[TMS] Good Omens quote
[Set in canon-ish. Dean is fullonobiwan and used with permission from his mun who made a request for a Dean/Bela future fic with the prompt “baseball cards.” Anyone else is an NPC. The tarot reading was taken from THIS website.]
“God does not play dice with the universe; He plays an ineffable game of his own devising, which might be compared, from the perspective of any of the other players [i.e., everybody], to being involved in an obscure and complex version of poker in a pitch-dark room, with blank cards, for infinite stakes, with a Dealer who won't tell you the rules, and who smiles all the time.”
“You know, I’m really starting to get sick of people hijacking my dreams.”
Bela looked up with a bit of a smirk, continuing to shuffle the cards in front of her. She was lounging in the against the wall next to the staircase. She wasn’t sure where this house was that Dean was envisioning, but there was a little boy and a woman to come home to-the American dream, complete with the white picket fence. It was nauseating, but admirable in a strange sort of way. The dream of someone who knew that either they were never going to get it, or they never had it to begin with. In the case of Dean Winchester, it was both, but she wasn’t going to push that now. Not unless he did. And apparently, he was going to pay some attention to it.
“And who says I’m hijacking?” she replied, continuing to shuffle the cards between her fingers. She glanced down, pulling out one of the baseball cards and bringing them to eye level, scanning it quietly for a moment. “This could be just a funny trick of your subconscious.”
“Trust me,” Dean snorted, taking a step closer to her and crossing his arms in front of his chest. “If I was dreaming about you? It wouldn’t be like this.”
“The torture route again, Dean?” She raised an eyebrow, looking him in the eye for the first time in a long time. She couldn’t do it the last time they saw each other. There was too much shame, too much pain. Looking in the eye of the person who’s torturing you took more stones than she had ever had, especially when it was someone who had been kind to you before, and you had only stabbed them in the back. She had always had a feeling that Dean had gone after her with a little extra zest whenever she happened to land on his rack. Now, though-now they were on the same plane. Now this was her invading him, in her own particular way, getting into the places where he never would have wanted her to go, and that was just as satisfying, even if it didn’t mean dragging a blade through his skin and listening to him scream. “Really, I think that’s a little old hat, don’t you?”
This time Dean was the first to look away, glancing back towards the child’s bedroom not far down the hall, taking the time to swallow and compose himself and push the memories and the guilt out of his mind. “What do you want, Bela? Land topside and decide to pay the guy who liked to tear you to pieces a visit-screw with his dreams and trap him in his own head so the angels can’t win?”
Bela arched an eyebrow slightly, before crossing her arms in front of her chest, cards still tucked in one of her hands. “And what makes you think that I’m working for Lucifer? What would be in it for me?”
Dean arched an eyebrow, his eyes snapping back to her. “You’re a demon now, right? What wouldn’t be in it for you?”
“Oh, Dean,” she said with a bit of a chuckle. “The things you don’t know could fill book.” She took a bit of a step forward, starting to play with the cards again. “I’m not a demon. And before you ask, I’m not still in Hell either. Why do you think I would waste my time dream-walking to talk to you, when I could just track you down in person as a demon?”
“So what, that means you’re-”
“Human? Entirely.” The look in his eyes was asking her how, and she just smirked before responding. “I have your friend Castiel to thank for that. By the time the angels actually finished fighting through Hell in order to get to you, they were so desperate to get you out, that they got a little-sloppy. The soul you were currently tearing in to-quite literally in fact, you rather did like getting your hands dirty-got dragged along with you.”
She watched as he processed that, turning the information over in his head, before snapping his eyes back to her, almost as though he was trying to push it away. “That still doesn’t change the question-what the hell are you doing in my head, Bela?”
She sighed as she straightened again. “I have information for you. About-”
“About the Colt? Yeah, we tracked down your buddy Crowly already. We had a real nice chat about the whole thing.”
“-about the end, Dean,” she finished, giving him a bit of a look. “You always were so impatient. Always-firing off to early.” She loaded just enough innuendo on to that to piss him off, before he rolled his eyes and crossed his arms in front of his chest.
“Look, if you don’t mind, I’d kind of like to enjoy what’s left of this dream, so if you have something relevant to say, just spit it out already.”
She sighed heavily, before the world suddenly changed around them, landing them in a dimly lit room, and sitting a table covered in a dark-colored table cloth. Dean blinked at her, confused, but she didn’t even bat an eyelash, just reached forward and placed the cards in her hand down in front of him.
“Cut the cards.”
Dean looked down, and raised an eyebrow. “Baseball cards, Bela?”
She just raised one right back. “Are they?”
He paused as he looked down again, before blinking in surprise as a full deck of Tarot cards was sitting there in front of him. “How the hell-?”
“I’ve been dream-walking for a long time, Dean. Did you really think that this is my first go round at the rodeo?” Dean just shook his head slightly, before reaching for the cards and doing as she instructed. “Remember to keep your question in mind.” He gave her a look indicating that this wasn’t the first time he’d gotten his fortune read, before sliding the deck back to her.
She just smirked slightly, taking the deck from him, dealing out the three cards as per usual. She laid them out in front of her, watching for a moment too long before Dean started to get antsy. “Well? What do they say?”
“This one-Knight of Wands. Indicates the past of someone who had a zest for life. Enjoyed it when they could, took what they can, an abundant need for a constant change of place and people.” Her fingers then moved over to the card in the middle, pointing down and tapping it lightly. “This is the Nine of Wands. It indicates preparation-a gathering of numbers on two sides of a struggle.”
“Both of which I know already. Just cut to the chase, Bela, I don’t have time for this bullshit.”
“Fine,” she sighed, before reaching over to tap the last card. “The Wheel of Fortune.”
“Which means?”
“It deals with destiny, Dean. Karma on a grand scale. In this position, it indicates success, happiness, and good fortune.”
Dean was silent for a long time, before looking up at her again. “For me or for him?”
Bela just smirked slowly, before crossing her arms in front of her chest, and leaning back in her seat. “I don’t know the question, Dean. When this is over, why don’t you tell me.”
1241 words
“God does not play dice with the universe; He plays an ineffable game of his own devising, which might be compared, from the perspective of any of the other players [i.e., everybody], to being involved in an obscure and complex version of poker in a pitch-dark room, with blank cards, for infinite stakes, with a Dealer who won't tell you the rules, and who smiles all the time.”
“You know, I’m really starting to get sick of people hijacking my dreams.”
Bela looked up with a bit of a smirk, continuing to shuffle the cards in front of her. She was lounging in the against the wall next to the staircase. She wasn’t sure where this house was that Dean was envisioning, but there was a little boy and a woman to come home to-the American dream, complete with the white picket fence. It was nauseating, but admirable in a strange sort of way. The dream of someone who knew that either they were never going to get it, or they never had it to begin with. In the case of Dean Winchester, it was both, but she wasn’t going to push that now. Not unless he did. And apparently, he was going to pay some attention to it.
“And who says I’m hijacking?” she replied, continuing to shuffle the cards between her fingers. She glanced down, pulling out one of the baseball cards and bringing them to eye level, scanning it quietly for a moment. “This could be just a funny trick of your subconscious.”
“Trust me,” Dean snorted, taking a step closer to her and crossing his arms in front of his chest. “If I was dreaming about you? It wouldn’t be like this.”
“The torture route again, Dean?” She raised an eyebrow, looking him in the eye for the first time in a long time. She couldn’t do it the last time they saw each other. There was too much shame, too much pain. Looking in the eye of the person who’s torturing you took more stones than she had ever had, especially when it was someone who had been kind to you before, and you had only stabbed them in the back. She had always had a feeling that Dean had gone after her with a little extra zest whenever she happened to land on his rack. Now, though-now they were on the same plane. Now this was her invading him, in her own particular way, getting into the places where he never would have wanted her to go, and that was just as satisfying, even if it didn’t mean dragging a blade through his skin and listening to him scream. “Really, I think that’s a little old hat, don’t you?”
This time Dean was the first to look away, glancing back towards the child’s bedroom not far down the hall, taking the time to swallow and compose himself and push the memories and the guilt out of his mind. “What do you want, Bela? Land topside and decide to pay the guy who liked to tear you to pieces a visit-screw with his dreams and trap him in his own head so the angels can’t win?”
Bela arched an eyebrow slightly, before crossing her arms in front of her chest, cards still tucked in one of her hands. “And what makes you think that I’m working for Lucifer? What would be in it for me?”
Dean arched an eyebrow, his eyes snapping back to her. “You’re a demon now, right? What wouldn’t be in it for you?”
“Oh, Dean,” she said with a bit of a chuckle. “The things you don’t know could fill book.” She took a bit of a step forward, starting to play with the cards again. “I’m not a demon. And before you ask, I’m not still in Hell either. Why do you think I would waste my time dream-walking to talk to you, when I could just track you down in person as a demon?”
“So what, that means you’re-”
“Human? Entirely.” The look in his eyes was asking her how, and she just smirked before responding. “I have your friend Castiel to thank for that. By the time the angels actually finished fighting through Hell in order to get to you, they were so desperate to get you out, that they got a little-sloppy. The soul you were currently tearing in to-quite literally in fact, you rather did like getting your hands dirty-got dragged along with you.”
She watched as he processed that, turning the information over in his head, before snapping his eyes back to her, almost as though he was trying to push it away. “That still doesn’t change the question-what the hell are you doing in my head, Bela?”
She sighed as she straightened again. “I have information for you. About-”
“About the Colt? Yeah, we tracked down your buddy Crowly already. We had a real nice chat about the whole thing.”
“-about the end, Dean,” she finished, giving him a bit of a look. “You always were so impatient. Always-firing off to early.” She loaded just enough innuendo on to that to piss him off, before he rolled his eyes and crossed his arms in front of his chest.
“Look, if you don’t mind, I’d kind of like to enjoy what’s left of this dream, so if you have something relevant to say, just spit it out already.”
She sighed heavily, before the world suddenly changed around them, landing them in a dimly lit room, and sitting a table covered in a dark-colored table cloth. Dean blinked at her, confused, but she didn’t even bat an eyelash, just reached forward and placed the cards in her hand down in front of him.
“Cut the cards.”
Dean looked down, and raised an eyebrow. “Baseball cards, Bela?”
She just raised one right back. “Are they?”
He paused as he looked down again, before blinking in surprise as a full deck of Tarot cards was sitting there in front of him. “How the hell-?”
“I’ve been dream-walking for a long time, Dean. Did you really think that this is my first go round at the rodeo?” Dean just shook his head slightly, before reaching for the cards and doing as she instructed. “Remember to keep your question in mind.” He gave her a look indicating that this wasn’t the first time he’d gotten his fortune read, before sliding the deck back to her.
She just smirked slightly, taking the deck from him, dealing out the three cards as per usual. She laid them out in front of her, watching for a moment too long before Dean started to get antsy. “Well? What do they say?”
“This one-Knight of Wands. Indicates the past of someone who had a zest for life. Enjoyed it when they could, took what they can, an abundant need for a constant change of place and people.” Her fingers then moved over to the card in the middle, pointing down and tapping it lightly. “This is the Nine of Wands. It indicates preparation-a gathering of numbers on two sides of a struggle.”
“Both of which I know already. Just cut to the chase, Bela, I don’t have time for this bullshit.”
“Fine,” she sighed, before reaching over to tap the last card. “The Wheel of Fortune.”
“Which means?”
“It deals with destiny, Dean. Karma on a grand scale. In this position, it indicates success, happiness, and good fortune.”
Dean was silent for a long time, before looking up at her again. “For me or for him?”
Bela just smirked slowly, before crossing her arms in front of her chest, and leaning back in her seat. “I don’t know the question, Dean. When this is over, why don’t you tell me.”
1241 words