close behind. Since I never unpacked all of my things, I grabbed my bags and rushed toward the horse pen. I was shaking as I dressed one of the horses, but managed to get everything cinched up. I ran for another saddle and bit when her house collapsed. A tree nearby, weakened by drought, had caught fire and fallen. Sandrine was inside.

I hate feeling helpless. I fought so much in my lifetime to that point so that I would be stronger, more capable, but in that moment, I knew I was helpless against a burning home. And I was terrified beyond screaming. In panicked silence, I mounted the horse and took off to the east.

This repeated for years. Find some people to huddle down with, something would destroy our home, we’d all take off in different directions for safety. Lather, rinse, repeat. The longer it went on, the more hopeless we felt. Many gave up. Many stopped caring. Many begged “why,” even though we had no way of truly knowing what caused all of this.

Sure, we saw the ships explode, very briefly, before everything went down. Around many fires we would discuss what this meant on the global scale. Nuclear reactors, medical necessities, agriculture… How long could we keep going, when everything we knew before was so tech-heavy?

After a handful of years, I quit trying to make allies. I was tired of seeing them die. I went off on my own to try to live like a hermit. I wanted isolation. I knew I could find it if I went back to one of the destroyed villages in the mountains. I knew I could stay there for a while, since I had learned how to scavenge for food and make minimal supplies last.

What I didn’t know is that I would get too comfortable in my solitude. I didn’t know that when approached by some fool stronger than myself, I would panic. He was bigger than I am, and the look in his eyes was one of true insanity. He rushed at me. All I could do was try to lose him in the woods I spent years casually learning, leaping over fallen trees and ducking under low-hung branches. This man…this man somehow kept up with me. He cornered me at a cliff, one that looked as if it overhung a flooded quarry.

I’m small. I’m perceived to be female. And I was alone with this terrifying man who’s lost his mind. I was not going to risk finding out what he wanted. Maybe to kill and eat me. Maybe worse. I wasn’t going to find out.

So, I flung myself, arms spread like wings, over the edge of the cliff, expecting death.

Instead, I woke up on this ship. I woke up with a few injuries from the chase, severe malnutrition, and a ringing in my ears.

Simon was there, and though we got off to a very rough start, he helped me by explaining the Ark and the Miys. He did have to sedate me a couple times, as violent as I was trying to be. He helped me get settled onto the ship and understand what the Miys were here. Simon was the first human I met here. And while he is, erm, awkward, I will say it was nice to see someone who hadn’t been through what we had.

A few people clapped, sensing that I had wrapped up my story. I snapped back into reality and wondered how long I had monologued, a bit embarrassed. I took another deep breath. Time to truly wrap myself up.

“Thank you for being here and being patient enough to listen to me go on. I hadn’t put much thought into how much I would share, to be honest. We all went through a lot. That’s why we share. Through our experiences, we can feel more comfortable with those around us. Hopefully, sharing my story will help show that I am an entire person, not just someone who tells you where to go and what to do. Again, thank you.” I found my way off the stage area as I tried not to cry. There were reasons I put this off for so long, and my caretaker was about to find out first hand what I am like when I break down. I needed to find him.

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[itsfunnierin-enochian]

Not The One

Characters: Rob Benedict x Reader; Rob Benedict x Joanne (OFC); Julie (OFC).

Written By: @gettingbywithalittlehelp96 & @itsfunnierin-enochian

Summary: What would you do if you fell in love with your best friend's boyfriend? What happens if you find out that you and him were meant to be together in the first place?

A/N: The story is loosely based on the Friends episode “The One With Joey's New Girlfriend” and that storyline, which we love!!!!! We hope you like it!

Chapter 1

Dating was the hardest thing for you. Not only because you were shy and awkward but because you didn't consider yourself to be very attractive to other people's eyes.

The opposite could be said about your very sexy, flirty and gorgeous roommate. She was with a new guy every week, if not every two days. It was very frustrating to witness, and for as long as you had lived together it had always been that way. She was the hot one, you were the sweet, funny one but you were best of friends, so little ol you had to show interest in her love life. After all that’s a best friends job and you know she would do the same for you if you ever dated.

She even used to teach you how to be more open to guys, that way it would be easier to like you, but it was something you just couldn't do. You couldn't help it, as soon as you said something to someone it was just a matter of time until you make the situation embarrassing. So you stopped trying for a while.

You lived in LA and the routine was always the same. After work you would meet your friends and go for a coffee at a nearby coffee house and then after work return home to spend some quality time with your best friend, when she wasn't busy with a new guy that is. She was an amazing friend, she just couldn’t stand commitment, but that wasn't your business.

One afternoon, you were at the coffee house waiting for your friends to arrive,  when you spotted a guy that really caught your attention. Of course the fact that you were bad at it didn't mean you couldn't at least look, but your whole mind changed when he smiled at you from the counter where he was standing and ordering his coffee. At first you doubted that smile was for you since he turned and kept talking to the barista, but as you looked around, you noticed there was no one behind or near you.

After that thought was implanted on your brain. Then you started having an internal argument about whether you should go up to him or not. Introducing yourself wouldn't end that bad. Nothing could go wrong, right? That was it, that was your queue. Well, that and your empty cup of coffee. Walking over to the counter, you kept going everything in your head. Rehearsing what you were going to say and how you were going to say it to the very attractive man. God how you hoped you wouldn’t be awkward.

The first thing you noticed were his dreamy blue eyes, that even in the distance and hidden behind darked framed glasses, looked to be as bright as the sun. Then there was his beard. You never used to like guys with beards but for some reason the beard looked very sexy on him. Maybe it was because of that noticeable white patch he had on the right side of his cheek. Then there was his hair. Curly and a bit disheveled, with shades of grey between the brown locks that you thought was also a surprising turn on.

You were subconsciously talking yourself out of it, but still kept getting closer anyway, so by the time you got to the counter, it was already too late.

“Can I have a refill of your dark roast with cinnamon and some vanilla creamer?” you asked the lady behind the counter.

“Hey, I like it like that too!" the stranger exclaimed beaming. “It looks like we have something in common.”

There, it had become awkward. He was sitting there staring at you and you had no idea what to say.

“I...uhm…”

“I'm joking,” he interrupted noticing how you were having a hard time answering.

He had no Idea how much you wanted to say something that didn't make you sound like an idiot.

“Oh, s- so we … don't have things in common? That's too bad” you said thinking that you could save the conversation.

“Oh no, it's my favorite coffee but I didn't want to freak you out,” he chuckled before taking a drink from his coffee.

“Well…” suddenly you felt a rush. Something inside you had given you enough confidence. “Let's hope we have more things in common, than just liking the same coffee.”

As he looked down, his lips curled into a smile as he started to blush and you couldn’t help but smile too.

“I'm Y/N.”

Reaching out your hand he took it and started to shake.

“I'm Rob, nice to meet you and I really would love to talk about all the stuff that are in common between you and I, but I kind of have a date,” he stated softly with a frown as he looked at the clock.

“Oh,” you replied with a smile. “It's okay, I wasn't going to invite you to have a coffee with me anyway.”

“Were you? Dammit! I wouldn’t’ve said anything if I knew I was getting a free coffee.”

Giggling in response, you felt an arm wrap around your waist. Surprised you turned around to find your friend and roommate Joanne.

“Hey, I see you met my best friend.” you were a bit confused by what she said because it seemed like she was introducing you to someone. Then she walked over, kissing Rob on the lips, before continuing. “Told you she is adorable.”

Rob smiled and nodded, looking at you but the way you felt in that moment, you didn’t even know how to describe it. You had finally got the nerve to take the chance on a guy and he was dating your best friend.

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[kintailscape]

Awesome Con 2017- Day 3

Sunday, Day 3: I got up a few minutes earlier and had no problem getting to the Convention Center by Metro. The headache I had was another story, but it wasn’t too bad. I got in line for Stan Lee by 9am and immediately made friends with the guy behind me in line who happened to be Ace as well. We had some wonderful discussions It made the hour and change just fly right by. As the lines started winding around toward the main stage, I ran across another friend of mine.

Even though I could have had a pretty good seat, I sat at the back so I could slip out a little early if needed in order to get in line for Garrett Wang’s Q&A. I even considered skipping Stan Lee, but I’m glad I didn’t. Stan Lee can never die, but he’s definitely getting older, and I didn’t want to miss a chance to see him in person. But Garrett Wang portrayed my favorite character on Star Trek: Voyager. Decisions, decisions! My new line friend advised me to skip out as soon as the Q&A started.

10:30 AM-11:15 AM Stan Lee Q&A Stan Lee arrived a little late (which meant more watching the Main Stage screen; OMG I need to see Baby Driver right now!) and went straight into Q&A right away. So I definitely didn’t leave immediately. It was great seeing the Father of Marvel in person on Father’s Day. He was exactly the way he is in all the specials and TV interviews I’ve seen him in. And his love for Marvel’s characters and stories was obvious and overwhelming. He talked about his cameo in Thor being his favorite because he got to do two scenes. He wasn’t sure the fans would love the Hulk or Spider-man as much as he did. He named characters alliteratively because his memory wasn’t so good and wanted to be sure to remember their names. In regards to where the X-Men movies will go he “want[s] it to teach people we’re all the same.” And in regards to his hearing aid problems “I hate not hearing myself when I talk, because I hate missing gems of wisdom.” Speaking of which, he said “We’ve all got to be good guys.”

I left a little before 11:15, hoping I’d only missed out on one or two questions at the most. I planned correctly and used the door right by the escalator leading down closest to the meeting room where the line for Garrett Wang’s Q&A was forming. I needn’t have hurried; the line was not that long and the room was not that full. I finished reading the Torchwood book I’d brought along while sitting in line. And I made the most of it and got an excellent seat.

11:30 AM-12:15 PM Garrett Wang Q&A Garrett was amazing. He was funny and personable and nice and entertaining all in one. He said that he knew if there were other Star Trek: Voyagers there, we’d be at their Q&As instead, but he was so wrong. Harry Kim was my favorite character on Voyager, hands down, and it was a pleasure to see Garrett in person. He told his the story about meeting Shatner for the first (and second) time. He did multiple impersonations of Star Trek characters. He told about his surprisingly popular “Still boldy going” typo shirts. I explained about the cast’s reactions upon arriving home. And he told the story of his running into the terrible “Code of Honor” episode of TNG over and over again. I embarrass myself when I talk to celebs, but for the past few days, I’d been working up the courage to ask Garrett a question during his Q&A. For YEARS I’ve been wondering something only a few people could answer–and he was one of them. In Galaxy Quest, there aliens design their spaceship from watching how the characters use the computer. So I really wanted to ask Garrett if he similarly planned out the whole station and what each button did during his years at the helm. This was it. I was going to be brave. I really wanted to know the answer and I didn’t get to ask Wil Wheton it yesterday. But before the Q&A portion even started, Garrett said, “Have you ever seen that movie, Galaxy Quest?” and proceeded to answer the question I was going to ask without me having to even ask it! AMAZING! And the answer was that if the aliens had made a spaceship based on his hand motions, they would have been screwed. LOL!

12:15 PM-1:00 PM Catherine Tate Q&A I headed straight up the escalator for Catherine Tate’s Q&A and only arrived a minute or so late, so I got right in and don’t think I missed much of anything. I arrived just as she realized she was at Awesome Con not Awesome.com “Oh don’t tell me that con stands for convention!” She looked great in her comfy Washington, DC hoodie, but she was still larger than life on the stage. Her favorite line from Doctor Who? “I’m not mating with you, sunshine!” David had to invent reasons to stop or slow in running so she could catch up. And her favorite part of leaving the show was getting to do an impression of David in the last episode playing Doctor-Donna. She also recited, upon request, the whole Shakespearean sonnet she did in the comic relief sketch with David Tennant as Lauren and it was AMAZING to hear her do it in person, with some humor injected as well. In regards to advice, she gave us one she liked from the great Imelda Staunton “It’s someone else’s time, and your time will come” and one of her own “What other people say about me is none of my business!” When asked about the timing of her live show, she said she’d had a hard time committing to do it because of having to book venues 18 months in advance “Don’t be ridiculous! In 18 months I’ll have an Oscar and have no time for comedy!” When asked when Donna would be up to now in the Whoverse, she said Donna had probably spent all her money and was back temping in Chiswick. And when asked about Donna with any of the other doctors, she chose Nine but said he and Donna would have gotten nothing done because there would have been too much arguing.

Stan Lee Museum I found myself with an hour of free time before the next Q&A I wanted to attend, so I headed down to the exhibit hall to see the Stan Lee Museum, which Stan had mentioned during his Q&A and that I hadn’t had time to see yet. The line for it was only about 20-30 minutes long, and it was SO worth the visit. There was everything from comic panels to movie props to figures to awards to one-of-a-kind creations to personalized drawings to actual, lit up, Iron Man suits. I took a million photos and spent a lot of time basking in the glow of shiny Iron Men.

2:00 PM-2:45PM Eliza Dushku Q&A I was enjoying the museum so much that I was a couple minutes late to Eliza’s panel, but I was pleasantly surprised to find Clare Kramer interviewing her! I wasn’t sure I was going to be able to make it to her Q&A, so it was lovely to see them both together. They talked about Buffy and Bring it On, as they were in both. And there were lots of questions about other roles of Eliza’s. I loved hearing her talking about the trust she had in Joss’ writing/direction for Dollhouse. She’s a dog person, so she had to work to find her inner cat to voice Selina Kyle. She felt that Buffy ended well. She described David Boreanaz as a “kooky free spirit” when she worked on Angel. Clare’s favorite season of Buffy was Season 5 (and the 100th episode, of course) and Eliza’s was Season 3. They talked about being able to work through their real life emotions through characters. When asked for advice, Eliza didn’t have any at first, then came up with something lovely: “Love myself and love other people. Be kind to yourself and other people. We all have our struggles. I’m just trying to find myself and what will serve me so I can serve others.”

I headed back down to the exhibit hall after that for a last run at the tables. There were a couple on day 1 that I wanted to spend more time at. And, yeah, I bought more art. I also spent $75 at one booth buying myself a couple things but mostly buying Christmas presents for friends, so it’s not that bad! But I did go back to Pride alley and bought myself a lovely naked Nightcrawler piece and another Johnlock piece and a Destiel piece and even a rainbowy Yuri on Ice piece even though I don’t know the fandom yet (I figured I will soon enough and would regret not buying something so lovely).

4:00 PM-4:45 PM These Are a Few of My Favorite Tropes I arrived just in time for my last panel of the day and of the con. It was a great one to end with. With no need to censor themselves, the panelists went through all sorts of different tropes: genre tropes, relationship tropes, circumstance tropes, structural tropes, and fandom-specific tropes. There were plenty of examples and recs to go along with them all. I laughed at the reference to “My Immortal” (“I want to believe it was real!”) and the crack pairing of Yuri/Victor/Obama sounds epic. Was great hearing some of my favorite tropes mentioned and remembering some I’d forgotten about or never really realized were a thing apart from maybe one fic I read that involved it. We all praised tags on AO3 for letting us find tropes more easily. I read a lot of stories of certain types/with certain tropes regardless of fandom or pairing, so I could really relate to “A+B=C and I’ll read it every time!” I also liked “You’re not a true fan of something until you have a cross pairing.” But my favorite was the mention of Shoebox Project followed by “Wolfstar, man. Bless.” Awwwww! It was a wonderful, multi-fandom way to end the convention.

I’m not sure what was happening beneath us, but the building shook and rumbled a dozen times. I headed out as soon as the panel was over, glad to be able to get home before 10pm. For the third day in a row, I sat and read on this exact same bench while waiting to change trains. I finished reading the second book I’d brought along, “For Color Girls Who Have Considered Suicide/When The Rainbow Is Enuf.” So I ended up writing a little bit on the last leg of my journey home.

Awesome Con 2017- Day 3 was originally published on The Fangirl Project