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chandelier-s-notebook · 4 years

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@the-only-gamer-gost‘s WritingTober Day 4: SleepyBoisInc

Set in @moonbowphobia‘s Heist Au. @octopus-defence-squad is also a creator of the Canon.

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There was once a little boy, whose real name has been long since forgotten. He wishes. It would have been if he wasn’t forced to go to school. He’s out of school now, but that’s not when this series of events is set.

- - -

When he was nine he started stealing, borrowing, and bartering is way through life. He was a thief and a bandit. And a good one at that.

They called him Technoblade.

As the tales go: he was a one man show. He worked alone. He accomplished impossible heists. Too complex for only one person. But he managed. And he never got caught.

He was wicked good with anything that had circuit boards. And pray for the poor fool who got in to close quarters with him and forgot how good he was with that switchblade of his.

But that’s not truth. In truth, there were two boys in on the shenanigans.

Phil was Technoblade’s right-hand man. He was the one doing the backdooring. All Techno does is put in a chip, giving Phil access.

Funny how the bandit’s nickname is the part he doesn’t do.

- - -

Phil and Techno met in the first grade. Isn’t funny how he’s lost his birth name in his best friend’s mind? Phil had taken a liking to him immediately. Taking him under his wing. Making sure he was good.

Phil neverminded how much Techno stayed over at his place. He was astounded by the state of the orphanage his mate called home. And not the good kind. So was it a surprise when he didn’t bat when his friend ran away from that place?

If there was one good thing about their negligence, it was that they never unenrolled Techno from school.

- - -

Techno started his life of crime when they were in the fourth grade. His little nine year old stature helping him slip away from the scene.

He started to come to school less frequently. Phil started to worry.

It took three months for Phil it figure it out. It took him two weeks to realize that he couldn’t stop his friend. It took another three before he helped Techno plan his next heist.

Phil was the information guy. He pickpocketed the things Techno would need for things to go smoothly. Security badges, IDs, paperwork, a company laptop. He also made sure Techno had all the tools he’d need.

And he made sure that his mate got his school work when he stopped attending regularly. Made sure he knew when the tests were.

While in grade school, Techno did a lot of little jobs often. As they got into highschool he started to do bigger jobs less and less frequently.

- - -

Phil went to college. Technoblade lost his guy in the shadows. He still had his friend.

He had started to feel safe with Phil. A form of insurance. It was always nice to have someone on your side. So he stopped doing jobs.

He enrolled in college after a gap year with the money from that successful bank heist in tenth grade.

- - -

Phil became a middle school teacher straight out of college at twenty-four.

In his second year of teaching he had a familiar looking kid in his eighth grade class.

Thomas Gold. Why did he look familiar?

It wasn’t unless parent-teacher night, when his older brother came in that Phil made the connection.

Wilbur. Wilbur Gold. That kid that got Techno to come to school once a week, if only for the morning for half a year. He had a little brother. This little kindergartener who endeared himself to Techno when they were in the eighth grade was now a highschool senior.

But he needed to be professional. He couldn’t tell this kid that they had met before.

- - -

From then on he has a soft spot for Tommy and his best friend Tubbo. Even if he shouldn’t have favourites. Even if Tommy is a pain. Even if all the teachers agree that he is a bad influence on good kid Tubbo. Even though Phil knows that Tubbo is just better at hiding his chaos.

- - -

As a teacher, Phil has eyes on the back of his head and ears in the walls. But he pays special attention to these two boys.

For the other students safety. He tells himself. I’m not even lying to myself anymore. He ushers the class out of the sciene lab that Tommy and Tubbo have just filled with gas.

So he hears everything. Especially when he’s in the middle of a lesson and people are being quiet.

“So how do we get Technoblade to help us?”

Phil gets whiplash from out fast his head snapped to their conversation. Bitch. TF. Techno hasn’t been active for six years at this point.

Oh shit. Are these two the kids that have started painting the town red? Is Wilbur helping them?

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Thx for reading. I hope you enjoyed. I have another little story below the cut if you feel like reading more. :)

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[Enter Techno and Phil’s eighth grade teacher]

Pete was just about done with this boy only coming to class on test days and never anytime else, but who was passing every subject with flying colours. He just didn’t know what to do with him. He needed to talk to the kid’s parents.

He requested Techno’s guardian information. He called the orphanage listed and found that they hadn’t seen him in years at that point. And didn’t even lift a finger to do anything about that.

And this kid had to gall to show up after school the next day asking about that proposed interview with his ‘parents’. We wasn’t even in class that day!

Pete sat the boy down. “I don’t want to talk about your grades. I don’t need to talk about your grades. You get top marks. What I want to talk about is your attendance.”

“Attendance doesn’t affect your ability to pass until high school,” he fired back.

“But not going to school is a bad habit to create. High school is next year.”

“If I work now and save every penny, I’ll have enough money to sustain all the lost hours to school.”

“I,” Pete looked this kid up and down, noticing the heavy bags under his eyes. “We’ll get back to that.”

“Sure.”

“I want you to pass. You’re a smart kid. And it would be awful if you had to do this again. But your final mark isn’t all tests. It’s also participation, and homework.”

“I thought as much.” Then this kid. This damned kid. He opened his bag and pulled out a stack of paper. “Here’s all the homework from the school year so far.”

The school year was halfway done.

“I can hand in things I’ll miss on the days I come in.”

“Lord”

“If it makes you feel better I got eight hours of sleep last night. And I have nothing up my sleeves for participation.”

Pete makes an offer, “Group project.”

“No.”

“Reading buddies.”

“I don’t do children.

“You are a child.”

“I know.”

“Well you need to pick the lesser of two evils.”

The kid tilled his head. “How old?”

“The kindergarteners. Thursday mornings. Starting tomorrow.”

He mulled it over. “Fine, but if there’s no test I’m ditching.”

“I wouldn’t expect anymore from my best student.” Pete extends his arm for the kid to shake. “I’m keeping you to this promise.”

“Give me a nice kid?”

“Done.”

They both sat back in their chairs. Satisfied.

“Was there anything else Sir?”

“You know where I live?”

“Of course.”

Pete handed the boy ‘And Then There Were None’ by Agatha Christie. “You have the work packet for this.

“Yeah.” He turned the book over in his hands. “You handed it two weeks ago. I was going to the library this afternoon.”

“I want that book report on my desk Friday.”

“Home desk? Because you’re implying home desk right now.”

“I know.”

“Why can’t I give it to you tomorrow?”

“While I’m sure it’ll be done by then. Friday. Home desk.”

“Yes Sir.”

- - -

The boy walked into class the next morning.

Pete realized how much the other’s equated his presence with frantic last minute studying. He saw there terrified faces.

Pete hadn’t said anything about a test? Was there a pop quiz? How did he know? Why was he here?

But those were all forgotten about when Pete lead them down to the kindergarten room. He had given the boy the nicest kid, according the their teacher.

He didn’t even address the child. He took the biggest book from the shelf and started to read this giant animal encyclopedia to this child.

The soft brown haired boy was very immersed. He flipped right to the back of the book and made his buddie read about whales.

As soon as the hour was up, and Pete called time, he was out. He put the book away. Saying nothing to his buddies. And walked out the room, and presumably the building.

Pete had never seen a group of students so relieved to see the favouritism of letting a student ditch.

- - -

When Pete entered his house Friday afternoon, he was only mildly surprise to see his student on his couch watching his TV.

“You staying for dinner?”

“I thought that’s what you were implying when you told me I couldn’t hand it in yesterday.”

Pete left him to the TV.

~ ~ ~

When the next Thursday rolled around, he didn’t know who was more surprised when Techno showed up.

Him or Phil.

- - -

But Wilbur was sure happy to see his buddie after he left so abruptly last time.

#MCYT WritingTober #Technoblade #Philza #Wilbur Soot #Voiceoverpete #Tommyinnit #Tubbo #Heist Au

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confusednarcissistwrites · 4 years

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Hotsy Totsy Pt. 3 (T.C.)

ahhh the last bit of prewritten work!! thank GOD. reworking my own writing from a few years ago was killing me slowly (who tf let me write). next update will be all fresh 😎 hope you enjoyyyyy. things heating up quickly!

(sexual references)

“Man, this is… crazy,” Nick said, shaking his head. He held his tongue for a moment, his brow furrowed. He knew Timothée was already grasping desperately for something that appeared to be just out of his reach, so he needed to phrase his words carefully. “Look, Tim… she’s a married woman-”

“You think I don’t know that?” he retorted, a wild, grief-stricken look in his eyes. He fell into the doorframe, pinching the bridge of his nose. He knew he shouldn’t be frustrated with his friend; it wasn’t his fault that he didn’t know the full story.

Nick looked at him expectantly, sitting down on the edge of his bed; he sensed this was going to be a late night.

“We met at an audition for A Midsummer Night’s Dream at the college.” Timothée stared at his hands and fidgeted a bit. “She was auditioning for Hermia and I for Lysander, as fate would have it. The connection was instant. Every moment after only confirmed what I’d known the moment I’d met her.” A sad smile graced his lips, melancholic memories of hushed conversations had backstage and through rehearsals. You glowed with life and vigor and enthusiasm; he was snared from day one. “Things quickly grew serious, and I planned to ask her to marry me. But then the draft order came.” His eyes were dark and his hands trembled a bit as he remembered the atrocities of war and the nightmares that still plagued him. He carried on, telling Nick about the day he saw your marriage announcement in the paper and how he, to this day, still believed he was in your heart, that if he could become affluent like her family he would be able to steal you away again. By the time he’d finished his sorry, he had slid to the floor, his back slumped against the door jam. “Before I left, she had promised me she was going to wait for me to return. We’d had our life together planned and names picked out for our future children; I had no reason not to believe her. A couple months at camp turned into two years, and I never heard a word from her. I think I knew then, but I refused to believe it. I kept her on my mind until it became a habit, a coping mechanism, still writing to her every moment I could.”

Nick listened intently to every word, learning every piece of his best friend’s life that had somehow been going on behind the scenes that he hadn’t caught on to; it sickened him a bit. How had he not seen the pain Timothée had been suffering this whole time?

Despite the tragic backstory, he wasn’t sure he could go along with his plan. Married is married. He’d been raised in a home with strong religious values and, though times were changing, he felt he shouldn’t act as an accessory to the two lovers finding their way back to each other.

Seeing his apprehension, Timothée spoke up again. “She doesn’t love him,” he stated earnestly. “She did what she had to so she could get the life she wanted, but she doesn’t love him.”

“How can you be sure?” Nick pressed.

Timothée paused, his eyes closing as if in prayer. “I just… know. I can feel it in my bones.”

Nick looked down at the floor, mulling it over in his mind for a few moments. He couldn’t find it in him to tell him no. “Okay. I’ll do it.”

***

Jordan sat on the vanity as you got dressed for the evening. You wore a rosy-pink, silk shift dress that came down to about mid-thigh with fringe along the hem. Your garters were nearly completely exposed, holding up your black fishnet stockings. You sat down in the chair in front of her, slipping on you Mary Janes and fiddling with the buckles.

“You’re being awfully quiet,” she noticed, pulling the cigarette from between her lips and exhaling swirls of smoke as she spoke.

“Just thinkin’” you replied with a shrug, getting up to pick out some jewelry from the many ornate boxes perched on a shelf inside the armoire. Truth was you’d been off ever since your conversation with Nick the night before.

“That’s dangerous,” Jordan chuckled, slipping off of the desk and striding over to peer over your shoulder. She was in a much more revealing outfit for her performance that evening; a gold, glittering, bedazzled leotard with triangle cutouts right at her waist, thigh high stockings, and a black velvet choker resting against her throat that completed her ensemble.

“You figure he’s gonna be here tonight?”

You huffed, wanting to ignore her as you tried to pick out a set of pearls. “I dunno.”

Jordan rolled her eyes. “What's going on in that pretty head of yours, doll? And don’t say it’s nothing because you know I’m gonna keep buggin’ until you give it up, so you might as well just start,” she chided.

“I just-” you began, clearly flustered. “I’m going through some personal things, okay?”

Jordan went a bit wide-eyed at your snappy reply. “Fine, fine,” she submitted.

You looked at yourself in the mirror as you adjusted the layered pearls that laid against your chest. Would he be there tonight? Noticeable circles were under your eyes, and you looked less than yourself. You patted on a bit more powder, adding some body glitter here and there.

“I’m sorry, J,” you sighed, shaking your head a bit. You turned to see her as she headed toward the door. “I’m just a little tense is all tonight. I’ll be fine soon.”

“I know you will, doll,” she smiled reassuringly, slipping out of your dressing room.

As she stepped out, the door to the manager's office at the end of the long, narrow hall cracked open. Lola, a new fan dancer from Chicago, came slinking out looking blatantly disheveled, red lips smeared and mascara lines down her cheeks. Jordan’s brow drew together as she tried to get a better look. She stepped behind a stage prop, her back to it and her neck craned to watch as the girl scurried away. Before the door closed completely, Jordan caught a glimpse of James sitting on his desk shirtless and his trousers hanging loose.

She quickly stood, ready to storm in there and demand an explanation, but that’s when she saw you standing in front of your dressing room looking shell-shocked. Your entire body was tense and your face white as a sheet. She hurried over to you, pulling you back into the dressing room and closing the door to avoid making a big scene. She had no idea what to say, her mouth open as she grasped for words.

“Son of a bitch,” you muttered, your eyes wide and quickly welling up with tears. The fear coiled in your stomach tightened around your guts, your subconscious hissing cruel “I told you so”s. You shook your head almost violently, expelling them. Short gasps left your parted lips as your chest refused to let your lungs expand.

“Y/N, you need to breathe, love. Come on, in and out,” Jordan quaked, gripping your hands tightly in her own.

You watched her with your eyes that burned from unshed tears, shakily following her breathing she modeled for you. Your chest heaved, and your mind fought hard to clear itself from all the horrible conclusions the other part of you wanted to jump to.

Eventually, she managed to calm you down, but your hands continued to tremble. Jordan looked over you worriedly, feeling like she didn’t know what to do for the first time in awhile.

“I’m- I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation,” you shuddered, pulling away to clean yourself up in the mirror.

Jordan sat looking a bit dumbfounded. “What?” she asked, unsure she’d heard you correctly.

“I’m sure it wasn’t what it looked like.” Even you could hear the slightly hysterical edge to your voice.

“Y/N-“

“No,” you interrupted in a clipped tone. “This will never leave this room.”

While a woman confronting her husband wasn’t something that happened then, Jordan had never had any of it. She also never had believed you to be a woman to be pushed around, and normally you weren’t. Your lifestyle wasn’t one of a typical domestic wife, and, being an educated woman, you’d taken your fair share of guff from conservative men. Yet, you’d never been one for confrontation, especially in your current emotional state.

Jordan shook her head in disbelief. “Y/N, he has no excuse for-”

“If you are my friend,” you choked, “you will pretend nothing happened.” Your voice was broken, but unyielding.

Her face softened slightly, and she stepped back, her hand on the doorknob as she shook her head. “You are upset and don’t know what you’re saying. I’ll see you after the show,” she replied, leaving and closing the door gently behind her.

Nausea washed over you and you bolted for the bin, the contents of your stomach evacuating unceremoniously. Your whole body heaved as you were sick repeatedly, the brief glimpse of your disarranged husband playing over and over in your mind. Denial was a hell of a drug, but your body was beginning to reject it. A quick knock at your door informed you that you were expected on stage in ten. You quickly began to clean yourself up, knowing that once you left that room, you were Daisy: the beautiful, the talented, the flawless. Hotsy Totsy would never know you as anything different if you had any say.

***

“I need a drink,” Nick grunted, hoisting himself from the desk chair he’d been sitting for the past hour, writing intensively.

Timothée hung his coat up on the hook and dropped his briefcase carelessly, just glad to be home. “I’ll pull something down,” he replied, heading over to the liquor cabinet.

“No, no, Tim. Don’t be a bluenose. I want to go out. I could go put in word with Cousin...” He raised his brows, knowing how to convince Timothée into doing what he wanted tonight.

He turned to him disdainfully. “Nick, I’m pretty tired. I don’t think I can handle that all tonight..”

“We are going. Go get dressed,” he insisted, grabbing Timothée by the shoulders and turning him to go upstairs to change.

He huffed but complied anyways. Subconsciously, he was eager to see you again, no matter how many nerves and feelings it stirred up inside of him. He changed into more casual wear: slacks, a white button up cuffed up to his elbows, and his favorite suspenders.He peered into the mirror, mussing his hair a bit before hurrying downstairs.

Nick was in similar attire, but with a striped shirt and a bowtie. “You ready, man?” he asked, slapping a newsboy cap on his head.

“Yeah, yeah, let’s go before I change my mind,” he chuckled.

***

The high-end club was busy and bustling as always that Friday night. Cigarette smoke plumes hung heavy in the hot air, and every person had the Devil’s brew gripped tightly in their fists. A swing group played on the stage while a small group danced the Charleston below them. Timothée couldn’t help but smile as they came in: it really was soothing to his soul to be in such a carefree setting filled with so much life.

As the band’s song came to a close, an announcer came bouncing out and up to the mic. “Ladies and gents, please put your hands together for the lovely and exotic Ladies of Godiva!”

A flock of feathers came shuffling out onto the stage, three pairs of feminine legs peeking from below the large fans. The band began to play a soft and slow ballad beat. One by one, the women began to reveal themselves from behind their ivory plumes, but only in teasing glimpses that fell in time with the music. Eventually, three, jaw-dropping, dark haired women stood on the stage. Their fans were discarded to the floor to reveal bejewelled, scanty bodysuits and long, stocking-covered legs. They all huddled around the microphone and hummed sweet harmonies along with the saxophones and trumpets. Both Timothée and Nick, and every other man in the joint, were held captive. However, it was Nick who was truly in awe. In fact, he was particularly enamored as he took in the sight of the daring girl he’d met a few days before looking absolutely sinful on stage.

Timothée caught him gaping and planted his elbow between his ribs with a smirk. “Put your tongue back in your mouth, dude,” he snickered, leading him over to the bar.

Meanwhile, you stood backstage listening to Jordan and her girls, feeling guilty for snapping at her earlier. James brushed by you, catching your hand and giving you a wink on his way by, on his way to do god knows what with god knows who. He didn’t even notice when your hand quickly pulled out of his as though it were a hot flame. You wanted everything to be okay, but it was still too fresh in your brain. Before you knew it, Jordan was brushing past you with the other girls, giving you a soft smile. You smiled back, feeling a bit of relief that she wasn’t too upset with you for your outburst.

“Next up, our Lady of the Night: Miss Daisy!”

You quickly slipped into your role, a pout on your lips as you strutted on stage. The feeling of hungry eyes didn’t even phase you anymore. However, your heartbeat quickened slightly as you imagined one certain pair of eyes. You pushed that to the back of your mind and focused on the feelings bubbling in your chest. A thought came to you suddenly, and you turned on your heel to bend down to whisper into the drummer’s ear. He then, in turn, murmured down to the rest of the band while you returned to the mic. “Good evening, how is everyone doing so far? Everyone have a drink?” Your voice was low and sexy, the crowd curled into the palm of your hand as they cheered and whistled for you. “Well, I have a little something special I think you all are gonna like tonight alright?” You looked to the drummer, and he gave you a nod of confirmation that you returned.

Timothée leaned against a wall in a more secluded part of the club, eating up the swagger that poured off of you. His imaginings of what you’d become after all those years had far from given you justice. You were not at all shy; you never had been, but seeing you right where you had told him you wanted to be made him bubble with contagious pride. His eyes widened when you growled out the first note over the nearly silent club. Once everyone recognized the tune, cheers and hollars joined your voice, many girls hopping up and pulling their dates over to dance. All he could see was you.

“You ain’t nothin’ but a hound dog snoopin’ round the door..” Your body rocked to the percussive beat, your face scrunched up in emotion. “You told me you was high class, but I can see through that..”

You dug up the rage bubbling in you and growled it into the microphone, feeding off of the audience’s shouts and howls. Your hips snapped to the beat as you danced and sang your heart out.

Timothée watched you with a nearly predatory gaze. Hunger bubbled up in him; he was greedy and desperately wanted to pull you away from all the lustful men in the audience to be his and his alone. He wanted to feel you up against him again like the many escapades you two had had in college.

Your last note rang out over the crowd of cheers and catcalls, your chest heaving from not only the exertion of your performance, but also the emotions rushing around your mind. You stayed in character despite it all, but found your eyes searching the audience.

Suddenly, there he was, his eyes already on yours.

Timothée was deafened by his heartbeat in his ears as his eyes met yours. Somehow, he managed a small smile.

You quickly came to, realizing you were staring on stage. Your eyes flitted away, but you were clearly distracted as you waved and slipped off stage. You easily let Jordan pull you out and down the stairs and into the alley outside to get a little break. Everything felt like a blur.

Nick, who had been mingling around the club, watched as you two bolted outside; he knew this was his opportunity. He looked around for Timothée but couldn’t seem to spot him. He figured he was probably drinking somewhere and headed the direction you had left, weaving between the dancing bodies. He was met with a big man in a bowler hat blocking his path.

“And where exactly do you think you’re going punk?” he questioned, his thick New York accent making him almost unintelligible.

“My name is Nick Carraway. I’m a cousin of Y/N’s, Miss Daisy,” he explained, trying not to cringe at the brute’s horrid smell.

After a moment of contemplation, he stepped aside. “You best keep your hands off the ladies or I’ll bash your little head in, ya hear me?”

Nick nodded quickly, hurrying past him and out into the alley. Girls in skimpy feathers, jewels, velvet, and silk stood about in little groups, gossiping and sucking on cigarettes or cocktails. It was a lot of the young bachelor to have to take in, but eventually he spotted you. Girls shot him dirty looks and muttered things from “whatcha you lookin’ for? your ma?” and “who is this little peeping Tom!’ to “Hey, sugar. Wanna ride?” and many other crude things that made him blush hotly.

“Cousin Nicky? What are you doing back here?” you said, spotting the tall boy weaving through all the girls and looking incredibly uncomfortable. You heard Jordan laugh softly behind you, clearly amused by how flustered he was.

“Y/N! You were fantastic as always!” he smiled, giving you a small side hug. “You and Jordan were both uh, stunning! Yes, you were stunning.” He flushed, shaking his head as he stumbled over his words helplessly.

Both you and Jordan just laughed and thanked him. However, you could tell there was more to what he had to say.

“Anyways, Y/N. I wanted to ask you something, um, privately,” he stammered.

You gave Jordan a little look and she politely excused herself, brushing by Nick and making him blush again.

“Go ahead,” you ushered, curious as to what was so important.

“Well, I was hoping you’d join me for tea and luncheon tomorrow,” he said.

You tilted your head, eyes narrowing a bit. Did he know? “And you needed to ask me this in confidentiality because..?”

“Oh well, I um, have a… male house guest currently. I wouldn’t want to start any sort of rumours or anything.” It was a lame cover up and you both knew it.

“Will this ‘house guest’ be joining us?” you asked, trying not to be too conspicuous.

“Well, I suppose you’ll have to just wait and see,” he replied, scratching the back of his neck.

“Alright, Nicky. What time?”

#timothée chalamet series #timothée chalamet x reader #timothée chalamet imagine #timothée fanfic #timothee chalamet series #timothee chalamet x reader #timothee chalamet imagine #1920s #hotsy totsy #confusednarcissistwrites

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wigglebox · 5 years

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The real Team Free Will

HELLO! I have emotions and thoughts.

Over a feather.

(screencap first seen on @jensensitive post)

(please keep in mind I’m very tired, may have missed some points, and my brain doesn’t work too much in deep deep meta way)

At first I was agreeing with the theory that omg-- Lucifer!Sam? Because in the ‘Last Ride’ trailer you see Sam in that (hnnnghh) white suit.

But then I also started seeing theories that it’s Cas’s presence on the table.

So why TF is that there but not another POP! figure? The room is full of them.

I woke up this morning with the conclusion that yes, it’s meant as a Cas reference. And I also woke up convinced that he’s really gonna be the cause for God’s downfall. (and @skuldugg3ry96 spoke with me back and forth this morning so thank you!)

God has a habit of not focusing on Cas, and that’s going to be his own damn problem in the future. Cas has already ‘ripped up’ one of God’s endings, there’s nothing to suggest he won’t do it again. God (I know it’s Chuck but I’m calling him God in this piece) only focuses on two people: Sam and Dean. Cas is an afterthought. Yeah, he’s rebuilt Cas here and there, but really was he anything other than just a fun distraction?

You have God repeating his mistakes the first time around with the apocalypse stuff, ignoring the “spanner in the works”. But Cas was reset back to factory settings repeatedly over his existence, meaning he’s really this weird agent of free will, constantly being engaged with it and making choices that are against the pre-programmed, do as we say, Angels.

So what am I talking about when I say “the real team free will”?

The Empty: Either a character or an arena, regardless, can’t be influenced or touched by God. He has no say there, and as a character, no say over them. He can’t write The Empty doing this or that -- the Empty is its own agent of Free Will.

Billie: Death can reap God if I can remember correctly. Death operates independently of God if they choose. God may want to select who’s going to die and when, but Billie has made her own choices as well. I’m remembering in Advanced Thanatology she literally as her reading room of books of people’s “fate”. And she’s almost like an agent of free will to Dean as well:

“[...] every notebook on this particular shelf tells a version of how you die. You specifically, heart attack, burned by a red-haired witch, stabbed by a ghoul in a graveyard, and on and on. But which one’s right? That depends on you, on the choices you make.”

But, to be fair, she kind of retracts his choice in the moment saying he doesn’t die today. And then also indicates she’s had her eyes opened to the bigger picture.

My conclusion, she knows the overall picture and wants people to move in that direction, but still acknowledges people have a choice. Also, she works (I hope I pray I believe) independently from God.

Jack: Jack tore through space and time and created a rift into multiple of God’s rough drafts and abandoned works. God doesn’t like him, and wanted him killed at the end of 14. Jack is the hybrid of a human and an angel - symbolically at least, the hybrid of free will and do-as-you’re-told. He pushes our boys in OG TFW to make their own choices. Dean chose in the end not to kill Jack etc etc.

Cas: Do I really have to explain this? Also, he chose to move on at the end of 15x03, breaking his circle of repeated mistakes.

Cas still has a deal with the empty which I suspect will probably be touched on in 8,9, or 10 (or maybe all three!).

These characters to me, right now, scream ‘Team Free Will’. They’re the ones pushing TFW to make their own choices, whereas God sits at a desk, only focusing on Sam and Dean and shoves Cas aside like he’s a used toy.

God ignoring Cas and (I believe) not influencing his decisions will literally be his own personal downfall to his deep, dark, depressing ending.

The good news is that God gave away the ending, and we know he’s telling the truth because Becky confirmed it. And, it’s clear he’s only focusing on Sam and Dean which means the series won’t end with just those two, and (hopefully) won’t end very depressingly.

Because you got these real Team Free Will characters in their life as well to counter God’s vicious plan.

#original #text #spn #spn meta #spn discussions #my spn meta #i guess #this whole episode was meta #i loved it #1504

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maawi · 5 years

Text

@obaewankenope said: Every third flower bc I can't type that many names lmao

ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME, DARLING, SHOW SOME MODERATION.

God. Okay. Putting replies under read more bc this will be LONG AS YOUR TRIP TO HELL.

Amaryllis: Birthday?

Shouldn’t you know by now. October 5

Arum-Lily: What’s the farthest you’d go for a stranger?

Honestly, not far. I’m good with helping people I don’t know as long as it doesn’t require much from me.

Baby’s Breath: Would you kiss the last person you kissed again?

Yes!

Basket of Gold: Describe your family.

Huge, loving, quick-thinking, Catholic, constantly all over each other’s business.

Bellflower: Favorite animal?

Cat cat cat cat cat ca- Also swallows. They’re fucking adorable.

Bloodroots: When you were a kid, what did you want to be when you grew up?

I had a lot of ideas on that - a journalist, a shitorical fiction writer, a teacher (lol), a traveller, a veterinarian... The first and my favourite though was becoming a ballerina.

Borage: Give a random fact about your childhood.

I was lactose-intolerant for the first 7 years of my life, lactose-free chocolate was virtually unheard of in Poland at the time, and I had huge sweet tooth. My favourite uncle always brought me Milki Way bars to make up for the tragic lack of chocolate in my life <3 He’s the one whom I adopted as my Godfather a while ago, I’m sure you can see why.

Camelia: If you could visit anywhere, where would you want to go?

Paris, Canada, Ireland, your house, Earth orbit.

Canterbury Bells: Do you have any piercings?

Just the ears.

Carnation: What are you currently wearing?

...red dress with “LOVE is mt favourite colour” written on it. Coulnd’t be more Libra if I tried.

Chrysanthemum: Who’s the last person you kissed?

K. Shocking, I know.

Common Boneset: What are you looking forward to?

Getting to the end of these questions XD

Crocus: Have you ever been in love?

There weren’t many times when I haven’t in the last 12 years or so tbh.

Daffodil: What’s your zodiac sign?

If the previous question didn’t make it obvious, it’s Libra.

Daylily: What would you do if your parents didn’t like your partner(s)?

*shrugs* Well, they don’t. They don’t know about one of you and disapprove of the other. I’m trying my best not to give a fuck.

Foxgloves: What’s something you’re bad at?

Technology.

Gardenia: Are you happy with where you’re at in your life?

I’m- Yeah. Mostly, yes.

Heliotropium: What helps you calm down when you feel stressed?

Hugs. Or dancing to ABBA and such.

Hollyhock: Describe your ideal day.

No alarm in the morning, no close deadlines, majority of my favourite people around me.

Irises: Who can you talk to about (almost) everything?

You, The Spices, K.

Larkspur: What do you think of yourself?

“Pretty okay, trying very hard, if only she would chill tf out”.

Lilac: What’s something you liked to do as a child?

Tell my mom what I figured out about her friends once they were out of the earshot and have her check what I got correct or not.

Lily of the Nile: What is something you feel guilty for that you shouldn’t feel guilty about?

The current situation between me and my parents.

Morning Glory: What was your bedroom like growing up?

Tiny, with light green walls and old af furniture that would smell weird when cleaned. Way too many porecelain figurines. Books and notebooks and various papers everywhere. Terrarium with a tortoise that was adorned with drawings. Desk that was too full of everything to properly open the drawers. Meticulously arranged school stuff. Produly displayed gifts, ones from my friends and older brother had their own little shelf.

Onions: Tell us about your dad.

He’s an asshole.

Peony: What was your first job?

Tutoring kid of the neighbours downstairs in English. We were both absolutely sure I would be crap and it would be terrible. I don’t know who was more surprised when it turned out pretty great instead.

Pink: Where is home?

Where heart is! Embrace the mushiness!

Primrose: Describe your ideal life.

Speaking of embracing mushiness... Okay, so:

- I work as a translator/editor just as I do now, but for more agencies than now so I have more work/money.

- I managed to figure out how to have a cat without dying from allergies, AND I HAVE A CAT. Or two. Maximum three.

- My parents got over the whole marriage thing, and my relationship with my mom is good while my relationship with my dad is non-existant.

- Poly marriage is now legal. I’m married to both you and K.

- The three of us live together.

- We own the building we live in.

- The ground floor is a queer bookshop/cafe, and the rest of it contains of free/cheap af housing for queer people. A safe haven of sorts.

- Every Christmas we organise a huge holiday party and all of our friends come because I can afford to get them all plane tickets.

Rose: What’s your favorite sound?

Laughter of people I care about. I also really like crickets.

Snapdragon: At this moment, what do you want?

TEA.

Sweet Pea: How much sleep did you get last night?

Uhhh 7 hours?

Transvaal Daisy: What’s your favorite item of clothing?

Red and black swing dress in polka dots. It’s so FUN.

Vervain: What’s stressing you out most right now?

The whole situation with my parents.

Yarrow: Do you know what vore is?

Unfortunately.

#ask game

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