#lucifer is forever an arse
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Teddy Bears
Tags: Solomon/Reader, Established Relationship, Confessions, Kissing, Domestic Fluff, Babysitting, Childcare Magic (gone wrong
Summary: Solomon messed up again: but this time he messed up with Luke. He needs your help (no, not like Dora the Explorer) to control the pack of Teddy bears walking around the Purgatory Hall right now… and to control Luke who keeps making it worse. Well thank Diavolo you used to be a babysitter back in the Mortal Realm.
Luke: *bear emoji* *SOS emoji* *crying emoji* PLJSE CXME
You stared at your phone, unable to make head or tail of the text. It sounded like Luke had encountered a bear and wanted help but… what the hell—
So you called his guardian.
“Hello? Oh it’s you, MC!”
“Hey there Simeon! Erm, I think you’ve hit speakerphone…”
“What’s that? Something I should turn off? Can you hear me?”
“Yes yes, I can. Never mind that, erm, is everything alright? Luke just sent me a chaotic text…”
“He did? Does he do that often with you?”
“No...?”
“Oh… well I’m out, meeting here at the Castle, Solomon’s with him so I’m sure he’s alright.”
You bit your cheek, hearing the rustle of paper. Meeting at the castle… forget Diavolo and Barbatos, Lucifer was definitely there. Whatever turmoil Luke was in, if Solomon was with him, it definitely wasn't alright. And maybe it wasn’t too smart to say anything dangerous with both a protective Simeon and a murderous Lucifer on the line…
“Oh he just sent another text apologising, apparently it was a dare Solomon gave haha,” you lied, laughing nervously. “Sorry for bothering you guys! I’ll go now.”
Without waiting for a response, you cut the call and dashed outside, shouting an “I’ll be right back, don’t tell Lucifer!” to an inquisitive Asmodeus downstairs.
Solomon hadn’t answered the phone yet by the time you reached the Purgatory Hall. You banged loudly on the door when the handle didn’t budge. You could hear the sorcerer swearing terribly from this far… terrible way to look after a child no matter what was going on. “SOLOMON! Open up, it’s me, MC!”
“MC?” Bang— Crash— Thud— Solomon stumbled to the door, undoing the dozen different locks and pulling it open to find you there in all your messy, disheveled, ran-down-the-street-to-help glamour. “Thank goodness you’re here! Come in quick, watch your step, and don’t dare touch any of them.”
“Any of wh—“ your words got cut off as you walked in on a colony of teddy bears. Adorable and fluffy stuffed bear cubs, each with a ribbon of one of five different colours around their neck. How cute—
Except they were alive.
What the— “Solomon what the hell did you do?”
The bears were walking all over the place, checking out the television and radio remote controls, the switches and paintings on the walls, the ancient aesthetic lampshades at almost every corner… crawling all over the cushioned armchairs, two climbing the curtains and one dangling from the freaking chandelier!
This is why nobody leaves a child with a crackhead sorcerer.
One of the teddies walked right up to you, scrutinising the visitor.
“Don’t touch,” Solomon ordered.
“Relax, I heard the first time. But why, do they go rabid?” You laughed.
“No…”
Apparently your laugh was beautiful to hear because the teddy stepped closer and tapped your thigh (the highest it could reach). The instant it did, the teddy burst into a cloud of glitter that cleared up in seconds to reveal TWO teddy bears.
“...they multiply.”
“Clearly,” you shook your head. “I am so not walking through this mess, Solomon.” He nodded, grabbed your hand and whisked you away. The teddy closest to your feet gaped in awe as you and your sorcerer partner vanished into thin air, reappearing with a crack, right outside the kitchen.
“…warn me next time,” you clutched your stomach, finally understanding why Harry Potter from the books whined about Apparition.
“You asked for it,” Solomon grinned. “Literally. So you see—”
“Just sum up the problem at hand in less than five sentences.”
“O…kay…”
“That’s one.”
“…” He sighed and took a deep breath. “Luke wanted me to show him a 'fun spell' of mine,” he opened three fingers on his hand and folded one. “I don’t know much childcare magic and only remembered this and a cupcake juggling one.” Two. “I assumed the five-favourite-teddies-brought-to-life one will be less messy. There, satisfied?” He asked, showing his closed fist.
“Well you assumed wrong. All of this,” you swung your hands around the house. “Started from one teddy?”
“Yes. And they answer to the same names as their origins too. Like…” he pointed to the one hanging from the chandelier that just fell. “There were five. Red bowtie was Strawberry, Pink was Peach, Purple was Grape, Yellow was Lemon, Orange was—“
“Orange.”
“Tangie,” Solomon shook his white mane. “For Tangerine.”
“Same difference.”
"So now… if I called out: Tangie!”
Every last orange-bowtie bear in the mansion turned to look at them, black beady eyes staring. In curiosity, but given the sheer NUMBER of black beady eyes, it appeared murderous to you. Solomon chuckled at your stiff face and pulled you close by the waist, dragged you into the kitchen and shut the door.
“That’s just such a bigtime mess, Sol…”
“I know, love,” he sighed and pulled out two chairs for you both.
“Why the hell Tangie though?”
“Short for tangerine.”
“…why not just name him Orange?”
“That’s your problem right now?”
“My problem is why angels are so confusing, and sorcerers so reckless. You could have tested it out, then gotten rid of— wait why don’t you just explode them with some spell?!”
He laughed at the way your face lit up with the suggestion, glowing with pride at your 'ingenuity'. “Actually, I tried that. But one bear exploded into dust and Luke won’t let me anywhere near the rest.”
“He’s mad at you?”
“Absolutely furious. Insists on not 'killing the poor teddies'.”
“But you know… he did call me for help.”
“Wait he called you?”
“MC?!?!” A younger voice squeaked behind you. “MC YOU CAME!”
“I’m here, Luke,” you opened your arms wide and he ran into them, wrapping his hands around your neck and wailing on your chest. “Goodness, what on earth shook you up this bad?”
Solomon sat beside you, open-mouthed at Luke’s childlike open show of emotion… he only did that with Simeon.
Or so he had believed.
“MC, there’s so many bears it’s scary! A-and they broke things! They b-broke Simeon’s favourite antique tea-set… Simeon’s going to hate me!”
“More like he’s going to hate Solomon, this dude’s the one who did it,” you jabbed your boyfriend harshly on the shoulder, earning an “Ow!”
“No, I’m the one who asked for it…”
“Oh? So Solomon’s not to blame?”
Luke shook his head against your neck. “Don’t yell at him. It’s my fault for asking something tricky.”
You glanced over his golden hair at the man beside you who had claimed the boy to be angry with him just a moment ago. You cocked an eyebrow, smirking.
He looked rightfully flabbergasted.
“All right then. Let’s do this. Before you came, I was reminding Sol here of a spell from a while back. That spell should help to get rid of them all—“
“Get rid of them?!” Luke’s eyes widened in terror.
“In the sense of making them leave. The spell teleports them to somewhere far away where they can be safe.” You stroked Luke's head, pulling him closer. “So why don’t you and I stay in here with the door safely closed, until Solomon does his magic? You can do it, right Sol?” You glanced at the man, waving your hand subtly, signalling ‘Explode them’ and ‘clean up the dust so he won’t realise’.
“A-Ah! Right. Certainly,” Solomon jumped to his feet and rushed outside, pulling the door shut behind him.
The walls were perfectly soundproof: Simeon probably had it done that way to block Solomon’s kitchen bombs. You gently pulled Luke off your neck and placed him on a chair, brushing down his crumpled clothes and fixing his hair.
He watched you silently, big blue eyes staring into your soul. “You’re really kind.”
Your hand stilled in his hair. You looked down at him, barely hiding the surprise written all over your face. “Who knew little Luke was capable of compliments too?”
“Hmph,” he crossed his arms with a pout. His face softened again. “I’m serious. You… You really like Solomon?”
“Mhm.”
“Do you love him?”
“I— What is this supposed to be, an investigation from the little brother before permitting marriage or something?”
“I’m not the little brother! I just want to know. Simeon always says Solomon could never be with someone unless they’re ridiculously patient and kind. The exact opposite of him,” Luke rolled his eyes. “I think you fit the picture. And I think Simeon would agree.”
You hardly registered the big, warm smile on your face, but you saw Luke reflecting it. “Perhaps so…” You shrugged. “I don’t know about that but to answer your question: yes, I do.”
“Have you told him yet? Or are you and Solomon as ignorant idiots as those mean demons are?”
“Erm… second, probably.”
Luke stifled a laugh, not ready to let down his proud armour that much yet, and pushed himself off the chair onto his feet. “There you go! You gave me teddies, I gave you this. We’re even now.” He grinned at the door, waved to you and marched out the kitchen into a clean and empty room (at last).
You were on your feet, spinning around to find Solomon leaning on the doorframe, presenting one of his smuggest smiles yet. “Well. I knew it wouldn’t be too hard to get that from you but never in my wildest dreams…”
“Would you have thought Luke would have to do it for you,” you rolled your eyes, mimicking Luke a minute ago. “What now, you’re going to take me off on a trip to celebrate?”
“Honeymoon so fast, love?” Solomon tsked, beaming wider when you flushed scarlet. “Actually, I’d have preferred a trip to my room but your nanny called.”
“…Lucifer.”
“Yep. Super mad. Wants you home right away.”
“That man has to ruin every perfect moment.”
“Not necessarily,” he strode closer, pulling you into what you would later call his sweetest kiss yet. Nothing too soft, nothing too harsh, sweetly sucking on your lips, tongue tracing the lipgloss. Your hands were in his silver hair and his were on your waist, and all of a sudden your knees hit wood and buckled into a soft tower of blankets. He pulled away for a breath, letting you look around to find he had brought you straight to your room.
The door threw itself open: Lucifer had probably sensed the intrusion on his mansion. His mouth was wide open, ready to yell your soul apart, but his “WHAT WERE YOU THI—“ skidded to a halt when he saw Solomon standing by your bed, his hair a horrifying mess, beads of sweat gleaming on his neck and forehead.
The mission to explode a hundred thousand teddy bears had been exhausting, indeed: but Lucifer didn’t know that. All he could think of was… other reasons.
“Despicable,” he muttered, slamming the door shut.
Solomon burst into laughter, flopping onto your bed and rolling around guffawing. “Imagine mistaking a teddy bear battle for that!”
You lay down next to him, watching the happy patterns his accidental magic drew on the ceiling. He's happy. Thanks to me. You smiled. “You’re such an airhead.” You punched his shoulder.
“Now I know you do love me for it.”
He was happy, and you couldn’t possibly be happier. “Maybe.”
#gender neutral mc#obey me#obey me fluff#obey me mc#obey me x mc#obey me x reader#obey me x you#solomon x reader#obey me solomon#obey me solomon x mc#solomon x y/n#solomon x you#solomon is your boyfriend#luke is kinda your child#lucifer is forever an arse#obey me lucifer#obey me luke#obey me solomon fluff#solomon + his magic = chaos#kissing#love confessions#luke is the best wingman ™️
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"You did say that your mom is actually Satan, right?"
"No you fucking IDIOT."
"You didn't listen to me when I said No, and you didn't listen to me when I told you I was spoken for, and you STILL don't listen to my words in the slightest!"
"Your contempt for understanding that women are real people who have to be treated with consideration astounds me, disgusts me, and above all, makes me want to rip your slimy little face off your skull and wipe your arse with it, honey."
"I digress."
"I SAID that my mother @malka-lisitsa is The Devil. Active Current Ruler Of Hell, in the dimension that takes care of vampires and such. Not to be confused with the Other Hell which Lucifer, @cullxtheherd SATAN, is the creator of! In his fall from grace. My Angel, always and forever. Heaven may have renounced him, but he will have a home in my h e a r t. I will never forgive them for his Fall. N e v e r. He was their f a m i l y. Their b r o t h e r. How could they do that to him?"
Getting emotional.
"What was your question again? I got distracted, by being far too interesting."
"Oh!"
"Right. My mother: Devil. V e r y scary, nigh unkillable. Frighteningly powerful. I think that makes me an heir and a princess now! Officially!"
"Why the FUCK does your scraggly ass want to know?"
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Lucifer ~ A Cure To Boredom
1,300 Followers Challenge!
Round 3 – Bonus fics!
Masterlist
Based on an imagine found here by @spn-imagines-nation
Words: 1,188
Warnings: Neutral Reader, demon reader, mentions of torture
It had felt like such a long time since the apocalypse, but that could’ve just been because time passes differently in Hell. You weren’t overly pleased when you ended up here after being murdered by Michael while trying to help the Winchester’s, you didn’t think it was fair, but that was exactly what the demons torturing you used against you.
You lasted a long time on the rack, longer than most humans from what you were told, but it eventually made you an exceptionally strong demon. Your hunter instincts made you a damned good soldier, and for a long time, Crowley made good use of it.
It was actually rather dull, really, and every time you thought that life, if you could call it that, was going to be like this forever, then you’d much rather off yourself than deal with it.
Things changed a little for you when Sam and Dean tried to cure Crowley, and your bitterness at the boys broke through, demanding to know why they had just left you to rot and then not taken a chance to get back. Neither of them had an answer outside of Crowley being more dangerous, and ultimately him regaining some of his humanity was the only reason you were still alive, but after that, you were on your own.
Being a demon really did take some of the fun out of life. Drinking now had no effect on you, and humans, unless they knew what you were, had a bad habit of practically falling down at your feet. It honestly made you resent humanity even more, at just how weak they were, and yet they weren’t the ones that were stuck in a life of eternal servitude.
Hunting was often boring now too. You couldn’t die easily, and with the added strength of being a demon, most hunts were just child’s play and only satiated your boredom for a short time before you were back at square one, questioning exactly what you were meant to do with yourself.
More than once, you found yourself practically begging the universe for another apocalypse, anything to make things more interesting.
It seemed like not too long after you’d had that thought, that rumour reached you of Lucifer’s return, something that was confirmed when several demons turned up to take you back to Hell.
Curious, you went willingly with them back to Hell, wondering exactly what Lucifer was going to want with you, if indeed the rumours were true.
The first thing you saw was Crowley locked away in a cage in the corner of the room, dressed in a rather horrible shirt that you knew was probably eating him up more than anything. Then, your gaze moved to the throne, where Lucifer, currently using Castiel as a vessel, was watching you, rather amused.
“So, the rumour was true.” He said with a smirk. “The little hunter Michael took out was doomed to Hell.”
You raised an eyebrow. “So, the rumour was true. You’re back and still apparently a pain in the arse.”
The demons around you flinched, but you weren’t easily intimidated, you’d been through far too much to give into simple things like that, and frankly, with how bored you’d been, death was probably a nice reprieve.
Lucifer chuckled, having always found you amusing, even when you’d been human. “That I am, thanks to little Sammy again, I might add. I have to say, I’m a little surprised that you aren’t still with them, even being like you are.”
You snorted as you folded your arms, glaring at him. “You mean the two men that left me to rot in Hell? Then decided to try and cure him-” You gestured to Crowley. “-instead of me? I don’t owe them shit, nor do I owe you shit for that matter, so what am I doing here?”
His smirk widened and he looked around at the other demons. “Leave us.”
The demons all disappeared quickly, leaving just you, Lucifer, and very disgruntled looking Crowley.
Lucifer stood and walked slowly over to you, amused when you don’t move, seemingly unafraid of him. “You’re here because I wanted you here, and that should be more than enough for you.”
You raised an eyebrow. “Not even he could keep me here, so what makes you any different?”
“Well, I’m not some pitiful little demon to begin with-”
“No, you’re not, but you’re still just a little angel that likes playing with shoes too big for him.”
Lucifer’s smile faltered, his eyes flashing for a moment as he held your gaze. “I’d watch your tongue Y/N. You may amuse me now, but don’t think I won’t hesitate to rip it out.”
“And what would that accomplish exactly?” You asked, raising an eyebrow. “I’m already a demon, one very confident in my abilities, so torture really does mean bugger all to me. Having my tongue ripped out was practically a regular Tuesday when they were trying to turn me, among multiple other things. Those particular demons did eventually regret doing it, but that’s not a story I particularly feel like sharing.”
“Now that…sounds like hell.” Lucifer chuckled after a moment, his eyes not leaving you, his amusement clearly returning. “But you look like you came out of it alright.”
You gave a bitter laugh. “If you call being bored shitless, alright, then alright.”
This was clearly something that he was expecting to hear, because his smile suddenly widen. “What if I was to tell you that I have an…opportunity to cure that boredom?”
“Y/N, don’t you-” Crowley’s words were strangled in his throat, but you paid him no mind.
You shrugged. “That would entirely depend on the opportunity, and just exactly what you want of me during it?”
Lucifer shook his head slowly. “That is going to have to wait. You have to prove that you’re worth my time first. That you can be…loyal.”
“Loyalty means shit to a demon,” You folded your arms. “And you know that. Just tell me what you want done and I’ll do it for the sake of it. That’s all he used to do.”
“Ah, so point you in the right direction and you’ll do it because you can?”
“Pretty much.”
Lucifer smirked. “Now, that makes you interesting. Take out anyone still loyal to the dog over there, and I’ll give that special opportunity on a silver platter.”
“That’s it?” You asked, not quiet believing it. “That’s all you want me to do?”
He nodded, turning away, stilling smirking. “That’s it. It shouldn’t take you too long.”
You stared after him for a moment, and if you had wanted to, you could’ve easily taken a shot at his back. Luckily, you weren’t that foolish, and he was offering an opportunity like no one else had yet since becoming a demon.
Glancing over at Crowley, you shrugged indifferently. “Sorry Crowley, it’s nothing personal.”
Crowley glared after you as you left, but it quickly turned to Lucifer who was chuckling, sitting back on the throne. “Oh, you were very right, Y/N is much more interesting now. Let’s see what happens, shall we?”
#1300 followers challenge#bonus round#from me#supernatural#lucifer#lucifer x neutral reader#lucifer x reader
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When in Rome...
Pairing: Rowena x reader
Summary: Your and Rowena’s moment of fun is ruined when an alternate world hunter starts making unreasonable demands.
A/N: Set after 13x21.
Editor: @miss-moon-guardian
*****
Things were hectic at the bunker, and if it wasn't for your and Rowena's tiny, same-private space, you would have gone insane. The two of you settled on a pair of chairs by the library, invisible to the swarm of people around you. It was more for your benefit like hers; Rowena could handle herself amongst people just fine, having done so for almost four hundred years.
As an introvert, you were finding it difficult. There was too much noise, too many people. They were like ants, swarming you, surrounding you, technically harmless but not enough for you to let your guard down. They may not have wished you harm, but the majority of them were still hunters. As such, they couldn't be trusted. Just because Rowena had helped them didn't mean they posed no threat. The two of you were witches, and that was enough for them to want you dead.
You were supposed to be on your way home by now. With the rift taken care of and everyone back home and safe, you and Rowena had done your part. But there were still a few things the Winchester needed help with and Sam had asked Rowena to stay for a while longer. She agreed, and thus you were stuck. You weren't going to leave her here alone, the only witch in a sea of humans. Leaving her alone had gotten her brutally tortured and murdered by Lucifer the year before, and from then on the two of you had agreed to stick together as much as you could. Where one went, the other followed.
"You have to work on your pronunciation," Rowena said. You were having difficulty with a spell and had asked her to help you out. Anything to pass the time.
"Gaelic is hard," you said.
"It is," Rowena agreed, sympathetic. She was a great teacher, endlessly patient, quick to calm you down every time you got into one of your I-quit moods. "Would it help if I wrote down the phonetics for you?"
"Yes, please!"
She smiled. "Alright." You handed her the piece of paper the spell was written on. She took a pen from the coffee table and started scribbling on the back. "When we get home, we're starting Gaelic lessons again."
"Okay." You'd handled Latin just fine, but could never grasp Gaelic. It was a difficult language to learn. Pronouncing it was all but impossible. "There's a language school in town. Maybe I should sign up for Gaelic lessons."
Rowena looked at you, deadpan, serious. "Don't insult me."
You grinned, which prompted a smile to break free on her mouth. "Just kidding. You're a good teacher."
She raised an eyebrow. "Just good?"
"Great. Awesome. Gorgeous." Her face lit up; the way to Rowena's heart was through flattery. "Sexy. Lovely. Adorable."
"Adorable?" she questioned.
"Most adorable." You booped her nose, and she scrunched up her face, confirming your words. Adorable. Adorablest. Goodness, you loved her! "God, you're so precious!"
She playfully smacked your arm, cheeks flaming, red as her hair. "Am not."
You pouted. "Ow! No violence!"
"Then behave."
"So mean."
"That's right. I'm mean. Not adorable, and certainly not precious."
"Sure." Your tone was dripping with sarcasm. Rowena rolled her eyes with all the drama of a theater actress, a practiced, seasoned one. "Think I'll ever be as powerful as you?"
The thought came to you out of nowhere, though it wasn't the first time you'd pondered it. Rowena was a powerful witch. One of the most powerful witches in the world. Was it possible for you to acquire such power? Birth hadn't gifted you nearly half of it, but was it possible to amplify what you had? Was practice and studying enough? Or would you forever be a regular witch, no different than any other in the crowd?
You were okay with being ordinary, but it would be a lie to say you didn't aspire to be like Rowena. The woman could make gods fall to their knees, could make archangels tremble in their vessels. One word, and what she wanted was hers. Who wouldn't want to be like her?
Many witches would kill for a chance to study under her. You were dating her. All you had to do was ask, and all her knowledge, gathered through centuries of hardship, was yours.
You just needed skill to harness it.
"Aye," Rowena said without a moment's hesitation. Completely and utterly sure of her response, as if you'd asked if the sky was blue or if bees made honey. She just knew it, and she was certain of it, and it made your heart swell up with warmth. "You're a natural-born witch, just like me. You're skilled, and you work hard." A smirk grazed her lips. "You have a great teacher, after all. I don't see why you wouldn't be like me. Power is taken, not given. Remember that, dear. I was born with potential, just like you. It was up to me what I did with it, and I made the most with it because why wouldn't I? It was mine for the taking."
She made it sound so easy. So effortless. Want? Take. Have. The end. If only you were gifted with such confidence. If only you were so sure of your capabilities. You weren't a bad witch by any means, but your power was still raw. Untamed. You still struggled. In comparison to Rowena, you were a peasant.
To be fair, almost every witch was a peasant in comparison to her, but that didn't make you feel any better about yourself.
"You're really good at pep talks, you know that?" you joked, trying to lighten the glum mood that befell you. No use beating yourself up over something trivial. After all, it was just magic. Your magic, that worked perfectly fine the way it was. However much you wanted it, you didn't need limitless power. You weren't helpless; you could defend yourself if you were in need. You could fight. You could have fun. So what if you couldn't seek out and kill reapers? It didn't make you any less of a witch, no matter what your insecurities said.
"Shut up!" Rowena said, a traitorous giggle — one of the most adorable, precious sounds she could make — escaping her mouth.
"You should pursue it as a career," you teased.
It earned you a glare that had to have killed before. The kind that scared everyone but you because you knew her enough to know she was all bark and no bite. A yappy puppy that loved to put on an act in attempts to be tough, all the while melting into a puddle at the softest touch.
You pecked the tip of her nose and blew her a kiss as she shot you another glare. The corners of her mouth twitched; she kept it shut, lips a thin line, giggles begging for freedom that would never come.
"You know what my favorite spell is?" Your eyes wandered to a bookshelf across from you, right behind Rowena. You focused on the spine of a random book; a leather-bound one, with neat writing and intricate lines trailing around the letters. As old as you and Rowena combined, possibly older. Beautiful in that way old, well-loved books were. Your hands rose up in the air, palms open, and you said, "Liber."
Magic stirred within you, a warm, comforting rush of delight, and the book shot out from the shelf, straight into your waiting hands. Your mouth dissolved into a grin as you clutched the book to your chest, heart brimming with pride, with wonder. No matter how many times you performed the same spell, it never ceased to amaze you.
"Lazy-arse," Rowena commented.
You shrugged. "Why should I get up when I can just say the word — Liber—" you glanced at another book, and it, too, jumped into your hands "—and voila! It's here."
Rowena shook her head. "I should have never taught you that spell."
"Hey!" you protested. "I'm a practical girl."
"You're a lazy girl."
"You say that like it's a bad thing."
She sighed, shaking her head.
"It's fun and you know it! Liber!" This time it was a journal, written almost a century ago by some Man of Letters. You set it on your lap, atop the other two books. Rowena couldn't help it — she chuckled, and you shot her a smug glance. "Told ya."
"It's not—"
"Could you stop?"
The two of you looked up, startled by the unknown voice. A man was staring at you. He was tall, hair a scruffy brown, clothes hanging on him like curtains — Sam and Dean's borrowed flannel, too big for his skinny frame.
Rowena frowned. "Beg pardon?"
"Could you stop doing magic?" His voice was strained. Politeness as fake as the smile he was trying to put on. "Please."
"We're not doing anything bad," you said, baffled by the request. Unsure how to approach it. "We're just having fun."
He swallowed. Cleared his throat. Swallowed again. "Could you please not do it?"
Why did that please sound so accusatory? So insulting? As if he wanted to call you a bad word and opted for a pleasantry instead, hoping you wouldn't notice.
"Why should we not?" Rowena asked, daring him to shed the mask and say exactly what was on his mind. Challenging him the way she always did, never one to back down.
"It's making me uncomfortable," the man said.
Rowena raised an eyebrow. "Is that so?"
"We're not doing anything to you," you said. You didn't even know his name. Up until now, you'd never seen him before in your life. Plenty of people had rushed in through the gate; you were more focused on Rowena, tired, at the end of her strengths, than the swarms of strangers bursting in through the rift.
"I don't like magic."
The man's cheeks flushed, a faint tint of shame staining them red. It was hard to believe he had any shame, saying things like that. For all you knew, it was as fake as everything else about him.
"Or witches." Instantly, pulling on a ridiculous smile, he added, "No offense."
People always said that, as if the phrase somehow made the blatantly offensive thing less offensive. As if it made it okay just because someone said (and lied through their teeth) they didn't mean it.
You stared at him, flabbergasted. Rowena's face was the picture of offense, but there was a flicker of amusement in the small smile on her mouth. She'd heard it all before. All the worst insults, she knew by heart. Nothing surprised her anymore. The audacity of the man, though, made her want to curse him right then and there (you could see it in her eyes, the desire to let her magic roam free, to unleash it upon him), but she kept herself in check. No need to make a scene — yet — over an insolent man.
"I don't mind you… doing whatever it is you do," he said. "Just, please, don't do it in front of me."
"Then don't look," Rowena said simply.
He tilted his head. "What?"
"If our magic bothers you so much, don't look at it. Surely you are able to look away?"
A nervous smile. "In my world, witches—" the word was spat out as if it were dirty, foul "—don't hang around hunters. And they don't use their magic around us, if they know what's good for them."
Was that a threat?
"This isn't your world, is it?" Rowena said, cold as ice. Tone a thinly-veiled threat.
"I'm just saying I'm not used to seeing magic being used so openly," the man said with an innocent shrug.
You couldn't resist a retort. "And we're not used to being threatened so openly." Two could play this game.
"I'm not threatening you."
"Yes, you are." You weren't going to back down, either. Rowena had taught you well. Alone, you would have cowered, maybe ran away, but with her there, you had nothing to fear. She wouldn't let anything happen to you. She wouldn't let a stranger — an ungrateful hunter — lay a finger on you. "Leave us alone."
He held up his hands, a feigned surrender. "I'm not doing anything to you. I just want you to stop using magic around me."
Looking him straight in the eyes, you held out a hand to your side and exclaimed, "Liber!" The book — a random paperback — flew perfectly into your palm. Not taking your eyes off the man, you laid it on the others in your lap. Does this bother you? your gaze said. Challenged. Dared. Does it make you uncomfortable?
It apparently did for he shifted his feet awkwardly and took a large breath. "Please, don't do that. I don't want you any harm. I just don't want to be around magic."
"You're the one who approached us," you pointed out.
A gulp. "Like I said, in my world—"
Rowena cut him off. "Shall we find you a way to go back?"
He stared, baffled. "What?"
"You seem to miss your world. Would you like us to help you go back?"
"Wha-that's not what I'm saying!"
"Witches fear you in your world, do they not? Isn't that what you want?"
"I don't… that's not what this is about. I don't want you to fear me!" The tone of his voice, his demeanor, the flicker in his eyes said otherwise. "Just stop using magic! How hard is that?"
"You didn't mind our magic when it kept the rift open for you and your people to come here," you said. "Maybe we should've let it close and left you in that war-torn shithole."
A vein on his forehead popped, face flushing an angry red. "I didn't ask for your help!"
"Why'd you come here, then? You could've stayed home. No magic there."
"You don't know what it's like to see everything you've ever known destroyed. The people you grew up with dead. Your home shattered to pieces."
"Sounds horrible." It truly did. "Seems you're better off here. With witches."
"I'm not used to your kind."
"Get used to us, then."
"Your kind is unnatural." He spat it as if it were filth.
There we go. "So you do have a problem with witches." Surprise, surprise.
"I don't want you here," he said. As if his opinion held weight. As if he had any say in the matter.
You couldn't hold back a laugh. "Sam and Dean are our friends." Acquaintances? Allies? Who was counting anymore? "We've been here long before you. If that bothers you, why don't you leave? You're living here for free. You're wearing Sam and Dean's clothes and eating their food. You don't get to make any demands."
"Who are you to talk to me like that?" he spat. "You're just a witch!"
"And you're an ungrateful bastard!"
"Watch your mouth!"
"Or what?" Rowena said. "What are you going to do, boy?"
The hunter leaned in as if to whisper a secret. "Sam and Dean won't always be around."
"That's right," Rowena told him, looking him straight in the eyes. Making her own threat clear. "They won't."
He laughed. "You're pretty feisty for a witch. Knew a few of them just like you. At the end, they were all begging for mercy."
"I don't beg."
"Yet."
"Leave us alone!" you shouted, purposely loud, having had enough of this. You'd agreed to stay on Sam's behest, but you'd never signed up to be harassed. You weren't going to let some lowly hunter threaten you.
All the chatter in the Bunker instantly stopped. Heads turned your way. Eyes observed you, curious, confused. The hunter froze at the sudden attention, caught off guard.
"Is everything okay?" Sam asked, walking over.
"This guy's threatening us," you said.
"What?" He eyed the hunter, who put his hands up.
"She's lying."
"She is not," Rowena said. "This nit won't leave us be."
"Is that true?" Sam asked him.
The hunter sighed. "They were using magic. I just told them to knock it off."
"We were just having fun," you said.
"And I told you I don't want you to use magic around me!"
"It was a simple bloody spell to pick up books!" Rowena snapped. "We weren't hexing anyone!"
Sam looked from the two of you over to him. "What's the problem?"
"The problem is, they're witches!" the hunter said. "How can you let them into your house?"
"They're friends," Sam said defensively.
"They're witches." His face twisted with disgust. "And they were using magic. Doesn't that bother you?"
"No. They weren't doing anything wrong."
"Their entire existence is wrong."
"Fuck you!" you spat.
"Okay," Sam said, holding up his hands. "Okay, let's all calm down."
It was easy for him to say. He wasn't the one being insulted.
"I want them gone," the hunter said.
Sam turned to him. "They're not going anywhere. Like I said, they're friends, and we need them."
"I don't need them."
"That's fine, but this is Dean and I's home. They're welcome here." He pointed up the stairs. "If you don't like it, there's the door."
Warmth swelled in your chest. Rowena smirked victoriously.
The hunter was flabbergasted. "Are you seriously siding with witches over a hunter?"
"Yeah," Sam said without a flicker of a doubt. "I am. They've helped us a lot. If it weren't for them, the rift would have closed and none of us would be here right now. I understand your reservations, but they're not bad people."
"You're crazy! This world is crazy!" Sam shrugged. The hunter rolled his eyes. "Suit yourself. I'm not hanging around witches."
He slid up the stairs and slammed the door on his way out so hard the walls shook. You sighed in relief. Good riddance.
"What was that all about?" Dean asked, emerging from the kitchen with a sandwich in his hands.
"One of the other world guys didn't like our rules," Sam said.
"Sucks to be him," Dean commented, took a bite out of his sandwich, and went back to the kitchen.
"You guys okay?" Sam asked.
"Aye," Rowena said. "A wee hunter doesn't scare us."
"Sorry about that. Most of the guys are really nice. I swear, this won't happen again."
You sure hoped so.
"Don't worry about us, Samuel. We're big girls."
You nodded, though it felt nice to know the Winchesters — for once in your life— were completely on your side.
"You're always welcome here," he said.
"We know," Rowena said. "Do you happen to have any more of that scotch from last night?"
Sam laughed. "Sure. I'll get you some."
"It would be much appreciated."
You quirked up an eyebrow. "Seriously?"
She shrugged. "That nincompoop exhausted me. I need a drink."
You supposed that was fair. Maybe you could snag a glass as well.
And, hopefully, you could head home soon.
As welcoming as the Winchesters were, there was no place like home.
*****
Tags: @werewolfbarbie @oswinthestrange @songofthecagedmoose @apurdyfulmind @getthesalt-sam @metallihca @salembitchtrials @jay-eris @hellsmother @elizabeth-effie @shadowgirl-vsb @rowenaswife @wonderifshelikesroses @xfireandsin @liddell-alien @hotdiggitydammit @lae-lae @darkhumorsblog @angel7376 @cherrypierowena @evil-regal-vampiress @collectorofsecretsandsouls @angel-e-v-a @a-queen-and-her-throne @carryon-doctor-lock @fangirlxwritesx67 @rowenaslilwitch @midnight-lestrange
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lucifer sentence starters
episode 4 - 6.
you broke into my house?
you were taking forever in the shower.
are you sleeping with this idiot?
never been thrown out of anywhere before in my life.
something very disturbing's just happened. it's horrific, really. for the second time, i've been thrown out of a woman's house.
i mean, i appeal to the virile urge in all wo/men.
you need to go undercover, because you're our best way in.
why is she able to refuse my charms?
people don't have power over us. we give it to them. you have to take your power back.
i need to take back control. i need to behave like i always have.
i mean, it seems obvious now, actually - i need to have sex with her.
are you gonna help me or not?
you're quite adorable when you're flustered.
i'm not flustered, i'm nauseous.
okay, look. let me make myself perfectly clear: i will never, ever, ever sleep with you.
playing hard to get? i like it.
wow. you've never been rejected by a woman, have you?
the odds are definitely in your favour out there - probably not batting for the same team, but you never know. go forth and conquer. i know you want to.
i promise, if anyone here hurt your sibling, i'll find them. and i'll punish them.
if you weren't so pent-up sexually, we'd be firing on all cylinders, i'd say.
i certainly don't need any help getting wo/men into bed.
do you honestly think you can just ask people to have sex with you and they will?
you forget. i love pain.
men - they always want to talk!
we can get him/her back to where s/he belongs, if you could just provide me with a weak spot.
seriously, darling. are you well? the berries are ripe and ready to be harvested - i mean, look at me.
don't. please.
if i get an STD from this thing, i'm gonna kill you.
is there anyone you suspect that might do this to you?
do not shush me.
a deal's a deal - especially one with the devil.
i do believe there's good and evil and right and wrong.
does it scare you?
i mean, how could i be scared of something i don't believe in?
do i scare you?
either way, he's going to get someone killed. probably himself.
this love thing makes you all quite stupid, doesn't it?
just hand over the cash, and no one gets hurt.
i believe that's a fair request, actually, so just pop her around and the money's yours.
greedy little jackal, aren't you?
what is it about you and guns, eh?
what's up, jackass?
hell truly hath no fury like a woman scorned.
i happen to be an expert on punishment, and i'm not sure it fits the crime here.
chlamydia, the clap, a raging case of crabs - that's what you deserve. not death.
why do humans think they can rectify one evil with another?
why does everyone say that before they're punished?
come on, shoot me.
son of a bitch, that really hurts!
i don't bleed!
i don't lie. but i don't always tell the whole truth.
can't sleep when you're not home.
the models don't appear to be wearing any clothes.
you were shot and you bled. no sharp objects until we find out why.
the danger of getting hurt is positively thrilling.
now come on, tell me your most dangerous desire.
we need to get out of here now.
i am dreamy, but try to contain yourself.
i got a taste of danger, and i want more.
that whackjob's gonna totally get me killed.
tomato, tom-ah-to.
see, that's why we make such great partners - the 'he said, she said' of it all.
when do i get my own gun?
i wouldn't trust you with my kid's lightsaber.
if i'm gonna be forced to work with you again, i call the shots.
bloody hell! that hurt! do it again.
you know, i'm quite skilled in restraints.
let me guess, you did him a favour.
i process tragedy through my work.
that favour you owe me... i'm calling in my IOU.
i was trying to prevent more death.
well, aren't we the little saint?
you are the oldest young person i've ever met.
i'm not gonna drink at a bar where everyone hates me.
did you ever consider that they hate you for that very reason?
well, somebody's not being crowned homecoming queen, are they?
surely you've heard the expression 'deal with the devil'...?
people come to me to ask for favours and more often than not, i'm happy to oblige.
i don't need your sympathy, but thank you.
firstly, let me state that i'm in no way standing up for my associate, but on behalf of myself, and only myself, i think you're a complete sack of arse.
sadly, the only thing broken was that incontinent troll's nose.
if i'm not going to look out for you, who will? hm?
maybe next time, i won't be around to save your ass.
you and my backside used to get on well.
is it my thanks you want, or a kiss?
i don't do favours for guys like you.
what is it with the men in my life?
act like a child, get treated like a child.
witnesses said they heard you making threats at the door.
no wonder he can't get it up.
so you're just gonna sit around and wait for revenge? that's rather lazy.
i was promised a gang war, and instead, i get a crybaby. this is boring.
you know, they really don't make bad guys like they used to.
after five years behind bars, a brothel would be my go-to.
i can't be held responsible for what happens after i give someone a favour.
if there's one thing the devil knows, it's that people need to take responsibility for their own bad behaviour.
enough danger for you yet?
you do remember that bullets hurt, right?
you had your hero moment. stay down, or you're gonna get shot.
ass saved. you're welcome.
you're addicted to creating chaos and seeing where the chips fall, to hell with the consequences.
you're having another one of those 'gut feelings', aren't you?
you've already wasted so much of your life.
oh, well the good news is that whilst all dogs go to heaven, you'd be surprised how many pigs are waiting for you in hell.
you were never as good as me.
keep your enemies close, right?
who gave that order?
if you come clean now, i'll go easy on you.
if you really want to do something, you should.
shall we move the party upstairs?
so what unpleasantness felled this heap of unrealised ambition then?
let's pretend for one second that you're someone else - someone nice. someone mature.
i mean, getting murdered is probably the most exciting thing that ever happened to him.
i gave up an epic foursome to be here.
call me when you've got a murder with a pulse - or at least someone good-looking.
i was hoping for a good shag just as a palate cleanser to wipe the foul taste of boredom from my mouth.
i need your help like i need a third boob.
- knew that was a mistake the moment it came out of my mouth.
i'll have two tropic wonders and your face smashed into the ground.
i believe they call this interrogating!
we were like fish and chips - salt and pepper - hipsters and condescension!
if we're gonna work together on this, you're gonna have to trust me.
nobody steals from me and gets away with it.
he's not gonna change.
i thought you said lying was a bad thing.
you're not from around here, are you?
you can't just smash two people together like barbies and think that that's gonna fix things.
pardon the intrusion, you village people rejects, but one of you has stolen something that belongs to me.
please identify yourself, so i can punish you accordingly.
i thought we were past you thinking you're invincible?
a few bad apples shouldn't paint us all in a bad light, now should it?
you like being considered a criminal, don't you?
he's hiding something. we need to force it out of him.
i've sat in a parked car and not had sex.
have i done something to offend you?
ooh, whip out the cuffs then.
why shy away from a little bondage fun?
despite all your weirdness, i actually really like working with you.
i have never lied to you. and i will never lie to you.
been a while since i had a good hunt.
you'd never lie to me, right?
stick within the limits of your intellectual capacity.
why do they blame me for all their little failings?!
don't call me that, please!
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MICHAEL.
PEN hovered over the new portfolio, listening to the bustle within the department, blinds concealing the name stamped in bold ink. Murders he was quite accustomed to, having solved some heinous crimes, but things had been getting closer to home. ( The moniker The Sinnerman had recently been shed, leaving him operating within the shadows nameless. ) For old habits died hard; tracking celestials now a necessity. Perhaps one day he hoped they’d slip up, leading him towards the Almighty which he seeked for answers.
( It was hard to tell, the LINES having blurred, identity adapted to suit current time period. )
Marcus PIERCE had served him well. It had taken a long time to perfect his cover, a wolf in sheep’s clothing. Yet how much of humanity were also real? Did they not also all wear masks and put up fronts? Just not quite so successfully as he? Working within close proximity with the Devil himself, it had been clear to see that not everything was as it seemed.
How he had loathed LUCIFER Morningstar, outside looking in. The narcissistic bastard had been the epitome of arrogance, and yet his intrigue at the fact the forsaken himself could bleed had led him to LA where he had done a lot of self discovery.
( So why despite all fresh INTEL was he no close to discovering how to BREAK his curse? )
Was he just destined to walk the planet FOREVER? His hope had been starting to dwindle and then the strangest thing had happened. The whispers of Michael eventually reaching his ears. Oh how his arrival upon Earth had gone unnoticed, but for a select few. For Cain it was swift, he had a knack for seeing the signs. Putting the pieces together one tended to overlook.
Yet another of GODS children was no doubt up to no good. Concealed within his very own church. Probably another one with an ego so big it would be halfway up his arse. No doubt as disappointing as Lucifer and his so-called promise, but he had to be certain; storing his files away and setting off on his motorbike. ( Caring not whether his brakes screeched as he arrived at his destination or the heavy door slammed as he snuck into the place of worship. ) He’d learned before, there was no point playing pretend where they were concerned.
It was easier to make the FIRST move - like starting a game of CHESS.
What was the worst that could happen?
#maelpereji#† | V; Like moving pictures in my head ; for years and years they've played. ( Main. )#† | Oh let’s go back to the start. ( Starter. )
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Recently I’ve been thinking a lot about Crowley as a character. The demon who canonically drank for a week straight after he saw the atrocities of the Spanish Inquisition, thought God overreacted when She expelled Adam and Eve from the Garden, who met Jesus and showed him the kingdoms of the word because of his “limited travel prospects”. Crowley is one of my all time favourites.
Anyway, I wrote some ramblings about The Fall™ and thought I’d share.
(As a disclaimer I’d like to say I’m not an expert on religion and this isn’t intended to offend anyone, it’s just a rambling based on the excellence that is Good Omens, obv belonging to the incomparable Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett).
Here we go:
Crowley hated the word “fallen”. It didn’t really describe him at all, yet it appeared to be everyone else’s preferred adjective to label him with. Hastur, Ligur, Beelzebub – even the angel – had called Crowley “fallen” on more than one ocassion.
It made his skin crawl. Crowley hadn’t fallen anywhere and, for the record, he hadn’t sauntered vaguely downwards either. He had only invented that line to keep up appearances. The truth was much less cool than Crowley cared to admit.
Really, he’d tripped. Crowley had been up in heaven, bored, and asking too many questions about the “great plan” (ineffable had never been a concept that he could easily grasp), when he had started to well…peer downwards over the precipice of heaven.
The thing is, there were so many rules and restrictions attached to being an angel, many of which Crowley strongly felt merited an explanation. You weren’t allowed to do or say certain things, you couldn’t just create whatever you wanted, and if God said jump you were meant to say how high and, listen, your legs got tired after a while. Could you blame Crowley for wanting to know why he had to keep jumping?
Heaven had blamed him. All the archangels begged Crowley to stop asking his questions or gave him vague non-answers. God didn’t even try to respond – she’d just smiled at him knowingly whilst the phrase “trust in the divine plan” echoed from the Metatron.
And yes, admittedly, Crowley had been hanging out with the wrong angels. Those who spread rumours as confidently as truths, despite the shaky foundation of rotten knowledge that they stood upon.
All those years ago, rumour had it that Lucifer Morningstar could answer Crowley’s big question and that his response wouldn’t dare mention the words ineffable or great or plan. So, Crowley had leant over the proverbial cliff’s edge just to…take a peek at what was going on down there.
But he lost his footing, or was nudged off, and well…that was it. “Fallen”. Forever.
And on the very long way down, Crowley had tried to grip onto some kind of ledge or ridge, anything to save himself, stretching out his hands until his shoulders ached but the distance was too great. Crowley’s wings wouldn’t work – they were too busy changing colour, alight with the velocity of his descent.
The whole thing had been Earth’s fault, really. Creation had been going swimmingly before God had introduced the grand idea of Earth. Crowley had quite enjoyed making the stars, taking due creative licence with their shape and brightness. Being one of God’s appointed little helpers had been…alright. Until it was announced that God felt the heavens had been sufficiently filled with galaxies, nebulas and the like, and that the new big thing to be made was Earth with people, children, animals, life and death.
It all sounded so…unnecessarily cruel. Crowley learned that the minds of humans were to be made fascinatingly complex; they would be given free will, just like the angels had, but with finality – a time limit – and little to no supervision over their actions.
In the planning of Earth’s creation, God had given Crowley a glimpse of Human Love. Being an angel at the time, Crowley could sense this virtue deeply and its nature was unlike the vast yet vague love that heavenly beings held for all things great and small.
Angelic Love was to Human Love what hearing your favourite song played on a dusty radio interrupted every few seconds by static interference was to hearing that same song performed live in an acoustically perfect arena. Angelic Love had been pleasant, but it now seemed imperfect to Crowley, as though it were missing something.
Nearly 6,000 years after his fall, Crowley would explain that Angelic Love was like having to take an acceptably clean and empty public bus home from a day’s work, whilst Human Love was like doing ninety miles an hour down a stretch of open road in his Bentley, with a Best of Queen album blasting from the radio (and a certain angel’s laugh echoing from the passenger seat).
And Crowley learned that, according to God’s will, humans would feel this love all the time for objects, animals, other humans – especially for the little ones, known as children – but this would create pain, loneliness and suffering because sometimes the other humans wouldn’t love them back or would die. Even the little ones.
It didn’t seem fair. They were meant to be the “Good Guys”, right? So why was Crowley being asked to create innocence and love just as some other angels were making cruelty, destruction and plagues?
“Original sin” his arse. That excuse had irked Crowley; he’d taken his peek downstairs later that day.
Crowley couldn’t claim, though, that he’d strayed from the heavenly path because of a sense of love or sympathy he had for the nearly existent humans. He didn’t tumble out of God’s grace because he was “too good” for heaven.
He’d just really liked the human version of free will. Crowley desired, more than anything, to do as he liked; to make his choices, good and bad, unimpeded by the push and pull of the invisible strings that tied him to God’s ineffable plan.
Only problem? Hell was no better than Heaven, of course. More lies, still no answers and insufferable boredom. Crowley had never thought his saving grace would come in the form of some half-hearted order to go up there and make some trouble. See if you can answer your questions for yourself, they’d told him.
And then there was Earth, Eden and most importantly Aziraphale.
An angel, who had given away his flaming sword to protect the tempted. And in that moment, Crowley really fell.
Not in the shameful, biblical way. No, this falling had burned deep inside of Crowley but this time it hadn’t hurt. It was exhilarating – he’d felt alive.
So, maybe Crowley was “fallen”, but not in the sense everyone else believed.
Crowley wasn’t fallen from, he was fallen for. When he really fell, he fell purposefully. It was his first choice, all his own.
And, so far, it was the best one he’d ever made.
#good omens#crowley#anthony j crowley#i write things sometimes#crowley inspired me#ineffable husbands#the vibe is defo there#i love this book and i love this show#aziraphale#crowley x aziraphale
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14x01 watching notes
RIP Kip, we hardly knew ye.
Well hey, returning friends and people who unwittingly clicked on this not knowing exactly what they're in for. Blowing off the dust and starting a new season of Dabb fuckery, which I spent way too long trying to think of a portmanteau for when I already have the episode downloaded
It's 5am, let's DO THIS.
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So they start with Dean's Hi I Am A Cop On The Day Before I Retire speech re: hula girls and hawaiian t-shirts which is remarkably prescient of me to have been irrationally upset about that one detail after I binged most of season 13 last night to get me back in the mood. So now I have to elaborate on my one line textpost >.>
Because yes, that is the perfect note to start the season on: Dean thought the good times had rolled, allowed himself to hope, assembled himself a family with mom and step-pop (Bobby counts as a full father but AU Bobby is step-pop), brother, husband, kid... Said kid was promising A World Without Monsters aka Dabb's showrunning tagline for an endgame he teases them. And Lucifer was tucked safely away in an AU with the murderous Michael... And then in a series of events it all came crumbling down and with this amount of goodness in his grasp, he gave up what even when the real Michael was hounding him for it, he couldn't before.
Because in season 13 it is beyond obvious that Dean is tired, an Old Hunter, the best of his game but ready to bow out on that note, and yet for him it's not a matter of stepping back and letting someone else handle it because when Michael and Lucifer were involved, it was beyond personal. He and Sam only EXIST because Lucifer and realMichael wanted them to. And so there was no way this trouble would come to someone else's door, when it was the nasty angel on his shoulder and the devil on Sam's and we have Nougat as their collective responsibility who's the nexus of it all anyway.
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Eeee the Road So Far text is glowy grace colour on a dark blue background. I'm JIZED for the title card.
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Goodness, the Road So Far is a weird journey because we see Jack being all useful and magic and then callbacks to 13x01 and 2 where he was a messed up 2 day old and Dean just wanted to murder him.
I haven't outlined any expectations for this episode or even this recap but I suddenly realise that I should probably be wondering how much DeanCas we're gonna get in it, and this rage against Jack is subtextually motivated, for sure, but for me the first 6 episodes of Dean's grief arc were wonderful character stuff but removed from the main plot and therefore in my head I keep boxing them off like a bubble season, like 10x01-3 are, and I legit wasn't even expecting to SEE content from them in the recap, because brilliant as they are I sort of just forgot they were a part of this season despite watching them yesterday. The season for me became so much the Jack And Mary Search that this hiccup at the start didn't meet the requirements to be in season 13 :P
They're just That Time Dean Was Really Sad About Cas Then He Came Back And They Were Cowboys
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Oh good there was "everybody we've lost" and then a recap of Cas dying and then - oh, we're recapping plot again? Er... everybody? Dean? Who else? DEAN?
this was the thinly veiled subtext of that line anyway since Dean waved off Mary and made it all about Cas anyways but. Yikes, editing team.
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Jesus I watched season 13 yesterday and I forgot about Asmodeus. You know what, this is pre-coffee AND the 2 types of anti-brain fog medication I gobble in the morning.
But he's that much of a useless lump
Also too much Lucifer nipple on screen pre-coffee. Ick.
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Nice recapping of Not The Levitating Fight.
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NOW
Stock photo Nyoom of the season!! Hi Baby! You aren't in this episode because Eugenie said the car wasn't being used this season
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Sam's got his Vengeance Eyes on but he's all scruffy and grown up so I trust him 10000% to get the job done.
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OW. FUCK. OW. OWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW. GOOD USE OF INTERSTITIAL MUSIC
Why were you even listening to Dean's tapes if they fuck you up that badly? IS THIS YOUR VENGEANCE PLAYLIST? I'VE BEEN WAITING 10 YEARS
Actually, I haven't, I binged 4-5-6 as one unit after thinking the show was cancelled during the writers' strike but the point is that Sam and his ipod in 4x01 is immediately in my head because he was listening to his own music and being a hipster douche, but now he is not on demon blood he has not installed an ipod dock because he's GETTING DEAN BACK, DAMMIT but at the same time he's also realising that this means a heavy toll that the only driving music in the car is Dean's stuff...
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Oh no, this must be the guy from the SDCC clip we hadn't seen because Osric Chau is banned forever for illegally uploading them all for us in the past, and all I know is that Deanchael is going to Fuck Him Up and I feel very bad for him
*raises my mug to Osric* I'm sure you tried, dude. And thanks for the previous years.
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Hi Deanchael. I noticed in a promo pic that his tie has that sacred geometry type pattern on it which is a detail I made a mental note to type out literally anywhere in the like month between there and here and did not so here it is at a hopefully appropriate place.
Based on every other scene setting detail I suspect that this faithful man is actually still within the USA because this is literally the cabin set they re-use for everything. The spoilers made it sound like Deanchael was globe trotting to raise his army but now I see what's around us... Yeah no he's as focused on the US as every other big bad before.
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Anyway they really specifically chose this prayer to Allah because of how pointed it was about being only for Allah and how he was the best, so I'm assuming Deanchael is here to be like yo God's gone and I'm your last chance of faith
-
Like just ruin his day and he got up at like 4am or whatever the first prayer is to do it and all
-
I hope, like, no offence to any Muslim viewers or anything >.> They sure play fast and loose with a lot of this stuff because Christian cultures are full of bitter non-believers raised in the culture and looking to kick up at the big guy in the sky, which is not an impression I get that Islam is as used to cultural flippancy, regardless of personal beliefs of residents of predominately Muslim countries and cultures. I'm not 100% sure though, because the closest link I've got is my raised-Christian Iranian friend who applies Christian eye-rolling to the issues with being in Iran and heathen so I still get that perspective of middle fingers up at Organised Religion from our discussions about it all... anyway big diversion, still waiting for coffee to kick in :P I just swallowed the last of it so I can only get more jittery from here on out!
-
It's so fuckin weird to see Dean's face confidently reciting verse in Arabic
I mean you don't need the hat, sir. I get it. It's not you in there.
-
Well so far anyway he's playing on the fact that the guy does pray to god and his angels.
-
Lol @ this man guessing his way through God AND Gabe to Deanchael's annoyance that he's the 3rd guess and he has to clarify that he's the better one.
Man, Gabriel worked on his reputation. I wouldn't have been able to tell you who Michael was because there wasn't even a kid in my class with that name when I was age 4 busy portraying Gabriel in a nativity play with full impish glee that the real deal would have been proud of.
-
Uhoh things aren't looking good for Jamil D: Asking for peace and love is good, you funky little hippy.
Is Deanchael implying that the Syria insurgency is the route to peace? I honestly don't know enough about the American foreign policy politics to know what sort of stance this is though from a liberal leaning show (I mean come on Bobo is a card-carrying socialist, I've seen it on Twitter :P), though to an outside viewer well aware of how fucked up it all is should this have been said on a British program, this is a vast over-simplification.
But we know Michael's main traits are Likes War and then also Warmonger and of course, spoilin' for a fight. So this may be a personal judgement and as much as they're bringing politics into their show I'm just backing right on out and going with this :P That he thinks it is more honourable to stay and fight and that Jamil is a hypocrite for not sticking around to work for peace actively.
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Oh Jamil hooked up with a woman called Darleen. He is FOR SURE in America.
-
It's so funny to me that Deanchael can fly anywhere and they could have set this anywhere but it still ends up being a wooden cabin in the US. This has to turn out to be a lead to follow with a news report about the poor guy or else this is just hysterical that they couldn't be arsed to mock up even a hint of another country :P
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He knew all this about Jamil beforehand so I have to assume he's really just here to drag him.
-
Man, that throw was GOOD. I'm assuming they either spent all summer playing with wires and stunts or else they've gone back to the drawing board on all this flinging people around business.
-
"A better world" oh we are so on for this World Without Monsters malarky still. This lines up with the clip from Dean they opened on so well - the dark irony of he and Michael working on the same project but from different angles. Dean wants to sort out monsters and bad things so he can go on a beach, aka his version of paradise, and Mikey wants to smush all the sinners, and clean up the planet, which is HIS version of paradise.
-
HECKIN GOOD TITLE CARD
now photoshop those wings on everyone
-
I LIKE SCRUFFY BULLET MAKER FROM THE AU.
He's like so happy to be in a world where you just casually have resources.
Meanwhile poor Maggie has become the de facto nurse and hates it.
Ugh the Bunker is a place where people just show up who yell "Soup's on!"
In my redshirt betting pool, Soups On is the first guy who dies.
-
Promo sceeeeene
I'm so happy Sam and Mary are doing this together. Last season Sam was so upset that Dean got to have a relationship with her, and he had missed out, but without Dean around - no offence to him - Sam and Mary may be focused on FINDING him but this is the work they also need to do for their relationship to start to ground it in something real. It's taken this long with all the separations, but remember that Mary also worked through some of her issues about Sam only last season in the AU with 6 month old Jack. And if she needed that sort of reminder and relationship to warm her up for Sam, her suddenly-grown 6 month old, then there were still a LOT of underlying issues that dated back to the start for her to overcome. Hopefully this puts them on a level playing field, though there's a new conflict brewing for them, with Mary's determined optimism vs Sam's pessimism, born of that depression from last season that never really got treated or resolved, they just managed to power past its current main triggers. Of course now it all just shifts in a Deanward direction.
-
I love how Ketch has been punted to London, at Buckleming discretion to drag him back. This wasn't even Bobo punting him out the door, and he and Buckleming have a violent back and forth over favourite characters, started in 9x06 with Bobo's very first episode when he banished Professor Morrison forever.
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MARY TRIES MOMMING SAM TO GO TO BED
THEN SCRUFFY GUN GUY IS LIKE "CHIEF"
Chieeeeeeef.
Sam runs the shooow here and I love it. He's their badass MoL hunter leader, a scruffy saviour from another world.
Given Sam is wearing the same shirt and jacket in the promo pics I'm guessing he does not sleep, though I hope he gets to eat the soup.
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"Maggie can you hack the traffic cams?"
"um. no."
I love and support Maggie. She is a normal person who happened to live in apocalypse world and she just wants to flirt with the guy from the Gas n Go who probably hasn't talked to her since that got blown up and Jack attacked him over her... I mean, this is better than the AU world but maybe she just wants to be normal? Did anyone ask Maggie what she wanted??
-
SAM. You can eat your soup and run things at the same time! Get back here and eat that soup!
-
"yes sir"
Goodness, this is wonderful. Sam's doing what he was born to do, and then not because that was leading a friggin demon army, but then yes because he's got inherent leadership traits that he defers to Dean all the time because, well, he's there, and he's big bro.
Look, sometimes you need big bro to murder Satan's ass for you forever, but you also should be calling the shots. There's a balance here, where Dean can be the older brother, but Sam can be the boss. Work/life balance. Dean's got your back but you command an army of hunters, like we've all been salivating over since like season 8 when they first said the MoL ran the Bunker as the hub of operations dictating stuff to trusted hunters and the like.
Of course, if Sam is the Bobby here, then who is the AUBobby? I hope we see what's up with that soon, I've been wanting them to bristle those beards in an alpha way at each other for months, because AUBobby was their leader before Sam because Sir Chief.
-
"Sam."
"i'm good"
*mothering intensifies*
"i'm GOOD"
*mothering intensifies*
"How's Jack"
You aren't used to being mothered and it's murdering me completely to my soul. Dean's got SO MUCH MOTHERING all through the show compared to you. He even sees Jody as a mom friend while you crush on her like crazy so you haven't even got that!!!!
Because Chief Sam is the boss of this lot but at the SAME TIME he's getting all these soft tender mom moments he's never got to have before. It's a wonderful balance of nuances to his current life. He's overworked but surrounded by a supportive care team that respects him, gives him soup, and holds his hand, literally in Mary's case. And yet he's the scruffy macho competent boss who knows how to call all these shots, deputise, set up missions, but still knows more than them, how to do traffic cams, I'm sure years of lore over most of these hunters who only learned to deal with what got thrown at them in the apocalypse by trial and error because when do they get lore books? Mary and Bobby and other pre-apocalypse hunters would be few and far between to offer competent training to a populace suddenly all turned hunter.
-
Oh, AUBobby is beating up Jack. Perfect.
-
AAAH DIRECTED BY TJW
WAS NOT ADEQUATELY HOLDING ONTO SEAT
WARN A GIRL
-
I love finally seeing the training room but I'm deeply conscious that this is where Put Up Your Dukes starts and I can't get that fan fic out my mind so I'm just like, Jack, don't lie on the floor, your dads have banged there.
-
I'm so happy that AUBobby is nurturing a grandson, because this is the difference between him and Bobby - that our Bobby had that with Sam n Dean, but AUBobby never did. Though he DID have Mary Campbell to crush on, I doubt it would have softened him and rounded out the harsh places in his soul the same way raising Sam and Dean did, because he had an unrequited love and she hadn't gotten over John, while this recently widowed Mary Winchester actually has made better progress just because of the circumstances of the loss. Anyways Jack has no preexisting history with Bobby so there's nothing weird about him and AUBobby stepping into a nurturing relationship, that Sam n Dean would find uncomfortable in a way, given their relationship with Bobby. And Jack gets yet another strong figure to teach and guide him.
AUBobby looks slim and stands tall compared to Bobby, which I'm largely putting down to posture, and not being drowned in layers. I like this difference - Bobby almost never voluntarily dressed in 1 layer, but AUBobby has a more military slant, and this training sergeant routine with Jack is a good fit to show a difference in his character, that isn't surly old Bobby behind his desk, that he's involved in teaching Jack to fight, rather than helping hunters with lore and swigging whiskey.
I'd assume given the lack of availability in his AU, he's considerably less alcohol dependant, so this is a very different character thing. If Bobby were doing this training, and nothing else was different, he'd be taking a breather to pour them both a whiskey as he imparts wisdom.
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Demon in nice shoes and dark sunglasses at night to indicate that yes I am a demon I have black eyes :P I assume this is a demon anyway not just because of this detail but pre-season spoilers
-
Ah hearing Cas's name is enough to make my heart pick up. MY GUY!
But then, "Castiel, darling"
Stop trying to make Good Omens happen, it's not going to happen. You can't just "darling" up to an angel and expect that good good romance. Crowley took years to wear Cas down and Cas never actually LIKED him, down to their last real interaction where Cas was just "WTF???? LEAVE ME TO ROT AND DIE" when Crowley saved him in 12x12
-
God I miss that
-
"Oh god."
Same, buddy.
You do, however, realise this is your first words of the season gifset line, though?
Someone ought to write to Dabb and inform him that people make first and last word gifsets and to be more careful.
Especially if in the last episode at the end of the season, Cas's last word is "Dean"
-
Anyway Cas has said 1 line and I can tell he's on top form. Unlike 10x01 he's in a hipster hogroast joint.
-
This demon, with dark black sunglasses inside at night (douchebag) just ordered a coffee, black. WE GET IT, ENOBY DEMENTIA DARKNESS RAVEN WAY, YOU ARE GOFFIC AND IT'S AS BLACK AS YOUR SOUL
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LOL Cas is sitting under the JACK'S sign.
Demon douche sits under Schultz, which is the death beer. And lemme tell you, TJW is well-versed in this. So well-versed in it he's sat Cas in front of a classic El Sol flyer with the subtle touch required to tell Dean that Cas is his dream girl. He knows his shit.
-
This seriously seems to be implying that the rise of hipster food joints is an effort from Hell to spread chaos on earth
-
Cas sitting with his back to the fire is such an interesting visual, but this is just a note to self for later to guess what it all means
-
THIS FUCKIN DEMON TOOK HIS BLACK SUNGLASSES OFF TO SHOW OFF HIS BLACK EYES
Dabb is so good at incidental characters, and making me hate this guy for nuanced nonsensical reasons is amazing. This is... art...
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This is a callback to 5x08 and Dean ranting about hating procedural cop shows then him and sam taking their sunglasses on and off at night every time they made a pun and I'm 100% convinced since 12x01 and Cas busting through that Mystery Spot sign that Gabriel has been subtly influencing events
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Okay so we know exactly what is written on demon bathroom walls. I'm taking that as a sideways confirmation that Cain knew full well that Dean had his Colette because he'd seen crude doodles of them doing it
Anyway douchedemon just outright told Cas that all the demons assume he and Dean in particular are banging. Not that Cas bangs Winchesters, as some have implied, without knowing all the details. They've narrowed this info down.
I assume this is also in the Winchester Dossier that Barthamus studied from before meeting them. I love that demons probably do have a filing cabinet somewhere of all the notable assholes they run into in their work, and the Winchesters take up a whole cabinent, but the refresher file summarising them in a paragraph if you don't have time is like, Sam: Lazy boyking, will stab you. Dean: fucking Castiel, will stab you.
-
Cas doesn't even move an eyebrow. Incredible.
-
Cas rarely gets hit with these compared to Dean in the history of the show, and Dean is full of bluster or anger or confusion or alarmed eyebrows. Cas is like... no. fuck you. i'm party!Cas, I have my shit in order.
Though this is from a demon. It's an entirely different thing when Heaven is involved, as they also have their dossier on the winchesters.
Sam: abomination. will banish you. Dean: fucking Castiel. Will stab you.
-
*loud coffee slurp* "what's in it for moi?
Cas, stab him. Stab him now. This is not worth the information. You can find another guy.
-
I'm starting to think Cas with his back to the flames is his unwitting danger from this hellish hogroast place.
-
They use Shultz beer containers to hold the sauces and menus on the table. DEEEEATH
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Cas speaking slower and threatening to burn him to ash "right here and right now"
this is a gifset that will get a lot of notes from thirsty Cas fans
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Whaaaaaaaa the entire joint turned out to be owned by and filled with demons who would ever have guessed based on one open fire and that metal hogs head from the promo pics :P
-
Stop hurting him!!!! Misha can't stage fight! This is really unfair!!
I wonder how the poor new awesome fight coordinator took to Misha
"let's just... um..."
"hide him behind all these demons?" TJW suggests
The fight guy nods sadly.
-
Aww Sister Jo got back to work. Good for her.
-
Sister Jo has no fear and can stroll down a shady alley counting her money
*t-shirt meme* One fear: *flappy wing noises*
"Hey Jo."
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GHOLY SHIT TRUE FORMS TYHUEOJDSHGFSH DS TRUE FORMS WE SEE WHAT ANGELS SEEE OH MY GOD OH MY GOD SCIENCE HAS CAUGH T UP TO THE DIVINE, SPN CAN FINALL Y SHOW US WHAT ANGELS SEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
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Holy shit I want the gif of this as my blog header. That's shitting amazing.
-
Burning HALO
ALL HIS CHI POINTS LIT UP EVEN WHEN IT MAKES IT LOOK SILLY TO HAVE HIS CALVES GLOWING
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I wonder if this is what Danneel sees when she looks at Jensen all the time
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"Why would he say yes to you?"
"Love"
I'm dying and I am dead. I gather that Dean is 100% absent from this episode, but that one comment puts him front and centre and I am in paaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaain. Everything happening around Michael and because of Michael is because Dean loves his peeps. From Sam staying up hacking traffic cams on vampires to Cas getting his ass handed to him by demons.
-
I bet Cas looks like that single glowstick he had on in the cave when angels look at him.
-
Party!Cas
-
I ruined the fun
-
Jensen gently touches Danneel's face and that's just rude because that's all his tenderness for his wife being turned into a scary villain move between Deanchael and Jo. Don't do this to them!!!
-
Oooof Deanchael pulls from Dean's memory of Anael about what she was like, describing her in the most Cas-like terms, then cuts through her hilarious bull about wanting handbags (this is so meta about sticking middle fingers in the faces of people who think she's a well-paid beard) and then starts telling her she wants love and a family.
Deanchael has used the word "love" twice in a scene and it's horrifying to see the word come out of his face, when Dean is so guarded. Now Deanchael is just looking through Sister Jo and analysing what she wants - and she's playing this game very well but this move of his might still beat her. Because ow. Telling her she wants belonging and family. When she's very much established as a Cas mirror by the reminder she ran away from Heaven and doesn't want to play by their rules.
"It's very, very human of you. And so disappointing." Did all those times Lucifer sucked her grace bring her close to feeling it? To the point of permanent damage? I only ask because I know another guy this might apply to.
-
I wonder how much Deanchael is projecting based on conjectures because he knows Cas through Dean's eyes.
-
"But if they're all these sad, lost, fallen things..." Ya, that's Cas too for suresies
-
SAM AND JACK SAM AND JACK
Jack sitting quietly in meditation, clearly unsettled. A parallel to 13x23 when Dean came rushing in to him having a nightmare, now Sam is having a crack at parenting the boy.
-
Jack lying about how things were fine. Nougat. Hon. You're human now. But not that good at being human. Sam knows your tells :P
-
Sam interrupted mid pep-talk by Mary with some nonsense.
Jack is always so ugh... accepting and kinda flippant. He knows parental figures can be disappointing and get dragged away mid peptalk by some business.
Which he's apparently not involved in. I guess after we see him going on hunts with them in 13x23, he's grounded until he goes through basic training so not only is he useless to help with his powers to find Dean, but he can't even do the easy hunter stuff because he's just a kid.
-
Aww my poor baby Nougat :( He's so angsty. He's a TEEN. Lookit him! All growed up!
-
Uuugh I guess this is Nick. "I didn't talk to him. I can barely look at him."
What I'm getting from this sequence mainly is the sound of Triss's rage at the Bunker layout.
-
*Mary pats Sam's shoulder supportively and walks off*
You're on your own, Chief.
-
Ugh I am not ready for this bull if it's Nick but I have to keep watching to be sure :P
-
Ew it is. EW. What does Mark P HAVE on you all.
At least TJW is shooting the heck out of this to show us how gross Sam finds this all.
Sam's shadow falling over Nick.
I really want to know how this bullshit happened. And yet. No, not really.
-
Oh gross AND they're making Mark P take off his shirt. The nipple I didn't want to see in the Road So Far was not warning enough.
Pre-season ugh speculation was that whatever Crowley did to Nick made him stronger and more permanent apparently even than Lucifer being stabbed out of him.
-
So yeah anyway I guess Jack is in part also sulking about this and I'm with him, because Sam being pulled away from their pep talk time to deal with Gross Man Associated With My Father But Not Actually Him Because Biologically I Am The Son Of A Non-Historical President...
-
Making Sam the one who has to care for Nick is utterly cruel. He has so many deputies. Maybe this is just his personal fear that Nick's still a bit Lucifery. Maybe he just sees this as a gross burden, a manifestation of the ongoing trauma from Lucifer, that even when he's dead he lingers.
-
Plus, it's giving us some reassurance that an angel can be ousted from a vessel without killing them, to throw some options into the Deanchael pot.
-
Still. Nick. Really.
-
I bet Jack is sulking because some little cosmic part of him regenerating deep down in his core, that one lil gold glowy chi point in his big toe, knows that Eugenie forgot his name at SDCC and called him "Nick" and this shit from your creator just weighs on you. Jack is an entity beyond Buckleming and yet born from them, and this is what they beget: forgetting their own child in favour of this old carcass.
-
bitter? moi? *sips coffee noisily*
-
Actually, that's not true but I need some tea because I'm sulky so I'm taking this ragebreak to go make some and then I will sip it noisily in Nick's direction. :P
-
Everything henceforth is under the jurisdiction of hot drink no.2
-
"I don't understand how Lucifer could die and I could live"
I hate you
Eurgh, I bet you anything Dabb pulled a Buckleming and just took the post-it note they gave him when he asked, er, HOW does this happen? and transliterated it into dialogue because 1: all the writers shade Buckleming all the time because I can literally see it ooze out of Perez and Yockey and Bobo's writing but this is the showrunner, guyses. 2: it's such a dumbass convoluted explanation that it only burns out the archangel but if you non-fatally stab it then the guy is fine.
Which begs the question of how the fuck is Gabriel because if we get anything good from this, that fucker is in one hell of an interesting vessel situation compared to Old Nick.
-
PS: I am not sure how culturally saturated this is so we are all clear that Old Nick is a historically used name for Satan and his name has been a joke since 5x01 thanks to Kripke, and now we have to actually deal with that.
-
And then Nick is actually sympathetic to how Sam feels looking at him. I guess Mark P really wants us to feel sympathetic to his new dude.
-
"And Michael... did he tell Lucifer anything about his plan?"
Listen, we NEED acknowledgement that for a month or so Lucifer and AUMichael roadtripped together to assemble from their AU the key of solomon, the fruit of the tree of life, and the blood of a most holy man.
There was a lengthy downtime while people settled in and Dean was allowed to think the Good Times were rolling, and all that time, the weirdest brother roadtrip show ever was going on in the AU, mad enough that I would actually find it hilarious to watch despite enduring Mark P as a result of it.
-
SAM DOES NOT DESERVE THIS
He's not allowed to rest, ever.
-
I bet this is douchdemon phoning him from Cas's phone.
-
"Hello Sam!" says a perky voice down the phone. It's INCREDIBLE how unlikeable this demon is making himself. He's actually my favourite character now.
-
Oh no, Nougat is wearing a different grey shirt. He's really depressed. Someone help him.
-
"He just told you he was a demon?"
"he seemed proud of it too"
Sam hates him as well. I can't wait for Sam to come scowl at him.
-
"What do we do?" Maggie asks, completely wide-eyed. Oh honey. Poor, innocent, sheltered Maggie. What were you doing all apocalypse until we caught up with you? You aren't hardened, you're adorable.
-
AUBobby and Rufus (his gun)
-
"I'm coming too!" YAY JACK. Your father is in trouble, he's on a hunting trip and he hasn't been home in a few days, but what a different world all the rest is
-
"I'm not as strong, but I can help," he says, looking tiny beside Sam, bruised up from AUBobby's training, a single layer to make him look even smaller...
(we do not talk enough about how all these jackets are a sort of alpha being shoulder plumping thing like when you make yourself look huge to scare off a mountain lion but that's 100% what this is)
IT MADE JACK SMILE yey he's allowed to feel useful! Pop is allowing him to go on a mission to rescue Dad who was looking for Papa when this all went down.
Grandpapa is not so pleased, because AUBobby has been measuring how useful Jack is and I feel like lil Nougat bab is going to do something mildly heroic for Cas or else get pasted for his ongoing character development for the season...
-
"He needs this, Bobby."
-
Dear LORD does he not quit? We don't even know his name? "Are you sure I can't get you anything... hot... or black?" FUck OFF
No wonder by the promo pic Cas looked so utterly done. This is exhaustingly annoying for him. Cas's personal hell is just irritating people. A line of Crowleys and Lucifers and this jerkwad chattering at him.
-
And yet Dean runs his mouth all the time and Cas is in luuuurve
-
Oh lordy are we really doing this coffee metaphor now? "Coffee has no effect on me" (but he once acquired the taste, and it was a core part of him being human and learning to human in the opening shot of 9x06 for him as his metaphor for how he was learning)
"me either *sluuuurp* not any more. But it's like saltwater taffy or infants. I just like the taste."
-
"I'm just being a good host like mother would have wanted"
Cas stops mid eyeroll to eyeroll HARDER at meeting ANOTHER demon with mommy issues. Like, please. Don't. I like Rowena now but can we NOT.
-
Party!Cas of Dabb era is my favourite iteration of Cas by a country mile.
-
"Why are you using me as bait?"
"it's kind of what you're for"
Oh Cas. Now he's just the damsel in distress, which I guess is a step up from being an attack dog, but still isn't that great for the ego stroking about his role and use within the Winchester family, an ongoing source of stress for him, this reminds us.
-
Cas's faith in Sam is wonderful. like, as soon as douchmon says he needs something from Sam, Cas just SMIRKS like, OH BUDDY. BUDDDYYY. No, I'm not gonna say it. I'm just - "you think he'd make a deal with you?" I'm ... I don't laugh as a rule but inside? Hilarious.
-
"Somebody asked me what it was that I wanted" You know, I think Deanchael is INCITING people. he's not killing any of them, just using the revelation of his appearance to motivate them - moving Sister Jo to do what she wants, which is to re-organise Heaven with the ideas she had as a button pushing functionary... visiting world leaders and holy men, and this douche...
To what end, though? Chaos? This is a roundabout way to make a better world.
-
"Destroying, Drinking, Defiling, you know, the 3 Ds" they absolutely have posters up in Hell with this on for the newbies to learn.
-
We've seen Heaven's staffroom, I DEMAND to see the break room in Hell, with all its lurid Destiel smut doodled on the walls and so on
-
Anyway it's a hell of a question, pun intended, because demons have no real purpose, even the named baddies have largely been slaves to someone else's will (Lucifer or Crowley) and Crowley could not have answered that question from the start of season 6 through to the moment he chose to sacrifice himself... I don't think any of TFW 2.0 or Bunker Squad could answer it fully. Cas can't, and that's the question that's been bugging him since 9x06 -
EPHRAIM
Shh-shh-shhh. It'll be over soon. I'll take the pain away.
CASTIEL
I want to live.
EPHRAIM
But as what, Castiel? As an angel? or a man?
and it's what his entire crisis in season 10 was over... Who ARE you Castiel? What do you WANT?
-
Dean wants a Beach Vacation Ending. He figured it out and as narrative punishment, he's Deanchael. No one else has sorted it out, though, but Sam got close - he had his pizza dream and was immediately punished with being eaten by vampires and resurrected by Lucifer and all that drama... Sam's work isn't done. Though his growth has taken a huge leap, now he has to figure out what he wants in this NEW setting, and we're only just MEETING Chief Sam in this iteration, so he's got a lot of work to do.
-
"I gave it a good think and I worked out exactly what I wanted. Everything."
Deanchael definitely is planning for this, so watch out buddy.
-
SAM DRIVING, MOM IN SHOTGUN
RED ALERT
-
Uhoh Sam's snapped because of the optimism Mary exudes. Yep, he really was nearly at the last straw in their earlier convo when he scoffed at her attempts to cheer him up.
Look, she's trying to mom you with no experience except adopting Jack. Work with her.
-
Sam is spiralling with the depression, this time all the bad things that could have happened to Dean and how they're never going to find him, throwing these horrible scenarios at Mary to stop her trying to comfort him.
-
"I know. I know he's out there, scared and alone." She sees lil 4 year old Dean. Because, I mean, that is the soul Dean bears to her when they have moments sometimes. And her optimism is a wall against thinking of her toddler in this scenario.
"I know. I know he might not come back. Never think I don't know that. But I can't - I have to think about the good, Sam. Because if I don't, I will drown in the bad." I wonder who that directly relates to who is currently driving this car.
I really hope this is a bit of vindication for Mary - or redemption to the eyes of the people who don't like her - that she does care, and she's spelling out her approach to all this. In the start of season 12 when she was trying to keep afloat she used a lot of optimism and furious paddling on the surface, because she has been doing that her whole life. When she was being raised a hunter, when she was a housewife with no clue what she was doing, a mom but he marriage beginning to fall apart... And then thrust into the present day, and it's 360 degrees of combat and loss and sadness and a ill-advised hook up with Ketch... Furious doggy paddling on the surface.
"For Dean's sake, I can't do that. We can't do that." And she shows that she is prioritising Dean, that she's driven and motivated to keep going FOR him.
Come on, give her a chance.
-
Nyooom.
-
Meanwhile in the Jack and Bobby truck, Jack is the one angsting and Bobby is the one driving.
Jack is one years old and not legally old enough to drive.
-
Bobby peptalks him with the reminder that when Jack had his grace he did hero things for these people, which is why he can ride shotgun, and even if he feels useless now, they'll have his back, that he has earned this squad even if he can't be as awesome as he used to.
-
Maggie is like, I'm getting a reaction shot... Am I going to develop feelings for Jack? That would be super weird, he's one years old. I hope no one is implying this even though I'm in a bunch of scenes getting character focus.
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Eeeeeeee Sam trusts Mary with the demon killing knife. I am sure they don't call it Ruby's knife to her and he has never, ever told her about that time that thing happened with Ruby.
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This fucker had his back turned for Sam to enter just so he could turn around dramatically. God he's repellent.
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An extra was hired to pat Sam down. What a job.
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"The shoulders. The hair! You are my Beyonce!" I mean, same. Except. Cas is Agent Beyonce so this fuckhead has totally misread this situation.
This gives Sam a moment to look over at Cas and Cas silently says, yes I know he's a total fuckhead, I've been dealing with this all day. I'm so sorry bro, can you just stab him so we can go home and follow a different lead. I don't even care what this one knows, I can't handle him another minute.
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"I'm more embarrassed than I am hurt" I understand this to my core, and I'm so sorry, Cas.
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"Kipling. Kip for short."
"Cool. Kip. I'm here." Sam being exactly as "fuck you" as I wanted towards Kip.
Sam is now standing with his head in an El Sol sign. TJW what are you up to bud?
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Oh no Jack and Maggie got caught skulking. Sam and Cas have the same "my boy!" reaction when they see Cas.
Maggie is here too, you monsters.
But Kip has missed Mary and AUBobby
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"It's just late capitalism, you understand" Yeah, and fuck you Kip.
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How is Kip so irritating that he can make tapping a stool somehow the most obnoxious thing a man could do? He's WONDERFULLY well-cast. I love this actor. He's chewing scenery and it's incredible.
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"What do you want?" Ow, Sam being twisted into asking the same thing Deanchael asked Kip
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"Ass-modeus Kentucky Fried" listen you are still the worst but that drew a sympathetic smile and I hate it and I hate you.
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Oh, Sam just Sammed something from that side glance, random demon side-eye. Oooh. Oooooooh.
But yeah, Kip asking for the "Crowley Deal" as if it's a package that can be bought from the Winchesters, and not something that Crowley wormed his way into via much back and forth power plays and drama. The Winchester have always had a back and forth with Hell, and since Crowley there have been a lot of demons, like Bart, trying to figure out what exactly it WAS that they all had. But someone has to be in charge, and the Winchesters are the top dog destined hunters with their fingers in all the world-saving pies, so clashes come naturally. Approaching them like this, first Bart, now this douchenozzle, is meta, presumptuous, overstepping what builds naturally... An attempt to leapfrog to the end where the equilibrium is established.
But Crowley had time to build a long game. These new pretenders are working in a world where the Winchesters' actions have devastated Heaven and Hell alike, and are, like Mary, just trying to keep afloat on the whole thing.
"We never gave Crowley that deal." Because yes, that's how it seemed to play out, and from outsider eyes that's how it may have looked... But each and every interaction came about naturally through the plot, there was no wrangling it. That's just how the Winchesters and Crowley ended up.
And that hole can't be filled by someone just leaping into the chair and asking for it.
Though it is nice if Motown Meats is the new seat of Hell on Earth instead of the outdated exterior asylum interior castle dungeon look Crowley set up.
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"You're no Crowley. I know that. So do they." I think that was what Sam Sammed out of the demons, and also true, and ALSO is this the boyking accidentally exerting himself, knowing what's good for Hell? I always get a lil tingle in my thumbs when Sam gets too involved in knowing what's up with Hell.
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Holy shit Kipling was a Mongolian warlord who rode with Genghis Khan in life. PLEASE survive this episode, I want to hate you all season. PLEAAAASE I BEG YOU.
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Oh my god this insecure whinging asshole, chowing down on the scenery like there's no tomorrow. "I'D EAT YOUR HEART" *turns to weepy and quiet* "before I show you who I really am..."
This is Eddie Redmayne in Jupiter Ascending levels of scenery eating. He's gonna pick up a barstool and take a bite out of it now.
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Sam is doing this all unarmed, which is something to remember, because this is the fucker who talked his way into killing the Alpha Vamp while MOSTLY unarmed for a majority of that chat.
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Sam Fucking Winchester.
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AUBOBBY AND RUFUS!!!!
Also mary.
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But AUBobby gets a slow mo for Rufus shooting demons.
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HOLY SHIT MARY'S SLOW MO
I am pregnant
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MARY THROWING SAM THE KNIFE
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TJW was like this fight is too fast, my guy. We need to slow it down. You're so good at your job no one's gonna see what happened unless we go slow mo.
he and the fight guy high five
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"Aw, balls."
Hey, Nougat tried. He's got a squishy hero centre.
Looks like he weighs nothing and now he's human he goes down in one punch. Owie.
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"Here take this. You know how to use it?"
"Uh! Stab them with the pointy end!?"
"pretty much"
Maggie you precious girl why are you HERE. Why is Soups On or Gnarly Gun Guy not here?
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Cas you fucking damsel in distress
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Fight guy is like "uuuuh do I have to"
Misha is like "I'm good here, tbh"
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SAM FUCKING WINCHESTER
(Aw, Kip's dead, he was fun)
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"ENOUGH"
YES SIR
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"There will be NO NEW KING OF HELL"
You are gonna get demon minions like fucking ducklings you ass
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"Not ever. And if anyone wants the job, you can come through me" Sam is technically immortal so long as Rowena is alive and vice versa you know. Also, how long is he planning on defending Hell? Ever?
I'm stalling from how much I have to scream about how badass Sam was throwing down that declaration that he's now essentially the trial a pretender to the throne has to pass to take the job.
Because if I was a demon... FUCK NO would I want to tangle with this fucker.
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Sam's file, updated: Current King Of Hell. Will Kill You. AVOID.
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Sam is fucking terrifying. I love it. He scared demons out of their meatsuits. Sam walking into a room is now a reason to eject and abort mission. God. This guy.
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Remember in season 1 when demons were scary? Oo er this isn't our sort of thing... halp.
Now Sam looks them in the eye and is like, fuck off. I'm scarier than any of you.
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"That's what I thought"
Cas is literally giving you the reverse look of in 4x16 when you marched in and fried Alastair's brain.
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SAM GOT A NEW SHIRT thank god.
I should amend: he did all this wearing blue plaid with orange stripes.
Sam Fucking Winchester.
The BMoL definitely didn't have the right birth certificate because that's his legal middle name.
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Sam n Caaaaas my GUYS. I hope this is the 10x01 convo but, like, not. Flip flip flip those pancakes, Dabb my guy.
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Cas, hon, you're still so beat up you have blood trails coming out of your nose. There's not really caring about your meatsuit because it heals eventually, but there's also washing your fucking face, because Sam's had time to change his shirt and get a beer so what were you doing?
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Probably staring at a picture of Dean on his phone and sighing.
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Anyway he's here to ask how Sam is, rather than care about himself. Symbolism.
"I've been better. And worse." Worse is 10x01.
Or 4x10's flashbacks. For sure those are the worstest.
Though, this time you are the king of hell and you're wearing a dark shirt and I don't think you have thought this through.
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The most well-meaning accidental king of hell ever.
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Sam and Cas share the "to find Dean I'd do anything" look. Be CAREFUL. Cas is literally choosing to wear hubris on his face because he feels bad about his fuck up with going to Kip.
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Mary! Casual Mary chilling in the kitchen!!
Although, with everyone in the bunker, these rooms are taking on different meanings. The people are chasing out the heavy shadows and ghosts of all the oppressive silences Sam and Dean have filled these corners with.
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Aw it's Mary and AUBobby. I was half-hoping we'd have her giving beer to Jack, but I guess we need to set up the forward momentum on their relationship for this season.
"Not bad today, old man." "you too, Sunshine."
You do realise that Mary is sitting in the exact same spot as where Dean was when he called Cas "Sunshine" You do know that right I mean you KNOW? This is TJW, he knows. He's a Destiel Shipper of the highest order.
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Cas pops in on Jack, staring at his busted up face in a mirror, now filling more Winchester angst tropes to make up for lost time.
"I'm fine," he says without being asked. Because 10x01 or 10x02 was where Cas defined "fine" for Hannah and explained to her it's what humans say when things are really not fine but they can't admit it.
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"You did well."
"All I did was get punched. In the face."
I love snarky teen Jack.
"To be fair, we all got punched in the face," Cas says, still covered in hubris.
He has a POINT. He has full right to pull the "I should feel more useless than you" card on Jack.
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Jack doing the "i'm useless" thing that Cas had to go through when he lost his grace, and Jack was allowed to stay in the Bunker. Is this how Cas would have felt had he not been kicked out?
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Jack says Michael's out there and he still feels responsible to stop him. There's a very, very very very ver very weird Hamlet vibe from Jack, being forced into a position of emotional responsibility to kill his uncle, but Cas is his once dead now back and not a ghost father, and Jack couldn't kill Michael and so Dean got possessed... I mean, it's not a neat overlay, but Jack wants to kill an uncle, an AUncle, and I feel like in terms of uncle-killing narratives, AU Michael making off with Dean fits about as well to Hamlet's uncle marrying his mom as we're gonna get... I'd love to see how this shapes out because these family narratives since season 11 are becoming deeply shakespearean in the amount of nonsense going on. This sort of supernatural drama is a modern world way to have this kind of heightened emotion and the stakes you find in Shakespearean tragedies, and to force the sorts of reflection on the world and self... I really really dig it. Watching season 13 yesterday really hit me with this feeling all over and I'm delighted that Jack has this arc because I'm so amused/interested to see where this weirdo Hamlet parallel goes for him.
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"I don't have anything."
"Oh Jack" thanks Cas that's what I said out loud "you have me. You have all of us. You have your family." *SHOULDER GRASP*
No hug. Fuck off Cas, with your reassuring shoulder grasps. I know that's the language you've been taught but Dabb era is hug era and you suck.
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I love that with all of Sam and Mary's doubt and Jack's lack of self worth, it's down to CAS. CASTIEL. CASTIEL WINCHESTER. CASTIEL FUCKING WINCHESTER. PARTY!CAS. to give the actual pep talk of the episode which has ANY conviction behind it. Cas has been fuelled with something MAGNIFICENT since the Empty, and he's turned it up to 11 for Jack here :')
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Jack makes the smallest smile, then turns back to his mirror.
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Sam opening the door to his bedroom, framed in darkness. 10x01 parallels again - this shot as well as the demon dean one were repeated a few times through the 3 episode arc, and the demon dean one became iconic but Sam did it too, to Dean's room. Now he goes into his own... empties his pockets... he still has the fucking engraved money clip from Tall Tales because Gabriel is not only not dead but telling this entire story for us... He has the phone, that's off, because Dean is not there, not communicating with him, blah blah. And he has the keys to the Impala. Because he's the chief.
Well, the King of Hell. Damn, it took 14 years to get him there. Azazel is fucking spinning in his grave.
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Ooh, phonecall! Is it Deanchael? "What do you want?"
Nope, it's Sister Jo! :D She's been standing there ALL NIGHT weighing her options and working out what she wants.
SPIN THAT CHAOS, DEANCHAEL.
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Deanchael approaches a vampire, and it's that purity of Purgatory, that just wanna eat that fuelled so much of the badass stuff in season 7 with the Leviathan, everything Dean's struggled with when it comes to the black and white world of killing monsters no problem that dates back to Gordon in 2x03, that draws Deanchael to them. Because this is Dean's safe space with Benny, a real relationship based on a bond forged in pure, kill or be killed, eat or be eaten purgatory. Deanchael has the same inner machinery as Dean, because Michael is the worst version of Dean, engineered to be Dean but without love. Dean as a monster. And so it all leads here... D:
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Well this will be fun :D
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Tagging Game
tagged by @sdewan6 (thank youuuuuuu:))
Rules: answer 21 questions and then tag 21 people who you want to get to know better. (bold of you to assume i know 21 people)
Nicknames: Luce, Loops, Loopy, Lucifer, Satan (i’m not evil, my name just means the same as Lucifer sooooo ye)
Zodiac: Capricorn
Height: 5′ 10″
Last movie I saw: I can’t tell you the last film i actually put on and sat down to watch cos i can’t remember lmao, but there was a film that came on after something i was watching the other day called the maiden heist(?) i think??? it had william h macy, morgan freeman and christopher walken and they were all like horny for art it was weird but yeah that happened
Last thing I googled: okay no this is too funny so i just googled the exact definition of bigot cos i needed it and this is what came up
I died
(apparently it only comes up if you accidentally type ‘bigoty’ definition which i may or may not have done lmao but nonetheless, trump is the definition according to google and i, personally, 110% agree)
Favorite Musician: Tonight Alive is my all time fav band but classical wise it’s my main man Shosty
Song stuck in my head: heaven by bryan adams cos i've used it in the fic i’m writing and you can bet your arse it’s for a sad reason (i love my harringrove boys, i do, but this fic is currently 20k words of heartbreak and i’m not sorry, pls love me)
Other blogs: i have one but i barely ever use it and it’s just filled with sad shit tbh, i only ever use it when i’m mentally in a v bad place and tbh it probably doesn’t help but LOL oh well, queen of self destruction me
Do I get asks: occasionally and i treasure each and every single one like a dog does its human
Following: 1958 lmao
Amount of sleep: 6 hours on a weekday probably but like maybe 8 on the weekend providing my mental health is okay™, if not then like 4 maybe
Lucky Number: 10
What I’m wearing: grey ripped jeans, a black t shirt and my school leavers hoodie
Dream job: can i get paid to write fanfic for a living? I do that whilst i’m at work now lmao. But seriously, classical flautist in a classical orchestra would be my ultimate dream yet i currently work in tv go figure (i did previously want to be an editor but since having this job and being able to do some of the edit, i have realised that mentally i cannot cope with 12 hour days stuck looking at a screen in the same bleak office with strict deadlines and arsehole supervisors so yeah, tv is fun and all, i like the fact that you’re not bound to the same people forever and there are some lovely people in the industry, the hours make you go mad granted but i get to drive the actors around and stuff in my current job and they are lovely, but i need something more creative and freeing and yeah, i like my job, i really do, but i think mentally it is having a negative impact on me and that isn’t great™) music has always been the one thing i fall back to and never really leave though so if i can’t get paid to write fanfic for a living then i guess i’ll have to go with that lmao (jks, music is my life i can’t live without it, i need to work in music to stay somewhat sane)
Dream trip: travelling round Scandinavia because it’s all so pretty and also maybe a visit to Ōkunoshima island becuase so. many. BUNNIES.
Favorite Food: any and all fruit, mainly strawberries, kiwis and pears though like omG they are a blessing but yes give me fruit all day every day
Do you play any instruments?: i play the flute mainly and i love it with my whole heart, but i can also play piano, sing and dabble on violin and guitar
Languages: I speak English fluently, but i know a bit of Italian, very basic Norwegian and i studied Spanish for like 4 years so i think i’d probably know a bit if i tried lmao (my teacher was s h i t)
Favourite songs: Power of One by Tonight Alive is like an all time fav of mine and 'Non Mi Avete Fatto Niente' by Ermal Meta&Fabrizio Moro has a very firm forever place in my heart but i’m currently obsessed with ‘Dance Like Nobody’s Watching’ - Saara Aalto, ‘Go Beyond’ - Rasmussen, ‘Чудова Мить’ - Mélovin, Candlelight - Jack Savoretti, La Venda - Miki Nuñez and Freaks - Jordan Clarke because i’m still in denial about our entry (i am severe eurovision trash if that wasn’t obvious lmao) but there are so many i love and like it depends what mood i’m in, they can all be my fav in that moment but you’ve caught me on a good day so you get the happy ones, not the really sad and depressing ones that would make everyone severely worry about my mental health lmao
Random Fact: i have metal plates in both of my knees cos i used to be a wonky bitch
Describe yourself as aesthetic things: a long drive through the night, warm enough to have the windows down but not too warm it’s uncomfortable, you’re favourite album is on repeat, the sky so clear you can see each and every star lighting your way, feeling so relaxed, there isn’t a single thing bothering you or making the moment seem less than what it is, it’s just seconds, minutes, hours of unwavering, blissful, happiness, it doesn’t solve your problems, but it makes you feel the best you’ve felt in a while. (whelp that got out of hand, but my god do that if you never have, it is so f r e e i n g)
Tagging: @billyscamar0 @harringtons-bf @billnsteve @absolutedad @call-me-haley @uncle-keery @bananase221 @pretty-pendragon @spacegaiys and literally anyone else out there who wants to do it, i tag you all
feel free to ignore, i won’t take it personally lmao
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For the anon who asked for a trio of Azrael & Lucifer kisses: here’s the first. I have ideas for the others, too. <3 In which Tara makes herself crazy with skewed celestial timelines and naming choices.
A kiss as encouragement.
With Dad forever tinkering on his creations—evidently something had gone terribly wrong with the giant lizard bird creatures and He wasn’t terribly pleased—and Mum growing colder and more distant by the hour, Lucifer had rather thought his parents finished with creating children of their own. Whatever desires had resulted in a little sister, he could understand none of them. Which was saying something.
Yet, one day, there she was, all big eyes and round cheeks, with wings she didn’t know how to use, and no sense of the endless games her siblings had been playing with each other since Creation. Uriel liked that she was smaller than he; Lucifer saw that at once.
Perhaps because Uriel was also small, their new sister approached him first.
In the past, his brother had used that divine facility with patterns to try and twist his siblings into knots, but they were too used to it now for the tactic to be effective. Whatever he said made the newest angel take a few stumbling steps back, and since she hadn’t learned to keep her wings out of the way, she tripped over them and sprawled. Any of their other siblings would have jumped up again at once, ready to show Uriel with fists the consequences of his devious words, but this newest angel only remained where she was, crumpled like an abandoned toy while Uriel smirked above her.
It wouldn’t do. It wouldn’t do at all.
Before Uriel could open his mouth again—doubtless to drive daggers of dark possibilities deeper, giving rise to that most insidious of his talents: self-fulfilling prophecy—Lucifer extended his wings sharply enough to give rise to a gust of wind; the effect was unnecessary, of course. Uriel flinched at merely the sound.
“You may go, Uriel,” Lucifer said, as if Uriel had a choice when they both knew he didn’t. For an instant, Lucifer thought his brother might protest, might try to swing a fist or a word, but he only whipped around, snapped his wings—pathetic, really—and vanished.
To his newest sister, Lucifer extended a hand. She eyed it warily for a moment before tentatively closing her fingers around his. It took very little effort to haul her to her feet. “Don’t mind Uriel,” he said. “He’s an arse. Likes hearing himself talk.”
“He said I don’t have a purpose.”
“Doubt that,” Lucifer said. “Dad’s pretty single-minded about that kind of thing. He gave you a name?”
“Azrael,” she said, feeling out the sounds. “Yes. It’s Azrael. I’m Azrael.”
“Help of God? Lovely. Terribly specific.”
Azrael’s eyes filled with tears. “I’m sorry.”
“No, no, none of that,” Lucifer insisted. He dabbed at her damp cheeks with the sleeve of his robe. “Darling, we’re going to need to learn sarcasm straight away.”
Her face scrunched up strangely before she blurted, “Which of my siblings are you?”
“Lucifer.”
She tilted her head, brows furrowing. “No ‘of God’?”
Lucifer sighed. “Yes, fine. I suppose Dad’s name for me is Samael. I’m… not overly fond. Mum’s is nicer. Think they might’ve had a row about it.” He shrugged as if this didn’t bother him. “Suspect He’ll smite me if it really bothers Him. Hasn’t happened yet.”
“You… choose?”
Not for the first time, the little spark of frustration that constantly burned in his gut like banked coals fanned into a belly full of fire. “We are not slaves.”
Turning away, ready to take himself to one of the half-forgotten corners of the Silver City he retreated to when he needed to pretend he was somehow free from his Father’s suffocating influence, Lucifer was stopped by Azrael’s small fingers clutching at him.
“What’s your purpose?” she asked. Hopefully. Desperately. “Do you know it?”
Lucifer wanted to snap, to snarl, to mutter something about being more than the butt of some jest of his Father’s, but Azrael wasn’t Amenadiel. She wasn’t Uriel or Gabriel or Raphael. She certainly wasn’t holier-than-thou Michael. “Something rather useless, if you must know. Perhaps He’s going a bit soft, for all that.”
“Or He’ll tell us when He’s ready?”
“Or that,” Lucifer said. His wings itched to take him away. He’d been too long at home, this time. It chafed. Still, he settled his hands on Azrael’s slight shoulders and dropped a kiss like a benediction on the top of her head. “I daresay you’ll figure it out in time, darling, but until then don’t let any of those feathered arseholes mess you about. You’ve as much right to be here as any of them.”
He drew back just in time to see her face fall. “You’re leaving?”
Because he didn’t lie and didn’t want to color her first experiences with his dissatisfaction, he only extended his wings and said, “I am.”
“Okay. Well.” She paused, a slight smile playing at the corners of her lips. “Smell you later, Lucifer.”
Mid-flap, Lucifer stopped and staggered at the sudden loss of lift. “Did you—pardon me, did you just say, ‘Smell you later’?”
“I did!” Azrael grinned wide enough to show the dimple high in her right cheek. “I chose it. Just now.”
“Not what I’d have gone with, but points for being something Amenadiel will hate.” Rolling his eyes, Lucifer extended his hand for a second time. “Right then. Are you coming? Now’s as good a time as any to learn how to use those wings. Not just for show, are they?”
Had any of his siblings ever looked at him with such openness, such blind trust?
It was bloody terrifying.
“And sarcasm?” she prompted.
“And sarcasm,” he agreed. “Definitely sarcasm.”
#lucifer#lucifer morningstar#azrael#lucifer fic#anyway i have a lot of feelings about siblings#i guess spoilers if you haven't seen 3x25#my fic#fanfiction#50 kisses prompts#memery#asks and answers#Anonymous#i mean if she calls him lu but hasn't seen him before he fell#he must've gone by lucifer too?#shrug emoji
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Tagged by @rudeface, thank you for the tag.
Twenty Questions
Name: Kasia
Nicknames: Kasia (exciting yaaaay)
Zodiac Sign: Sagittarius
Height: 5 ft 6
Orientation: straight (-ish)
Ethnicity: Polish af
Favorite Fruit: grapefruit/watermelon/pineapple can't be fucked to decide, tough choices
Favorite Season: autumn, it's gloomy and rainy and dark
Favorite Book: right now it might be Gray by Pete Wentz
Favorite Flowers: I'd go with peonies or orchids
Favorite Scent: something fresh, citrus or sth (or Bright Crystal by Versace)
Favorite Color: black always and forever
Favorite Animals: cats
Coffee, Tea, or Hot Coco?: coffee 100%
Average Sleep Hours: depends, on average it could be like 8, sometimes it's five million hours, sometimes it's no sleep at all, who knows
Cat or Dog Person: cat
Favorite Fictional Character: Lucifer, cause he is a witty bastard
How many blankets do you sleep with: one
Dream Trip: New York pls
When did you make this blog: I think like four years ago? Maybe five?
How many followers? Can't be arsed to check, sorry
Ain't tagging anyone, feel free to answer though!
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Good Omens Fic Rec List
Because I am utterly consumed by this fandom, and utterly thrilled by the waves of content that has been coming through, I thought I’d share some of the fics that have stolen my sleep and stolen my heart. ❤️
A Diamond Sky Above Titanic by SeaBlueEyes
The year is 1912, and one angel and one demon's lives are about to change forever as they embark on the fateful maiden voyage of the R.M.S. Titanic - and a relationship utterly forbidden by both Heaven and Hell.
This. This fic. I found it through Tumblr from an ask answered by @tio-trile . Curiosity led me to google it and read it on AO3 almost immediately, and I definitely don’t regret it. Written in 2011, it’s a mesmerizing story about love and a tragedy history felt. I’m not sure what else I can say about it that can do it justice, save ‘not to worry, it has a happy ending’, so all I can say is read it.
[Complete] [Chapters: 18]
Such Surpassing Brightness by Handful_of_Silence
The revelation that Aziraphale might have been in love with him for thousands of years is surprising. The fact that literal books have been written on the subject comes as even more of a shock.
This fic was a delight to read, with a realization on Crowley’s part and a question of ‘what if Aziraphale was the patron saint/guardian angel of the queer community’. The articles, movies, and books (though mostly made up) were described amazingly and how you began to realize, along with Crowley, that their love was the subject? Astounding.
[Complete] [Oneshot]
Home is where the plants are by Beginte
There's a plant by one of the windows. Aziraphale can't recall getting a plant. He's almost sure he didn't get a plant.
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Or: they're enjoying the beginning of the rest of their lives and Crowley repeatedly distracts Aziraphale to prevent him from noticing that he's moving in, one plant and pair of skinny jeans at a time.
A fluffy one; this fic uses the tag ‘developing established relationship’ — which is utterly accurate — and has the two slipping into their relationship, being domestic, and just loving each other.
[Complete] [Oneshot]
Bring it back, bring it back [don’t take it away from me] by wednesdaisy
After 6000 years, Crowley finally gives up on ever getting what he wants, and leaves London forever. Aziraphale doesn't like it, has a revelation, and goes after him.
The. Pining. Holy cowering blowhog.
And- and the angst. As succinctly put by the summary, Crowley leaves London and Aziraphale, giving the angel the kick he needs to sort his feelings (though still slow on the uptake).
This is a fic I really really like, with such good characterization and description of Aziraphale’s realization. A definite should read for those looking for angst with happy endings.
[Complete] [Chapters: 2]
For All Time by LynFraser09
Not long after the Armageddon that wasn't, Crowley and Aziraphale grow even closer and cross the line they've been toeing on for centuries.
Love confessions abound! Along with a serving of fluff, a napping demon on a reading angel’s lap, and banter (little bit). I love the dialog between the two in this one — seems so in character to me — and the writing style!
[Complete] [Oneshot]
to carthage then I came by Lvslie
There’s a moment of empty silence before Crowley speaks.
‘See, Aziraphale, I think it’s what I don’t want,’ he says, and Aziraphale is not brave enough to raise his eyes at him. ‘And I don’t particularly want to be your heresy.’
Getting together and moving in but not in the order you would think. This fic, the first time round, took me a while to read (and to get), but oh. There’s pining and longing — and Crowley’s existential dread — and the restraint. A good read, with a happy ending and a second chapter that made my heart hurt.
[Complete] [Chapters: 2]
the sword of damocles by dreamingstarkly
He was afraid of what Hell might do to him. He was afraid of what Heaven might do to him.
He never, ever considered whether he should be afraid of Aziraphale. No, that was so far out of mind as to be practically impossible to entertain.
Until it was too late.
Okay, oh gosh. This one. You know the scene at episode six? Where Aziraphale picks up the sword, and, for a brief moment, you could see terror in Crowley’s eyes? This is a fic about it, written amazingly about these two idiots in love. Angst with a happy ending, it also considers Aziraphale’s side, of him coming to trust, through the ages, that Crowley wouldn’t hurt him.
[Complete] [Oneshot]
What Freddie Said by Cardinal_Daughter
The Bentley decides that if its owner and the angel can’t figure out how they feel on their own, it’ll just have to help them along.
When you have a semi-sentient car who is often times witness to these two dorks, you can’t blame it for taking advantage of the radio and subtly* move them along. A humorous, lighthearted get together fic, a little bit of music is needed to open this angel and demon’s eyes.
* the word subtly is used subjectively
[Complete] [Oneshot]
Absconding with Harry verse* by obaewankenope (rexthranduil)
Harry Potter is stolen by Anthony J Crowley at the age of nine. These are the stories of how Harry James Potter fares with a demon and angel for uncles.
Full of sibilance
“You’re such a freak!” The rotund boy’s words echo across the garden of the house they seem to potentially live at—or at least one of them does—and reach Crowley’s ears easily enough. They instantly make him narrow his eyes behind his sunglasses. “No wonder your parents died! Probably to get away from you!”
What. The. Fuck.
A Good Omens-Harry Potter crossover series done by @obaewankenope! As of yet unfinished, this series is exactly what it is — Crowley absconding Harry away from the Dursleys and raising him, with the help of Aziraphale.
It’s a fun read, with a demon and an angel inserting themselves into Hogwarts to stay close to their nephew, not liking Dumbeldore (who left Harry with the Dursleys in the first place), the mutual pining between them, and smart usage of Parseltongue. I’m following this series closely to see what happens next — I’d love to see how the two interact with Sirius!
[Ongoing]
Thwarting Holy Plans by twyly56
Crowley hides a bunch of little kids in Hell during the Great Flood, so they don't drown. How monstrous of him.
Set after the Noah’s Ark scene, where Crowley abscons some kids and — practically— raises them. Not at all finished, but a good read with our favorite demon being good with kids and Soft. I’m really curious to see how this one continues!
[Ongoing]
Angel Network* by SpinnerDolphin
Aziraphale keeps a list.
—
Islington, caged beneath London (Check the locks upon leaving).
Raguel, LA (be certain his rent is paid).
Michael, Heaven, but adores Earth (keep away from bulls).
Castiel, alternate universe (don't ever go to that horrid place).
and, lately, Lucifer Morningstar, LA, who seems the sanest of the lot. It's all very confusing.
Amenadiel, LA, is also on the list, but Aziraphale reported to Amenadiel in the Rebellion and, well, some things are too strange for him even to tolerate.
Crowley's just tired of flying over the Atlantic. And turns out his boss? Well, he's kind of alright.
A Devil Put Aside (for me)
Aziraphale liked to keep tabs on his celestial buddies, but he was all tied up doing—Crowley didn’t really even know, being a lazy arse probably—so Crowley had gone to LA to check on Raguel.
But instead of a messed up archangel, he finds BLOODY LUCIFER HIMSELF. Bright side--well, weird side--the boss has apparently fallen in love with a human? So that's... something.
[A demon's perspective on Deckerstar. Or, for Good Omens fans, Crowley is totally bewildered when he finds out his boss kind of likes Earth, too. Should read clearly if you only know Lucifer or GO. Murder Mysteries is treated like ancient history, and explained in the narrative.]
Angel Network is ongoing series where Good Omens meets Lucifer, Supernatural, a tiny bit of Neverwhere, and Murder Mysteries (kind of). I utterly LOVE the characterizations in this series, and the fact that it’s a crossover of not two but more different shows/books/stories. If you were looking for that Lucifer, Good Omens, Supernatural crossover, I’d suggest this one!
[Ongoing]
* A series of fics rather than one singular one
#good omens#crowley#aziraphale#ineffable husbands#good omens fic recs#fic recs#fanfiction#I’VE GOT MORE#I’LL PUT THEM UP LATER#ao3#thank Someone for the waves of content#angst#fluff#other’s writing#complete#ongoing#oneshot#series#supernatural#lucifer#harry potter#long post
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The Distance Between Us
Chapter 29: Close Encounters
Pairing: Rowena x reader
Summary: Rowena encounters a blast from her past.
WARNING: slurs.
Editor: @miss-moon-guardian
*****
The atmosphere with Dean Winchester's absence was strange, or so Rowena thought. After all, she'd only been acquainted with the group for a short while. Though, she could tell, despite everyone's efforts to act as if nothing was wrong, something clearly was.
They missed him.
You missed him.
You acted as if you didn't, but Rowena saw right through you. You were angry at him for being mean to her. You resented him for it. Maybe you even thought you hated him. But, underneath it all, you missed him.
The day after he'd walked away Rowena had taken you aside, swallowed up her her pride, and apologized.
As much as she wanted to deny it, she felt guilty. Your friend group had functioned for years without an issue. Then she came along, and one of you had walked away.
He was a petty bastard, but Rowena didn't — couldn't — blame him for disliking her.
With her history, she wouldn't trust herself, either.
She'd made her bed, she supposed. Now she had to lie in it.
She'd spent years hanging around bad people, working alongside them, acting as one of them. She'd joined in on bullying, despicable as she'd found it. She'd gossiped and lied and destroyed without a care in the world.
Consequences were a bitch.
"It's not your fault," you'd told her, and she could tell you were honest. "You didn't do anything wrong. Dean's an asshole."
He was.
Then again, she had basically invaded his territory, his safe place.
It was only natural he felt threatened.
Days went on, and your assurance remained.
Rowena hadn't done anything wrong.
You really loved her. She didn't know how it happened or why, but somehow she'd managed to get you to fall in love with her, and you were in deep.
In public, you always clung to her. Either your hand held hers, fingers in a tight knot, or your arm was thrown around her. A sign, loud and clear, that she was yours and yours only.
When you were alone, you couldn't stop kissing her. Her lips, cheeks, or knuckles; whichever part of her was nearest, you pressed your lips to it. A silent, wordless confession of love.
Rowena basked in it all. She drank in the attention, chased it like a high.
Gilroy had never loved her like this.
Lucifer hadn't even tried.
She was an impossibly lucky girl.
"See you after school?" you asked as the bell rang to sign the end of lunch.
"Shall we go to Wonderland?" Rowena suggested. As fun as hanging out with your friends — her friends, something she still couldn't wrap her head around — at Biggerson's for the past week was, she wanted some quiet. A wee bit of alone time. Just the two of you; no people to stare, no siblings to interrupt.
"Sure!"
You flashed her a smile, and, before she could reciprocate, your lips were on hers in a swift, soft kiss.
Another thing she liked about you — you were always gentle with her. You never grabbed her, never pulled her in for a kiss forcefully. When you held her, you were loving, careful. Your kisses were tender, and you showered her with them whenever you could.
Rowena had never had that before.
She'd never been… loved.
"Sucks that we don't have any classes together today," you said with a pout.
It was ridiculously cute, not that Rowena would ever say it out loud.
Instead, she said, "I know. However will you survive?"
You lightly slapped her hand, prompting her to put on a pout of her own that she could tell made you melt. You weren't one to say it out loud, either, but your face was clear enough. There wasn't much, in terms of emotion, that you could hide from her.
"You tease, but I'm really having a hard time being away from you," you said. "You're sorta addictive."
"Maybe it's a good thing we're apart, then. You don't want to overdose."
"Says who?"
You kissed her again, longer this time. You tasted like heaven, like love and warmth and everything she ever wanted but never had until now. Rowena melted into the sensation. She wanted to stay like this forever; with you, your hands gently holding on to her shoulders, your warmth spilling into her, consuming her, embracing her.
"In that case," she said as you parted, mouth tingling where yours touched it, nerves on fire, "I shall look for you during the next break. Mustn't let you to suffer withdrawals."
"That's more like it! See ya!"
You squeezed her hand in emphasis, then ran into the retreating crowd. Rowena remained in her place, still as a statue. She looked after you, at your back that disappeared in the sea of students rushing to get back to class. Her hand was on fire; it pulsated as if a heart were beating underneath it, your touch still lingering, a ghost on her skin.
You were hers.
Her friend.
Her lover.
Her girl.
It still felt like a dream, as if she would wake up anytime now and find herself laying beside Lucifer, body blooming with bruises, tear-smeared mascara staining her face.
No!
This was real.
You were real.
She swore on her life, on her damned, rotten soul, to never do anything to lose you.
*****
Everything went as planned. The two of you met up for every break, talking a bit, complaining about the boring classes and unfair teachers.
It felt nice.
It felt normal.
Normal was something Rowena hadn't had in a while. Olivette usually badmouthed one person or another. Lucifer joined in, made jokes that weren't funny and laughed at them, all the while keeping a firm arm around Rowena, as if someone would steal her if he were to remove it.
Rowena used to think it was sweet. He was just being protective. A tad too much, perhaps, but it was all for her good. He was just showing her off, showing the world that he had her and they didn't. A lover straight out of a historical romance novel; possessive, but in a way that was romantic rather than disgusting.
Right.
Rowena wanted to laugh at her stupidity.
Lucifer never loved her; she doubted he was even capable of the emotion.
He most likely never even liked her.
She was excellent in bed. She let him use and abuse her, and gave him whatever he wanted without a single word of protest. He didn't even have to ask.
He saw a chance, and he took it.
He took advantage.
And she let him.
She stupidly let him.
All because she wanted what he had.
Well, fuck popularity, she thought. It had brought her nothing but trouble.
She'd been surrounded by people, yet she was alone.
She'd had a boyfriend, yet she wasn't loved, wasn't cherished and cared for.
She'd had nothing.
All the power she'd thought she had was borrowed.
It was never hers.
Nothing was.
Until you.
Rowena replayed that thought as she trudged through the crowd of students. It was the recess before the last period; five minutes before another — thankfully final — boring hour. History. She loved the subject, but she loved you more.
She couldn't wait for the final bell to ring so the two of you could make yourselves at home at Wonderland and put the school day behind you.
The relationship was still fresh. Still new and bright and shiny, and Rowena didn't want to waste a minute of it.
After so many hardships, she was finally happy.
She wanted nothing but to make the best of it.
"Where you going, Red?"
The voice stood out amongst the noise of the crowd like a nail running over the chalkboard, squeaky and loud and nauseating.
Rowena froze, limbs falling still as a statue. As if her flesh had suddenly turned to marble. A knot formed in her stomach; it twisted tightly, almost made her double over in pain.
No.
She kept her head up. Kept it high up and proud. The picture of strength.
He didn't get to make her submit.
He didn't get to have that much power — any power — over her.
She wasn't his plaything anymore.
Lucifer stood before her like he used to so many times before. The smile she used to find so lovely, that now made her want to vomit, was wide and bright on his mouth. He was still handsome, still good-looking, but, looking at him now, he didn't stand out much.
He was a boy, just like any other in this school.
Nothing special, really.
Just a boy who thought too much of himself and too little of others.
Rowena swallowed a lump that had formed at the back of her throat. A blink, and she was back in his room; his hands were on her neck, his fists rained down on her face, his heavy-soled feet rammed into her ribs. His face was in hers, and his words were daggers ripping into her, tearing her apart from the inside out.
Punch.
Kick.
Scream.
Rinse and repeat.
"Move," she spat, willing herself back to reality. Squeezing her fists tight to anchor herself.
It was in the past.
What he'd done to her, how he'd hurt her — it was all in the past.
Her wounds had healed. She had new friends. She had a girlfriend that gave a damn about her, who loved her for who she was. Who wasn't going to take advantage of her when she was at her weakest.
The memories still hurt, but they were just that — memories.
They weren't real.
Not anymore.
Lucifer ignored her. "I hear you've got a girlfriend," he said smugly.
Rowena wished she could wipe that bloody smile with her fist — or the thin, sharp heel of her shoe. Who hasn't? she thought. The entire damn school knew about the two of you.
Word traveled fast here.
Especially if you happened to be a redeemed mean girl.
Gossipers loved a good redemption story!
"It's none of your bloody business!" she snapped. He may have been playing nice, but she was way past that point. The devilish smile couldn't charm her anymore.
Lucifer put his hands up. "Relax. I come in peace."
Rowena snorted. He wouldn't know peace if it slapped him in the face.
"I'm just curious about your new… relationship."
Curious, my arse!
He'd come to harass, to bully, to hurt.
Rowena wasn't born yesterday. She knew him; she knew his kind, knew how they operated, how they ticked. There was never a just with them.
They always had an ulterior motive.
"Y/N good to you?"
The question was as smug as his smile. Rhetorical, but she couldn't resist replying, "Much better than you."
If it bothered him, he didn't show it. Instead, he pressed a hand to his heart dramatically. "Ouch. You wound me, babe."
"I am not your babe."
Not anymore.
Never again.
"Moved on quite quickly, haven't you?"
It wasn't quite as easy, but he didn't need to know that. "What can I say? Some people are more forgettable than others."
If only she could forget him.
If only she could erase all he'd put her through — the abuse, the manipulation — from her brain.
"Right. Is that why you look so scared?" She gulped as he said it, swallowed a breath. Lucifer chuckled. "I bet you still dream about me."
She'd had a nightmare or two; nothing she couldn't handle. They were long behind her. "Don't flatter yourself."
"Oh, but I know you, Rowena," Lucifer said, so damn sure of himself. "I know you still think about me."
"You know nothing!" she snapped.
"Still a firecracker, I see. That's my girl!"
"I am not your girl!" She was offended by the mere suggestion.
"You'll always be my girl," he said. "What we had doesn't just go away."
Och, it did.
It went away the second she turned her back on him and ran into your arms.
There was no more Rowena and Lucifer. No more power-couple. All that remained of them were memories; awful, painful, regretful.
"I bet she doesn't do it as well as I do," Lucifer said. "She doesn't have the means."
Rowena wanted to laugh. That was where he was going? Seriously? "Goodness, you really are pathetic!"
"Am I? Or are you just projecting? We both know the V has nothing on the D."
Laughter exploded from her mouth. "Darling, your D has nothing on a cheap dildo."
Not quite true, but the remark did its job. Lucifer narrowed his eyes, mouth tight, forehead vein popping. "You're a whore."
Was that the best he could come up with?
"All that talk about friendship, when in reality, you were fucking her behind my back." He stepped forward. Got in her face. His warm breath on her skin made bile rise up to her throat.
The last time he was this close, he had hit her. He had hit her and beat her and marked her for days — weeks — to come.
That was then, Rowena reminder herself. This was now. He wouldn't dare pull anything like that in front of so many people. He was quite a traditional boy, in that regard. All closed doors and a nice boy facade. Mustn't let the neighbors see.
Didn't make her feel any better. Didn't make the fear in her bones, cold as the snow-coated streets outside, fade away.
He may not have been able to do anything physically, but he still had his second best weapon — his tongue, sharp enough to hurt, to main, to rip apart.
"I wish I was," Rowena said, holding her ground. Her hands balled into fists, knuckles taut, sheet-white. Her conscience was clear; she was a lot of things, but a cheater was not one of them. "Maybe I would have realized what rubbish you are sooner."
"Takes one to know one, babe," Lucifer said with a shrug because of course he did. What else would he say?
Rowena wasn't one to back away from a challenge. "Is that why you still believe I cheated? Projection is a hell of a drug."
"That was different." Of course it was. "I loved you."
She snorted. "I doubt you even know what the word means."
"Okay, you got me there," he said, the corners of his mouth curling into a smirk. "So I didn't love you. Can you blame me? I mean, look at you. Who in their right mind could love… that?"
Rowena swallowed. Once. Twice. Three times. He was a colossal bastard, but she couldn't deny the truth in his words. Who could love someone like her? Someone so cold, so dead inside, walking through the world with an iron mask on her face?
Who would dare love someone like that?
You.
You did.
You dared to try, and you grew fond of her.
You fell in love with her.
The first person in… how long was it?
The first person ever.
Maybe that was her fault. She hadn't exactly made it easy for people to get close to her. She pretended and lied and pushed away anyone who dared step too close.
She wasn't the easiest person to love.
Impossible, almost.
But, she knew with her entire being, from the depths of her soul, she didn't deserve what Lucifer had done to her. She didn't deserve to be cheated on and abused. She didn't deserve to be betrayed.
The relationship they'd had was toxic from the start, but the blame wasn't solely on her.
"Still, what we had was special," Lucifer added. "You can't deny that."
Rowena certainly thought it was special.
At the time.
She knew better now.
That relationship had potential for greatness, but it never got to blossom.
"It was a waste of a year of my life," she said, urging — pleading — her voice to remain steady, not to break under the pressure.
"You say that like you could've done better. We both know that's not true. I made you, Rowena."
As if she hadn't heard that one before. It still hurt as much as the first time. She grit her teeth. "Is this the part where you say you can ruin me? At least do me a courtesy of being original, will you? Because this is getting tedious."
"Oh, I can do more than that." His voice was slick as poison. Deadly to the core. Shivers spilled down her spine. "You don't get to ruin my life and get away with it."
Another fit of laughter escaped her mouth. "I ruined your life?"
He had some nerve to even suggest that.
He'd hurt her so much, and somehow — by some insane troll logic — she was the one at fault?
"You almost killed me!" she snapped.
"Oh, don't be so dramatic!"
"Dramatic? I could barely walk! It took me weeks to heal!"
"And whose fault was that?" he retorted. "If you weren't running around with that dyke behind my back, ruining my reputation, none of that would've been necessary!"
Necessary?
That was his excuse — he'd beaten her within an inch of her life because it was necessary?
He stepped forwards. She backed away. He kept going, kept advancing on her until her back slammed into the wall. Hig big, massive body towered over her. He pressed his hands to the wall on either side of her, trapping her, caging her like an animal.
Rowena's heart raced. Panic shot through her, flooded her veins, sent her nerves into overdrive. He wouldn't hit her. Right? Not here. Not now. He wouldn't dare.
Only, he totally would.
He was Lucifer Shurley. Charming. Charismatic. Popular. The principal's son.
Rules didn't apply to boys like him.
"Get away from me!" Rowena found it in her to bark.
He ignored her. "I see you're still at it. I won't let you get away with it. You don't get to throw me away for a nobody."
Yet, that was exactly what she did.
Happily so. Proudly.
And she would do it again in a heartbeat.
"Fuck you!" she told him, looking him straight in the eyes. She tried to push him away, only for him to smack her hands away. A small girl like her was no match for a giant like him.
"You're adorable," he said condescendingly.
She wanted to spit in his face.
She was about to, when a familiar, unexpected voice said, "What's going on here?"
Dean Winchester, in the flesh. Looking like he wanted to punch something (or someone). His usual mode.
Rowena met his eyes in a silent, wordless plea. Get him away, her glance said. Please. Pathetic, but what else did she have left? She couldn't get rid of Lucifer on her own. Couldn't free herself. Couldn't do anything other than feign strength that had left her the moment he blocked her way.
She hoped with everything she had that Dean understood.
If he was here to gloat, to throw more accusations…
"Just old lovers having a nice, little chit-chat," Lucifer said, the charming, thousand-watt smile back on his mouth.
Dean wasn't fooled. "Really? And she's okay with that?"
"Why wouldn't she be?"
Lucifer hand brushed against the top of her head in a caress.
Rowena flinched.
"You okay with that, Rowena?"
She shook her head.
That was enough for Dean. He took a step forward, menacing, face serious as death. "Right. How about you step away?"
Lucifer immediately put his hands up in surrender. "Wow, wow, okay! Chill, dude. No need to be so serious. We were just talking. Honest."
Rowena scurried away, putting as much distance between them as possible. Dean stepped in front of her. He was tall, looming, a protective statue she felt strangely safe with. She didn't trust him — she didn't like him, and the feeling was very mutual — but she knew he wouldn't hurt her. That wasn't his way.
She'd heard stories about him. He went through girls like laundry. Bedded everything female with a pulse that gave him the time of the day. Stole hearts and broke them all the same.
They all had one thing in common — he respected the girls he'd been with. Not a single one had a complaint about his behavior. Those he didn't sleep with held him in high regard, thought him one of the good jocks.
Dean Winchester was a lot of things, but he respected girls.
He wouldn't let something happen to Rowena, no matter how much he hated her.
Or so she liked to think.
"You okay?" he asked.
"Aye," she replied. Shaken up, but she'd had worse.
"She doesn't wanna talk to you," he said.
"It was kinda a one sided conversation," Lucifer conceded. "A monologue, really. For the most part. But it was fun! I swear."
"I told you to leave me alone," Rowena said. "You're not supposed to be talking to me."
He wasn't supposed to be anywhere near her.
That was the arrangement her mother had made with the principal.
Rowena had declined to press charges for the abuse, and her mother had made it clear that, if Lucifer were to come anywhere near her daughter, those charges would be filed. Rowena had readily agreed to that arrangement. She didn't want to deal with the police and the court; all she'd wanted was to forget, to move on, to heal and start anew. To get away from it all for she was still reeling from the revelations she'd been given and it was too much — way too much — and too soon.
"You gonna tell your mommy on me?" Lucifer said in a childish voice.
"I will send you to bloody prison!" Rowena snarled.
A few heads turned amidst the rush to classes, the bell seconds from ringing. She glared at each and every one of them, urging them to run away. She wasn't in the mood for another public drama.
"Ooh, I'm terrified," Lucifer taunted.
"Why don't you take a hike?" Dean said, his tone leaving no room for argument.
"Come on, man! That's harsh!" Lucifer whined at the same time as the bell sounded. "On second thought, you're right. I should get going." He grinned, then winked at Rowena. "See ya later, Red. This isn't over."
She let out a long, hard breath she'd been holding as he walked away.
As far as she was concerned, it was over. She had no intentions of talking to him again. If he were to pull the same stunt, she was ready to make good on her mother's threat.
Lucifer Shurley had no business being anywhere near her personal space.
She didn't want him there.
She wasn't interested in his stories or his little threats.
He was her past, a history as tragic and awful as any other.
It wouldn't be repeated.
Never again.
"You sure you're okay?" Dean asked, shaking her to reality. She looked up to find his eyes on her; looking her over, scanning every inch of her. Concern was etched into his stern face, imprinted in his skin like a permanent tattoo.
Was he genuinely worried?
Or was this part of his good boy reputation?
"Aye," Rowena said again. "He didn't do anything."
He nodded, relieved.
"Rowena! Hey — what's going on?"
You were suddenly there, emerging from a crowd with a book in your arms. You stared at her, then at Dean, suspicion crawling over your face like a shadow.
A rush of relief swept over Rowena at your presence.
Things were okay.
She was okay.
Everything was okay now that you were here.
Her lips widened into a smile. Yours returned it, albeit nervously, confused.
"Yes, I was just—" Rowena started to explain, only to be cut off by Dean.
"Lucifer was here."
You blinked. "Lucifer?" The implication dawned on you. "Oh, my god! Are you okay?"
"I am," Rowena assured you, taking your hands — warm, loving — into hers. Your fingers squeezed as if your life depended on it. "He was just being Lucifer. Talking nonsense."
"Did he hurt you?" Your tone made it clear he would regret it if he did.
Rowena didn't doubt it. She shook her head. "No. He just talked. Made threats. The usual."
"What kind of threats?"
She sighed. "He said this isn't over."
"The hell it isn't! We should go to the principal right now."
"And tell him what? That his son was mean to me?" She scoffed. "Let it go. It's not worth it."
Your expression softened. "He doesn't get to do that to you."
Goodness, you loved her! You loved her so much. She could see it in your face, could hear it in the softness of your words.
What did she do to deserve that?
What did she do to deserve you?
"If he does it again, I will report, okay?" Rowena suggested.
"Fine," you conceded. "So long as you're okay."
"I am. I promise." She pecked you on the mouth to prove it, earning her a big, happy grin. "I'm not made of glass, Y/N."
"I know," you told her. "But, as your girlfriend, it's my duty to look after you."
"Shall I start paying you to guard me?" she teased.
You chuckled. "Totally. I should start charging my bodyguard services."
"Hey," Dean said, breaking the banter. "I wanna say I'm sorry."
You scowled, not quite buying it. "Are you?"
"Yeah." It was just one word, but there was so much sincerity in it. So much genuine regret. "I shouldn't have said the things I said."
"You were a dick."
"I know."
"Out of line."
"I know." He swallowed. "Rowena, I was wrong about you. I'm sorry."
Rowena nodded, offering a smile. He'd been a colossal numbnut, but she understood his suspicions. If someone had told her she would join your group of friends and abandon hers a couple of months ago, she would have laughed in their face.
Her redemption, so to speak, was fast. The others had adjusted quickly, but it was only natural Dean needed some time.
Granted, he could have handled it better. However, his apology seemed sincere, genuine.
If everyone could give her a chance, she didn't see why she couldn't give him one.
"I don't wanna hear anymore bullshit," you said firmly.
Dean nodded. "No more bullshit."
"Okay." You flashed him a smile, a big, bright one.
He reciprocated. A moment passed in silence, then he said, "I think we're all late to class."
Honestly, class was the last thing on Rowena's mind at the moment.
You seemed to share the sentiment. "Wanna cut?" you asked her.
"Naughty girl," she said with a wink. "I don't see why not."
It was the last class of the day, anyway.
The sooner the two of you got to Wonderland, the better.
"You guys have fun," Dean said.
"You're staying?" you asked, quirking up an eyebrow, disbelieving.
"I cut yesterday. And the day before." He grinned proudly. "Gotta stay a few times, right?"
You chuckled. "Enjoy."
"You know me. I love school."
Right.
Same way as Rowena loved her former friends. And knock-off shoes. And pork rinds.
The three of you said your goodbyes, and then you and her were out the door.
Hand in hand, headed for Wonderland.
*****
Tags: @werewolfbarbie @oswinthestrange @songofthecagedmoose @apurdyfulmind @getthesalt-sam @metallihca @salembitchtrials @jay-eris @hellsmother @elizabeth-effie @shadowgirl-vsb @rowenaswife @wonderifshelikesroses @xfireandsin @liddell-alien @hotdiggitydammit @lae-lae @darkhumorsblog @gaysnakess @angel7376 @cherrypierowena @ruthieconnells @evil-regal-vampiress @collectorofsecretsandsouls @angel-e-v-a @tasyahilker @a-queen-and-her-throne @carryon-doctor-lock
#rowena#rowena macleod#spn#supernatural#spn family#rowena x reader#lucifer#dean winchester#my fics#fanfiction#high school au
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@cagedindarkness // let’s see if i can make this angsty.. ish?
Enough was enough. Crowley was willing to take a lot, he’d been willing to bend his knee, to charm and chatter his way back onto the Devil’s good side and he’d done all he could think of to please him. Respect shown at every chance that presented itself, he’d helped keeping hell run so Lucifer didn’t have to worry about numbers or paperwork and could fully enjoy being evil. Crowley had - hands down, worked his bloody arse off to please him. He knew there’d been bad blood between them and he was a demon, but he couldn’t punish him forever.
They kissed, the slept together, they reigned hell together and yet he simply and vehemently refused to show even the smallest bit of affection. He’d even accept non-hatred. He slammed the doors of the throne room shut, then made his way towards the throne. “You and I - we need to talk. I can’t .. no, I won’t keep going like this. I’m not your bloody doormat. I’ve done everything you asked for. And more. I’ve made up for past mistakes - you and I both know I have. I’ve touched your bloody wings, you kissed me and we’ve had sex. Several times if I might add and we both enjoyed, all of this actually. And yet you refuse to treat me like I deserve it.”
It was about time they talked about this, and yes - part of him did worry about yelling at an archangel, but he did have his pride, and his worth and he wouldn’t let Lucifer keep treating him like rubbish.
#cagedindarkness#v; don'т вeg тнe qυeѕтιon wнen тнe anѕwer ιѕ war ( cagedιndarĸneѕѕ )#v: ι'м тнe evιleѕт evιl тo ever evιl. ( poѕт ₁₁.₁₅; ғυgιтιve ĸιng oғ нell \ canon )#rp: worth more
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Forever with the Devil (Chapter 7)
A/N
So sorry for the delay! But, I'll make it up to you and by the end of the week, I will be posting 1 or 2 new chapters. Please, send some feedback my way. xx
(Chapter 1 link here)
(Chapter 6 link here)
Belua swung her arm with precision, collecting all her strength to punch Nathaniel square in the face. From the sheer intensity of the impact, he lost his balance and landed on his back, flat on the floor.
„That's for kidnapping me.“, Bel announced, coming to him and bracing herself for another punch. She kicked his side with her foot, his whole body rolling a few feet away from her. „...And that's for ruining my new clothes.“
Lucifer smiled. His anger was less apparent now.
Chloe still remained behind the chair from which she untied Belua and set her free while the two brothers quarrelled. Luckily, the detective was able to sneak into the building and release Bel before Nathaniel could even notice. He was too concentrated on Lucifer.
Still a little uneasy, Chloe remained by the side. She had a feeling that everything will resolve itself now, but also couldn't help to feel the significant drawback of being the only human among these powerful creatures.
„Detective, that was an incredibly foolish thing to do.“, Lucifer remarked.
„I know, right?“ she exhaled, her tensed shoulders relaxing. „I must've picked up a thing or two from your behaviour.“
Lucifer chuckled, although still trapped to the same spot with the iron straps on his ankles. He told Chloe to set him free, but she didn't see any switch or a tool, something that she could've help him with. Meanwhile, Belua knocked the poor angel unconscious. Blood was coming out of his mouth and he was laying on the floor, his clothes now covered in dirt. With her chest heaving as she breathed in and out, trying to steady her heart racing, she limped over to Luci. He observed her face, the relief washing over her.
„Bel... I'm sorry for breaking my promise.“, he blurted out instantly, sighing.
„It's not your fault.“, she responded, looking at him, not knowing what to say or do at that point.
There was a moment of silence as both of them looked at Chloe.
„Get her out of here, before Nathaniel wakes up.“, Lucifer said while staring at Bel. „I'll get myself out of this.“
„How?“ Belua came closer, looking at the angel-proofed harnesses.
„My brother's smart, I'll give him that.“, he flashed a smirk, but a painful one as he looked at Bel. „But, I'm still smarter.“
Belua sighed and nodded, going over to Chloe. Her wings appeared in an instant, spreading on her back and even glowing slightly. Chloe's eyes immediately went to the silver feathers and she was ogling at them, completely forgetting about anything else that was happening. They were absolutely mesmerizing. Somehow, they made Chloe feel calm and relaxed as she marvelled at them.
„Do you trust me?“ Belua asked, snapping her back to reality.
„Uhm...“, the detective looked warily at her. „No.“
„Well, of course.“, Belua huffed, shaking her head while chuckling. „That was silly of me to even ask. You don't know me.“
„Detective!“ Lucifer called out from the same spot as before. „Just do as she says. I can assure you her plans are always more elaborate than mine.“
Belua glanced at Luci and then turned back around to look at Chloe. „We don't have time for this.“
With a few hurried steps, Belua came over to Chloe and embraced her, holding onto her tightly. To say that Chloe was confused would be an understatement.
„Hold onto me tight.“, Belua instructed and before Chloe could react, both of their legs lifted up from the floor.
They were levitating. The detective started panicking and wriggling, but still held onto Belua, so she wouldn't fall.
„I hope you're not afraid of heights.“, Belua said and laughed a bit, her wings flapping. With Chloe trying not to scream, they flew out of the building through a broken window.
Her silver wings fluttered gracefully and Chloe found herself staring again. This time, the magnificent feathers didn't calm her that much, but she somehow believed that she was in good hands. Quite literally actually, because Belua was still hugging her, while Chloe clung to her arms. She could feel the softness of the wings against her skin, the wind passing through her hair. She didn't remember much of the whole 'flight', only seeing a few buildings from above and feeling dizzy. Her feet touched the ground again on the balcony of Lucifer's penthouse and she exhaled a sigh of relief. Her still blurry vision registered Maze coming, saying something, but she couldn't remember what it was.
„Take care of her, Maze.“, Belua said hurriedly and Chloe could now hear everything clearly. Belua then left Chloe's side and ran off the balcony.
Maze yelled after her, but it was too late. Bel already flew up and disappeared.
Chloe's chest was heaving and her heart thumped fast. She was currently in slight shock. Maze took her by the arm and sat her down on the couch.
On the other side of town and only a few minutes later, Belua landed a bit too hastily, almost falling as she stumbled over her feet. She hurried over to Lucifer, who was sitting on the ground, completely exhausted. His feet weren't tied anymore and there were clear signs of struggle, because the table was split in half. Blood was coming out of a fresh wound on the Devil's face, just above his eyebrow. He had several other minor cuts on his body, his suit ripped apart and ruined.
„Lucifer!“ Bel kneeled down so they were face to face. She took him by the shoulders gently and pulled him into a bear hug.
„Bel...“, his voice was croaky. „I'm sorry.“
„It's alright.“, she closed her eyes, enjoying his presence. „I'm glad you're okay.“
„I broke my promise. I-“, Lucifer swallowed hard. „I wasn't able to take care of you.“
His grasp on her was strong, like he was afraid to let her go again.
„What happened to Nathaniel?“ she asked, hesitating. „You didn't...?“
He pulled away from the embrace, looking almost offended. „You don't honestly think I would... I'm not a-!“
A bitter chuckle came out of his mouth as he realized what almost escaped his mouth. Tears welled up in his eyes as he remembered his brother Uriel.
„Luci...“, Bel cupped his cheeks with her hands in a loving manner. „You are not a killer. What happened to Uriel was not your fault.“
„I let Nathaniel escape. He only got a half of what he deserved.“, Lucifer said harshly. „He hurt you. That's unforgivable.“
„And I kicked his arse for doing so.“, she smiled at him reassuringly.
Lucifer didn't say a word, his eyes still bloodshot.
„Don't move.“, she instructed as she closed her eyes. Her hands were still on his cheeks. In a few brief moments, while she concentrated and gathered her power, Lucifer sat not moving a muscle. His wounds started to heal as his body trembled, his skin getting back to usual, without any scars whatsoever. If there wasn't blood on his clothes, nobody would even think he was injured.
„I don't deserve you.“, he kissed her cheek softly as she finished, while his hands took hers.
„Luci...“, she sighed.
„I'm going to make it up to you.“, his eyes looked sad.
„Let's just go home.“, she said and they stood up, still holding onto each other for support.
#lucifer morningstar x reader#lucifer morningstar imagine#lucifer morningstar series#lucifer morningstar oneshot#lucifer x reader#supernatural writings
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A submission for 'One Hell of a Faimily'
If you are willing to take such from un-Tumblred folks such as I.
Yana Gavrilovna had a plan. Possibly not a very good plan, but, eh. In this economy, there really wasn’t many options for a high school dropout in a village 70 miles from St Petersburg. She had no desire to be a housewife and she wasn’t pretty enough to be a whore. So, summoning the devil it was. She’d found the spells in a book in the old house in the woods north of the Markovs’ potato field, the one that had belonged to Yekatrina Fyodorovna, who everyone said had been a witch. Apparently everybody had been right because there were plenty of supplies and a giant mortar and pestle just lying about the place. All Yana had had to do was nick a few herbs from the Markovs to replace the ones that had gone moldy, and then puzzle her way through the really old fashioned text.
It was handwritten on mismatched pieces of parchment stitched together into a ragged leather cover and covered in writing, some in weird, spikey letters, some in a weird, long-voweled language, and half the time with Russian notations underneath. There were also a few spells in what she recognised as Church Slavonic, but they were all for good luck and plentiful harvests and that sort of goody-goody shit. The foreign spells were much more interesting.
She found no less than twenty three summoning spells for ‘spirits’, which she assumed was the polite witchy term for demon. She found herself torn between summoning a spirit of Heavenly Fire, which certainly sounded like Lucifer, and a spirit of shadow-dwelling snakes, which also sounded like the devil. The need to play music for the latter spirit decided it. Yana had all the musical talent of a brick, and no desire to risk offending some demon with her crappy voice.
She stumbled her way through the verses of the summoning, burning herbs and lighting candles at the appropriate moments. She was sure that the spell was supposed to be all aetherially beautiful and mystic sounding, but since she had no idea what she was reading out and kept stumbling over words, it just sounded like a six year old reciting poetry. Eventually, she got to the end, lit the last bundle of herbs in the candle and drew a wonky circle around the flickering lump of wax with the smoldering sage.
For a moment, nothing happened, and Yana began to feel like an idiot. Then, the candle sputtered, and the circle burst into multicoloured flames and all of a sudden there was a thing inside. Thing was definitely the right word, because Yana had no idea what she was looking at. It certainly wasn’t the sleek-looking horned gentleman in a suit she had expected. Television had clearly lied to her. Instead it seemed to be a thing made of sheets of light, almost like the aurorae they sometimes got this far south. After a short period of squinting it resolved itself into an immense face, almost that of a dog, but longer in the muzzle, with sharp fangs and catlike eyes.
It spoke without opening its vast maw, its voice echoing inside Yana’s head like a seemingly infinite choir. Sadly, it spoke in whatever the Hell language she summoned it in, so it might have been demanding her soul or complaining about the herbs for all she knew. Unsure how to respond, Yana just shrugged and asked, “You speak Russian?”
“Do I speak- of course I speak Russian,” it looked around, “this is Russia. Of course. First time I’m summoned in over a century, and it’s to some dingy hovel in Russia. I guess that explains the crappy incantation. You can’t speak a word of Finnish, can you, girl?”
“Finnish.” Satan spoke Finnish. Satan was a Finn. That… made a disturbing amount of sense actually.
She dismissed that train of thought with a wave of her hand, “I want to make a deal. Demons love that right?”
It looked at her blankly. Yana took that to mean she should go on. “Anyway, you lot always want the human girl to bear your spawn or whatever, and you got the magic, so, hears the deal, make me immortal and eternally young, and I’ll carry your kid. Sound good?”
“Please let me leave.” It looked almost despairing.
“Agree to the deal and I will.”
After a moment, in which the demon seemed almost like it was considering just staying there forever, it sighed, which felt really strange, and said, “Fine, alright, whatever. Just let me leave.”
“Awesome,” Yana clapped her hands together, “so, d’you need to do anything to knock me up or what?”
“I suppose this would work better if I was solid,” it said miserably, “human shaped too. One moment.”
The demon did… something, and it became smaller, and solid, and somewhat to Yana’s surprise, a fox. A disturbingly large fox, about the size of a horse, but otherwise, just a normal fox, the kind she sometimes saw in the woods. Then, the demon did something else, which sort of made reality go all twisty for a moment, and it became a young man, with bright red hair and glowing fox-eyes. He was actually kind of cute, all awkward and naked and- holy shit that was the biggest cock Yana had ever seen outside porn.
“I, uh, attempted to recall what human females prefer in a mate. My kind does not reproduce in such a… physical way.”
“No, no, we’re good.” Yana supposed that human men probably ought to be disappointing after demons, but still.
“There’s a bed over there, um,” she broke the circle with the toe of her shoe, “let’s, y’know.”
They did. It was very awkward and the demon, who apparently had no name pronounceable by humans but who Yana dubbed Vasiliy after a favourite pet dog, had no idea what he was doing.
“So,” she said after they were done, and Vasiliy was just standing about looking confused, “Assuming this takes,”
Yana looked a question at Vasiliy, who said, “It will. I am certain.”
“Then you just need to come back in nine months to give me what you promised and pick up your kid. ‘Cause I’m sure as Hell not looking after it.”
Vasiliy nodded, then asked, “Should I stay around or can I leave?”
“Go, go,” Yana waved him off, “ just remember to come back and gimme my payment.”
Yana walked back to the village with a limp and a feeling of smug accomplishment. Phase one, complete. Time for phase two.
Finding an actual witch, and not some random-arse Wiccan or neopagan, was actually a lot harder than summoning a demon. Google didn’t seem to work for this, so, at four months and already starting go show, Yana was forced to rely on somebody she really hadn’t wanted to. Her Babushka, her hyper-superstitious, extremely devout church-scrubbing, headscarf-wearing grandmother, who knew all the gossip, seemingly, in rural European Russia. Her babushka who would definitely know she was pregnant out of wedlock and lecture her for hours about sin and Hell and suchlike. Not that Hell was going to be a problem.
Still, her babushka could never know that.
Never.
Four hours of fire and brimstone later, she was able to ask about witches. Subtly.
“I don’t remember doing anything carnal four months ago, the only thing I can think of was I poked around in Yekarina Olekova’s old house, and everybody knows she was a witch. That’s why father Boris had to run her over with the combine harvester. Twelve times. So maybe she cursed her house and now I’m cursed and a what if it’s the kind of curse that needs another witch to remove it.” Yana used her best puppy eyes and crocodile tears. Apparently, it worked. Supposedly, there was a witch four villages over who kept trying to bargain for peoples firstborn. Babushka had told her that so she could avoid Anastasiya Karamazova, but, ehh. A week later she had borrowed her brother Aleksei’s car, purportedly to go see a doctor at the nearest hospital, and driven over to see Karamazova.
Karamazova’s house was a lot nicer than Olekova’s. Not just because it hadn’t been left to moulder for two years either. It was newer, built only a few years ago when Karamazova had moved here from the big city and had yet to try and buy babies. She looked about thirty, with stringy blonde hair and a kind face, laugh lines around brown eyes.
“So, I hear you’re a witch.” Yana said when she opened the door.
“Not another one,” she sighed, “I will call the police on you girl, don’t think I won’t.”
“No, no,” Yana held up her hands, “I’m not here to bother you. I’m here to talk business.”
Karamazova raised a brow and stood aside, gesturing for her to come in, “Then I apologise for my rudeness in making you talk over a threshold.”
When they were seated at a neat looking dining table, tea steeping in a pot in front of them, Yana began, “You are a real witch, right? Baba Yaga’s granddaughter, that whole deal, not just some Wiccan.”
“I am. Not that I like to publicise such.” Karamazova poured the tea and offered the bowl of sugar cubes. Yana took one and put it in her mouth, drinking her tea around it, while Karamazova did the same.
“Then, I have a deal for you. I’m knocked up, see,” Yana gestured to her belly, “and I hear you’re looking for a kid. This’d be my firstborn, and I don’t actually want a kid. So, I propose a trade.”
“Well, this is new,” Karamazova said, “Never heard of someone actually offering before. I’m guessing you don’t even want ten years with him or something.”
“Nope,” a thought struck Yana, “him?”
“I’m a witch, girl. Do you really think I can’t tell sex and gender, even in a fetus? Both male, in this case. A shame, I would have preferred a daughter, but needs must, and this boy will have power, I can feel it. I am interested. What do you want, then?”
“Money. I want to be wealthy beyond my wildest dreams for the rest of my life.”
“Doable. I will have to pull some strings, but it can be done.”
“Awesome. See you in, what, five months?”
“Yes. 13th of March, around 8:45 in the morning.”
“Cool. I’ll arrange to be at Mariinskiy hospital that morning,” Yana said, “think you can magic up the papers so they say he’s you kid not mine?”
“Easily. I will be there also. What name should I put down, then?”
Yana shrugged, “How about Timofey Vassilieyovich? Timo’s my favourite brother, and the father’s called Vasiliy.”
“That will do. Will I have to deal with the father?”
“Up to you. You’re a witch, I’m sure you can handle him. Although,” she smirked, “you might want to keep him around. Boy has no idea what he’s doing, but damn, he has got a good foundation to work on, if you know what I mean.” She waggled her eyebows and held her hands almost a foot apart, and Karamazova almost choked on her tea.
“I’ll see myself out,” she said, whilst Karamazova sputtered, “see you March 13th. Mariinskiy hospital, in Petersburg, and remember what I want.”
Winter came, and it went, and the only thing that really seemed memorable was that she got hugely fat, little Timmy seemed to decide bruising every organ he could reach was a great game, and there were far more aurorae than usual. Almost every night in fact, and a bunch of scientists kept turning up to poke at things with weird instruments and stare at the sky whilst scratching their heads. Other than that it was just the usual haze of her relatives’ and neighbours’ disapproval, she lost her job at the local pub, not that she really cared, and Timo agreed to put her up so she wouldn’t have to live with her parents. He really was her favourite brother. Also, he lived in Petersburg, and had a job as a journalist with the BBC, and could therefore be openly gay, which meant babushka would not bother her. She liked his boyfriend, too. Henri was nice, and Canadian, and told her stories about Montréal and his big, weird family and said that they’d happily put her up if she ever wanted to go.
Spring came and the canals filled with slush, and Yana became truly vast. Henri and Timo kept bringing her food and weird vitamin thingies and offered to adopt the kid if she didn’t want it, though they said they’d have to do that in Canada, where it was apparently legal for gays to do that and also get married. Yana spent a lot of her time looking up places she wanted to visit on Henri’s old laptop, and going to an English class that Henri taught. She figured English would be useful when she did travel, and she intended to travel and awful lot. She poked around museums and art galleries and looked longingly at fancy clothes and jewelry and expensive booze. And, come March 13th she made sure to be at Mariinskiy hospital bright and early around 6am, just in time for her water to break.
Two and a half hours of pain and swearing later, she was presented with a scrawny little thing by fearful nurses, while the obstetrician was on the phone and babbling about birth defects and journal articles and scans. Timmy had red hair. She supposed she ought to have expected that. Still, she was curious so she unwrapped the little bundle to take a look. The first thing that struck her was the tail. Well, no the first thing that struck her was that he was definitely a boy, but this was her son and a baby and that was just weird. Anyway, he had a tail covered in red fur, a when she turned him over the fur climbed up his back, and down his arms and legs to peter out on claw-tipped fingers and toes. When ne opened his mouth to cry there were fangs, and when she opened his eyes they were shiny and golden, the irises so large she couldn’t see the whites. This came out of her. Awesome. Anyway, Karamazova had apparently bullshitted her way in and was staring at her new kid with an expression of shock.
“So, uh, full disclosure,” Yana said, “Timmy’s dad is a demon. But hey, here’s your kid, gimme my money.”
Karamazova handed over a credit card silently, and picked up the boy, wrapping him back up. She appeared to be still in shock.
“Might want to make the doctors and nurses stop talking about weird birth defects and journal articles, before they start taking pictures.”
Anastasiya Vladislavovna Karazova had known the girl had been keeping something from her when she’d made the deal. She had though that it was something minor though, probably about the father. That he was black or Jewish or something a rural Russian would worry about, which wasn’t likely to be an issue since she intended to move to a Western country where they’d be less likely to be murdered, or that she had HIV or a drug problem or some genetic disorder, all fairly easily dealt with for a witch of Ana’s calibre. She had not expected this.
The father, she assumed, entered the room shortly after she had retrieved Timofey. She assumed it was the father anyway, because he was shrouded in some very impressive shapeshifting magic. He went over to Yana and spoke to her, then he did something that imbued her with some of his power. Then, she pointed him to Ana, who steeled herself for an argument.
“You are not a demon,” Ana opened, “some sort of nature spirit I’m guessing. A fox? You feel like fire and the aurorae have been oddly active.”
He nodded, “She summoned me and seemed convinced I would want a half human child. She demanded that I agree to her deal before she would release me. It was a kind of ignorant determination that I have never known to be swayed by facts.”
“So, now you want the kid so the deal can be fulfilled, yeah?”
“That is so.”
“Well, tough,” Ana said, “She made a deal with me too. Her firstborn for riches beyond her wildest dreams, and I held up my end of the bargain, so Timofey is mine.”
“But I also held up my bargain,” He - Vasiliy, wasn’t it, the hell kind of name is Vasiliy for a fox spirit – said, “Eternal life and youth for her half human child.”
“She played us,” despite herself, Ana was actually kind of impressed, “I’ve never even heard of somebody being ballsy enough to sell there firstborn to both a witch and a demon. Let alone bully a spirit into this sort of bullshit.”
“We seem to be at an impasse,” Vasiliy said, a thoughtful look on his borrowed face, “we could duel for the child. I am fairly certain I would win. However, not here. Too many mortals. Do you know of a good place nearby?”
“Yeah… how about no,” Ana said, “It must have been a long time since you last dealt with humans, but we’ve got a thing called joint custody now. I have him for say, a week, then you have him for a week, and we take turns like that.”
“Oh.” It seemed like the idea had never even occurred to him. While Vasiliy processes this radical alteration to his worldview, Ana took care of altering the doctor and nurses’ memories, so they only remembered a sad still birth by Yana, and a perfectly normal birth by Ana herself. Vasiliy stood in silence while she filled out the various forms, so that her son would have a birth certificate, and not long after Timofey Vasilieyovich Karamazov was officially registered as such, he spoke up again.
“Where do you live?”
“A few villages over from our mutual friend,” she gestured over at Yana, who waved back, “but not for long. I intend to go somewhere far from Russia, where we will be safe. England, maybe. Or America.”
“How about Canada?” Yana called out, “Kid’s gonna have family there. My brother Timo’s marrying a Canadian guy, he might be able to set you up.”
She though about it. By now, the demon hunters had heard about the strange goings on in the region, and she had already had to ward her home like a fortress, and the only reason that had worked was because they were looking for something bigger than some witch. They’d be after her soon enough, and Canada was a good choice. Low key. Not the kind of place anybody would think to look. And Timofey deserved to have as much family as he could, especially family that could help track down his birth mother if he ever wanted revenge.
“Sounds good,” Ana said, “unless you got a problem with that?”
Vasiliy shook his head, “It is good. Canada is close to the poles, I can visit without drawing too much attention.”
“Cool, go look up Timofey Ivanov, with the BBC. Tell him you got my kid and he’ll help you.” Yana said, then seemed to fall asleep.
“What is the Beebeesee?” Vasiliy asked.
Ana sighed and looked at Timofey. He was going to have one hell of a family to out up with.
Three months later, they touched down in Montreal airport, papers declaring them political refugees in hand, and Anastasiya Karamazov walked out into the chaos of a Canadian airport and into the slightly terrifying arms of her sponsors, the seemingly unending relatives of Henri Larivière, Timofey’s newly-minted uncle. Gods help her, for she was going to need it.
Do with this what you will. I am done with it.
---- DUUUUDE THIS IS GREAT THANK YOU FOR SHARING!!
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