#boy is 100 years old and he didn't do his own research before going to Italy

[runedtarot]

I need New Moon from Edward's perspective bc I need to know just how monumentally he was fucking up the tracking and imagining going home to Bella and I also need a New Moon AU where he DOES end up having to turn up at her window to beg LIKE HE DESERVED

[thenookspace]

Adding on to this bc the au lives rent free and is brushing narrative crumbs onto my couch: LONG POST AHOY

mentioned in the tags of the last post that the jedi in this au are a sorta organised community of sirens but it's still undecided on how the jedi transform from taily scaley hypercarnivorous fishy horrors but for now it's a spell/potion or other ocean magic bs which - for Plot Reasons - has a distinct 12 hour time limit and reset period

meaning that all jedi have a day/night to break it down human style before they have to haul their fishy asses back to the sea before they turn into sea foam or get fish-outed and put everyone in danger

that being said, the jedi that do go to shore absolutely get up to the most wacky not-possible-in-the-sea human bullshit ever

for instance: Mace Windu uses Surface Time to become an underground musical theatre star

Plo Koon somehow has a fully legitimate pilot's licence despite not knowing shit about everything that comes before the certificate-of-flying-deathcraft (he takes his buddies up for joyrides and nobody questions how he flies the aircraft or even if he actually owns the damn thing)

Kit Fisto doesn't like being on land (something something "public" something something "indecency") but he's friends with the local cave diving team

Yoda surfaces out of the Midnight Zone mostly to beat the shit out of seabirds

Anakin "secretly" visits Padme whenever Leg Day rolls around bc the doofus assumed that human-siren relationships were forbidden (not if your human can keep their mouth shut!)

he usually vents to his ol' friend Palpatine who "accidentally" saw him transforming one night but has just been so supportive ever since! absolutely no bad intentions! not even a whiff of "bulldoze the town to build a research facility filled with kidnapped sirens who he'll find by promising Anakin that the Horrible Vivisections will find a way for him to be with Padme forever" on him!! just a trustworthy old town mayor doing town mayor things!

(forewarning: nothing too awful happens in this au due to Fox&Padme lawyer shenanigans and my own inability to make sad endings)

meanwhile, for those who have legs

couldn't decide whether the mandatory Fett Family Business is a music shop - think vinyls, strings, guitars and One Lone Piano in the corner that Nobody is allowed to play (it was Jaster's) - or a myriad of various Ocean Things and decided to fuck it all and do both bc when you have that many brothers/half-brothers/cousins/family friends/family friend's kids/people you aren't sure about but are probably related to/people who definitely aren't related to you but just won't fuck off, you have options

eg, Monnk is def on the aforementioned cave diving team (he's 500% Kit's supplier for Weird Human Shit)

Wolffe and the Pack are in maritime search&rescue (they taught Plo how to fly thinking it would be funny until he fuckin adopted them)

Alpha 17 is the local lighthouse keeper who just wants the bloody sea raccoons (Very Curious sirens that he gives Very Few Shits about) to get out of his trash

and Fox is underpaid overworked mayor's aide who would've fucked off to the lighthouse already if he didn't know that Palpatine would flatten everyone if Fox wasn't there to 'forget' the contact details of every major land developer in the area

@cosmic-j0ke speculated that Jango might already know about the sirens bc of a tragic accident years ago and due to that being a fucking fantastic point it's 100% canon to the au now everybody give them a round of applause

the incident in question involved the disappearance/deaths of Jaster and the crew of Jaster's fishing vessel off the coast of Galidraan that left Jango obsessed with hunting "sirens" that everybody assumes were figments of a traumatised child's imagination

Dooku swore up and down he had acted in self-defense but was still banished from any jedi territories after he rescued and returned the deliriously dehydrated human boy he had found in the hold

was also kinda conflicted about whether Jango should still be obsessed with sirens to the detriment of Everyone but then I remembered that this is a literary cotton ball so Jango gets to mellow out on the mer-murdering after a while due to the stress of raising a metric assload of kids

+ all the niblings/little cousins/people you hired to help you hunt sirens who stuck around/their kids/ etc

but not before getting really into music engineering in an attempt to reverse engineer siren song

which becomes a surprisingly handy party trick when starting a music shop

fast forward to present day Cody mostly runs the music shop due to being the only one actually interested in dealing with People on Land all day long

he occasionally sprinkles in some lifeguarding because it's easy money to babysit a town of people who were all swimming before they could walk

but he has a Problem

the younger Fett & co kids have been kicking up a storm lately about learning the piano and getting curious about Jaster's Piano (dun dun dun) that Cody and the others never learned to play over the course of their Very Different childhoods (that will definitely never become an emotional plot point ahaha)

(not sure where tf any ''younger members" of the Fett extended family network would come from or even which characters they are - Boba and Omega are easy options, Omega is Hunter's kid no muss no fuss but Boba is a difficult one considering that Jango is theoretically too old for young kids in this au if Cody, Rex, Wolffe, Fox and co are all adults, will need some help here)

mystery child origins aside the kids are too young to be at sea so they're stuck with Cody and his soft heart in the shop when they start getting big piano-based ideas

ofc after folding like a house of cards and cursing out the kids' new preference for keys instead of string instruments like Good and Reasonable Fetts, Cody goes looking for a piano tutor and bargain deals on cheap eBay keyboards (he won't touch Jaster's piano bc that hurt is more a family heirloom than the instrument itself)

the keyboards are easy to get a hold of aside from exorbitant shipping prices (the irony), but a tutor willing to brave Jango??? might as well mail a craigslist ad to the bottom of the fucking ocean

so Cody's seriously considering pulling an Alpha 17 and fucking off to the lighthouse or sucking it up and learning piano (Alexa play Surface Pressure)

until he's lifeguarding (read: stress napping) one day and wakes to the most ~enchanting~ song from a nearby busker (he's dressed like a forlorn english professor who forgot the memo about pants but oh boy is he Beautiful), who's playing the most decrepit, water-damaged nasty looking keyboard Cody's ever seen

(Obi-wan found it in the Human Waste Box and he's incredibly proud of all the magic/non-magic modifications, he put those barnacles there himself!)

half an hour and one job offer later the tourist (???) is following Cody back to the shop and lessons are going swimmingly (HA)

obv Obi-wan has no idea how to actually play the keyboard, much less teach anyone anything but Seabed Radio's 40 Hottest Whale Songs but the kids are having enough fun to stop them snitching and Cody has conked out from post-Task adrenaline crash and could not care less about the gorgeous man in his shop teaching his little siblings piano (but he will!)

Jango, however, immediately clocks Obi-Wan as a Fish and spends the entire time seething at Obi-wan's very obvious siren-ness, Cody's obliviousness to Obi-wan's very obvious siren-nessand everyone else's wilful ignorance to Obi-wan's very obvious siren-ness bc he makes Cody happy and Jango's conniptions are funny

this is the end for now bc tumblr text limit hates me but next on the agenda: the actual fucking Plot!

God fucking damnit I misread sith Obi-wan as siren Obi-wan ONCE and now I have THOUGHTS about small town siren Obi-wan disguising himself as an eccentric music tutor/boardwalk busker to explore the ~human world~

[theheartlandsblog]

How did you come up with Adrik? He seems very interesting and stoic

hullo, anon! =)

this is gonna sound SO nerdy, i'm 100% aware of how nerdy it sounds, y'all can go ahead and mention how nerdy it is, i get it. but honestly? adrik started as literally just me wanting to learn to read and speak russian. ('T᷄⌑T᷅) from there, i wanted sincerely to create an outlet for that learning desire, in a way that A. was historically plausible, and B. was as nuanced and NOT stereotypical as possible!

more detail on all that below the cut, if you're interested, and willing to read a lot! thank you for asking about my darling boy! <3

i think i have always enjoyed just learning on my own terms, anyway. i had atrocious grades in high school and was abysmal in my japanese classes, but as soon as i got out of formal schooling, i started getting VORACIOUS about learning. yes. yep. i know it's nerdy. i'd always wanted to speak another language besides english, and i still do, which is why i study both russian and spanish, just cause i want to. so that's where it started - wanting to learn the language.

as all good writing projects begin, it started getting serious one day in the shower, i think it was shortly after or shortly before i had published my first complete RDR fanfic (the name is DUST, it's a little out there, but i am dearly fond of it), i was thinking about writing in general while i was in there, and thought to myself well, wouldn't it be interesting to write in a different language?

then i started reading the works of cormac mccarthy, an american author whose works are thoroughly bilingual in spanish/english, and it FASCINATED me. i'd published 2 RDR fics at that point, i think? and i started committing to language learning. i started with spanish in my fic called SAND (also pretty out there, again, just a warning) but i quickly remembered how i wanted to learn russian too. so i started researching on if russian immigrants came to the united states in the 1800s, to see if i could theoretically include the language into an RDR fic in a realistic manner/presence; to my utmost joy i absolutely could, and the thought-project took off. ;)

he stuck around as a stored-away project until i got the idea for HOMEWARD, i think that was late 2022, and THAT idea came to me while i was replaying the mission where you fetch john from the mountains in the beginning of RDR2. i'd never made an OC so detailed before and i wanted to ensure that whatever home of thought and writing he'd be born into would be properly big enough to house him when he got older. i didn't want to just throw an OC in willy-nilly! in the meantime (fair warning, i'm about to get a little preachy) i'd been inspired character-development-wise by creating someone who was an antithesis to the usual stereotype over in the united states about a russian person, or just kinda russia in general. you know, kind of a drunkard, loud, unintelligent, cruel. i wanted someone who felt like a real person, who was a victim of circumstance, who had an unlikely friend and a vast soul, someone who, like you said, was interesting! i'd decided on creating a russian character before the whole terrible war escalation broke out, but when it did, i think it made me even more determined. i mentioned it in my last ask but i'm ukrainian from my dad's side, so it's a matter close to home.

so, anon, that's his IRL backstory! it's how him and i met. <3 as for him, as a character, his story? i actually have a chapter in HOMEWARD planned for just that! now, though? the time has not yet come... (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧ but i can tell you a little. <3 he's forty-two years old in 1899/during the current events of HOMEWARD, and he was born on january 6th, in 1857. i call him "old" all the time only because with the life expectancy of the way he's lived, he's ancient. he's five-feet-eleven-inches tall, and he met annushka in the old country. he's stoic now, like you said, and standoffish as a general rule, but there is so, soooo much more personality in him that i pinky-promise will come out as my story progresses and as he settles in. he's had a brush with scurvy, a run-in with the law, and once upon a time lived upon the longest river in russia. him and i are very eager to tell stories. Вот он! Спасибо <3

[boop-le-snoot]

masterpost • main masterlist • taglist & faq

previously on...

Chapter 3 is finally here. Sorcerers need their shopping done, too. Beyonce/Wong platonic ship (joking)! And finally some action, more witchy stuff. Bucky whump because I have a saviour complex. Stucky cuteness moment. Some blood/gore in this chapter.

My insides clenched, seeing the yellow and blue notice taped to my door - the building manager rarely left notes, so whatever it was, it wasn't going to be good. I had managed to wind myself up into an anxious frenzy by the time I had gone inside and locked my door behind me, immediately thinking I would have to exhaust myself by turning to magic to keep a roof over my head.

For once, the news turned out to be positive: a neighbor was being evicted and turned in to the police for stealing packages. The building manager urged the tenants to report any missing items and apply for a refund when possible, apologizing for the inconvenience. I wondered what prompted this, basically unheard of in NYC, act of kindness as my altar stared at me with mocking amusement, pointing out the obvious by its mere presence.

Grinning to myself, I texted Odette - predictably, she was happy for me, happy that my protection spell had turned out strong and steady, and added a few tips of her own for my spell to stay that way. It felt like I'd grown invisible wings, those days, with all the possibilities open - and never once did I let myself entertain a thought of getting back at an enemy of the past for longer than five seconds.

Sure, it was perfectly human to consider making the cheating ex go bankrupt or make sure the college professor, that failed a couple of students each semester as a 'reality check', trips and face-plants at least once a day... I mean, who wouldn't experience a malicious sort of joy from petty revenge?

But I found my powers were best applied with a positive result in mind. My friend's cat was the first test rat- I mean, living creature I had practiced my healing spells on. The eleven year old kitty was struggling and both me and my friend loved the critter dearly - so the short, but tiring spell I performed yielded exactly the results I was expecting. Odette said something about genuine love backing up the magic, and- well, Dumbledore much?

On humans, it turned out, it wasn't nearly as simple. I didn't know what I had expected would happen after performing nothing short of a whole improv-performace type of ritual right in front of my very puzzled but hopeful friend with chronic asthma, but it wasn't the sheer exhaustion that ran bone-deep and left me bedridden for a whole day.

Odette visited my dingy apartment with her signature enormous purse full of vials she spoon-fed me and trinkets she strategically placed in and around my immediate sleeping area. "There, there," the woman patted my head as I pitifully moaned at the ear-splitting headache. "The first one is always the most challenging. After all, if it would be easy, everyone would do it."

I understood that. But at the same time, it felt unfair that no good deed went unpunished. I told Odette so, raising my voice to the best of my ability as she rummaged around my kitchen.

"Nothing in this world comes out of thin air, whatever you decide to give has to be taken from somewhere," she explained patiently. "People like us are considered hedge witches. We do solitary work and draw most of our energy from the Earth, from mother Nature. We cannot perform miracles, however, the cost of our spells are very low," I felt an immediate peak of interest at the simple yet effective explaination she gave me. "We remain mostly human. Gaia* is kind and generous to the ones who pay respect," Odette continued over the clatter of pans and pots. "There are other kinds of witches - who take from other people, who take from the dead. But taking something by force always leaves scars and taking something from the dead means bringing a piece of them back to places it should not be."

I pondered the words as Odette brought the kettle to a boil, the whistling shriek piercing through my skull like a sharp projectile. "What about Voodoo practitioners?" I couldn't hold back my curiosity.

Odette cleared her throat. "What is left of them is mostly not human. Their gifts are great but the costs are greater. They can live far, far longer than the average witch but their souls will know no peace, just like the souls of the dead they anchor to themselves over time," Odette entered the room with a bowl of tangy, creamy liquid that smelled like pumpkin soup. "We do not bestow any judgement upon our brothers and sisters but it is our duty to inform the young." She cast a pointed glance towards me, passing me the soup and a wooden spoon I didn't know I had. "This should help you recover. Take tomorrow off if needs be."

She left shortly afterwards and I hadn't much strength than to use the bathroom, wash the rune-engraved spoon and curl up in my bed, only waking up when the meager light shone over my face from the window. Sleepy and fog-tinted, the early morning NYC was damp and windy as I stuck my head out of the window to soak my sleep-heated head in the cool air.

As uneventful as the day at the café was, I still wasn't up to 100% energy-wise, but the long walk from Jeremy's to Odette's was pleasantly invigorating. I didn't find the cold autumn moisture displeasing; the small raindrops kept me awake and alert. Odette nodded in muted pleasure as I clocked in and returned the special spoon back to her. The runes on it were interesting; I had taken a picture of them for research purposes, fully intending to craft myself something similar.

"Odette has taken on an apprentice," Wong's voice had me take in several deep breaths in preparation for the inevitable fuck-fest on my patience. "She has been avoiding me. And the girl is painfully slow."

I didn't hear the answer of Wong's companion over the rustling of the boxes I was hastily shoving in their places before the Asian man's temper grew foul. More foul. Ugh. The sharp ding of the bell had me yelling a, "Just a second please, I'll be right with you," while trying to keep my tone polite.

Wong's sour face and a list of items required greeted me as I flew out of the backrooms, noticing the locked doors of Odette's office on my way out. Wong's companion stood at the far end of the store - his robes quite different from the ones I'd seen people of their kind wear, his lithe, tall figure seeming strangely familiar. I squinted my eyes at his back. "Is this all you need?" I waved the list around, increasing the volume of my voice.

The tall man turned around and I could only gape. He, in turn, also froze, the stern, unfriendly expression losing heat and giving way to perplexed wonder. "I had placed an order, for sorcerer Strange," Tony's boyfriend eyed me somewhat sheepishly under Wong's concerned gaze.

I nodded, eyeing Wong in turn, letting satisfaction nestle a warm ball in my chest. Stephen's look of displeasure had turned onto his... Colleague. By the time I finished retrieving Strange's order and packing up the items on Wong's list, the Asian man had left, leaving Stephen to sheepishly pretend to examine the books on the furthest shelf. I waved the paper bags as he took long strides towards me, his fancy, large necklace glimmering under the lights.

"So, how long have you been working here?" Sorcerer Strange asked after I told him the total.

The cash register beeped loudly, coins clattering on the desk as I counted out his change. "Some time now," I shrugged noncommittally. I felt his magnetic eyes gloss over my adornments, the star necklace, the various rings; I could practically feel him coming to his own conclusions. "Long enough for your colleague to get an attitude with me," I had to make sure he knew I would be taking no bullshit from him - or anyone else, for that matter. Odette's opinion on his kind was firm and I was heavily inclined to agree.

"Hmm, I see," Strange was equally as keen on hiding his curiosity. It was a funny thing, really, that we, being adults that we were, treated this encounter like some sort of a dirty secret. "Don't take it personally. Wong is like that with everyone," The man briefly scratched his beard with a gloved hand before pocketing his change and picking up the bags. "Except Beyoncè, maybe," the wink he threw me was positively mischievous as it caught me off-guard, giving him a fox-like appearance.

I sighed as the door shut behind him. Pretty white boys - the ultimate human disasters.

I had no time to dwell on them, however, as something - or someone, hit downtown with all the malicious intentions to wreak havoc on the innocent civilians calmly going about their day. Mutants and people who knew Odette came in hordes, scrapes and bruises and strange wounds that required imminent healing.

My boss was no rookie, she dutifully accepted each and every single soul, looking worse for wear with each minute. Not being able to withstand seeing her drain herself, I simply took over the simplest tasks - and she said nothing, just gave me a nod, instructed to use whatever I needed and write it down somewhere along with the name of the person who required the healing.

As the battle raged, the crowds thinned but the ones who managed to come to Odette's spouted more serious wounds, obviously a result of them fighting back. Mutants covered head to toe with coats and hats and robes, for me to swallow my shock when they undressed - horns, tails and weird skin textures were on the far end of the normal. I dutifully extracted small pieces of information from each and every person I treated.

Yes, the Avengers were winning. No, there aren't many people hurt, most of the damage is cosmetic. Yes, the villain of the week is as stupid as usual. It was like a mantra. Odette poked her head into the spare room every now and then, her eagle eyes briefly scanning over me to make sure I wasn't exterting myself.

As I applied the healing salve to a tiny, pink-skinned woman, bandaging up her hands, my boss entered and closed the door behind her, setting down on the creaky chair with a loud thud. "Just got the news, the Avengers apprehended the terrorist," she sighed long and slow. "We've done all we could, the next few days I'll be handling house calls so you'll be here on your own. I'll probably see you in a few days, don't hesitate to give me a call if something comes up," Odette seemed to be barely standing up, yet when she tore off a few pieces of her jewelry and chucked them into a big tin can under the sink, the glossy sheen in her eyes melted away.

"Okay," I mumbled under the watchful eyes of the mutant woman. "Will there be more people coming in today?"

"No," the woman in front of me snorted. "SHIELD is prowling the streets. They are not fond of us, they always say we intervene unnecessarily even though we willingly do their dirty work so our children could be safe," the bitter, harsh tone took me off-guard.

I had to admit, there was reason behind her words. "Will you be able to get home safely? I have a puffy coat and a hat you can borrow." Figuring an expensive taxi ride would be a better alternative to something terrible happening to the woman, I offered her my winter clothes.

She smiled at me, razor blade teeth and large, red eyes the kindest I'd ever seen on a person. In the end, she took the clothes, promising to bring them back in a few days and Odette gave me a parka that was too small for her frame - despite it smelling like someone's grandma's attic, I found it to be quite lovely vintage. The puffy knitted scarf she added felt like warmth and safety - she had to have knitted it herself, for I knew, handmade items carried a significant amount of energy in them.

The shop was eerily quiet as I cleaned and scrubbed the stained, dirty floors and disposed of the bloody clothes and bandages in the tiny, odd fireplace in Odette's office - that was a thing most peculiar, it burned everything I put in it, but had no chimney, no place for the smoke to exit. Magic.

Something banged loudly against the entrance door. I let out a startled shriek, broomstick falling out of my hand and adding to the sudden cacophony of noise as the figure behind the stained glass slowly slid down the door, a deep, male voice groaning something incomprehensible loud enough for me to hear.

Grabbing a large serrated knife we used for mincing the bones of small animals, I made quiet steps towards the door, seeing a large, obviously humanoid figure helplessly lean on the door. The man's arm glinted chrome black and gunmetal grey in the low light. "Sargent Barnes? Bucky?" I whisper-shouted, carefully plying open the door.

He lifted his head, blood dripping down from it, his face looked like someone went to town on it with a meat mullet, his eyes were unfocused and couldn't keep a straight line. His flesh arm leaned heavily on the door frame, the prosthetic hanging limply, dragging his whole body to its side. It must've weigh a ton.

"Я должен найти капитана Роджерса," he whispered.

I didn't understand Russian at all but I could make out the name of his boyfriend. Which made sense. Bucky looked severely concussed - I idly wondered what exactly they had been fighting, what could have given a freaking super-soldier such a brain-leaking injury. "Sargent Barnes, follow me," I put on my big girl shoes and used my momma bear voice, towing the man behind me.

He, too, weighed a ton, as I stumbled, helping him into the chair in the spare room that became my healing station for today. The longer I looked at Bucky, the less lucid he grew, eyes falling shut as he murmured something in jagged Russian, slurring his words.

There was no time to think about the consequences of exposure of my witchcraft; mortar and pestle, herbs and salves flying everywhere, I assembled a healing spell and memorized the according ritual in what felt like record time. He was bleeding all over the chair, fresh crimson blood pouring out of his nose and mouth and it was all I could see.

I hadn't known true terror until the blood that poured out turned black. Whatever it was in him, it was poisonous - my protection charms grew hot, scalding as they left marks on my skin; powering through the pain and unable to turn my eyes off the convulsing Barnes, I finished the chant just as the flow of vile, tar-like liquid suddenly ceased. It pooled around his feet, dripped down the armrests and matted his long hair. It reeked, too, of copper and putrid meat.

Bucky had passed out somewhere mid-spell, the slow, steady breathing bringing me my own sense of calm. To say that I was drained would be an understatement - my vision swam and my world spun on it's axis as I unlocked Odette's office to messily rummage through a cabinet for the emergency tonic I knew she kept there. I chugged the vial, an avalanche of almost anxious, jittery energy hit me like a freight train - exactly what I needed.

I bought myself a couple hours of time. Cleaning up the sludge around Bucky's feet and removing the outer parts of his gear was easy as he remained as relaxed as a cooked spaghetti noodle. The amount of weapons he had on him was impressive, but those weren't what I was looking for - his phone. It was dead, so I plugged it in, waiting for the 5% to show and bringing it to his fingertips, hoping he used the print recognition instead of the password option... And I lucked out.

"Hello, this is Star, I found a Bucky. Tell Dr. Strange to come get him, he knows where I am." I texted the "Stevie ❤️" contact, my inner fangirl self squealing at the dorky name of his boyfriend's contact in Bucky's phone. Shortly afterwards, I went ahead and snapped a picture of myself next to sleeping Bucky, figuring out some actual proof wouldn't do any harm in this bizarre situation.

The answer didn't let me wait long. "10 minutes" came the first text, and shortly afterwards - "Is Bucky okay??????". I had to snort at the amount of question marks before honestly replying "He will be ☺️" and putting the phone back in Bucky's pocket. I cleaned up and attempted to lift Bucky up, succeeding in waking him up into a half-lucid state, probably courtesy of decades of training and whatnot, to at least drag him to the front of the store. I wasn't particularly comfortable with strangers seeing the backrooms.

Bucky leaned with his back against the counter, ass flat on the floor and a towel with a cold compress pressed to his head when the doors all but flew open, revealing Captain Rogers, still in uniform and Stephen Strange, arguing with his boyfriend, both still suited up and bloody and grimy.

"Uhh," I blinked owlishly, causing the men to stop bickering and stare first at me, then at Bucky. "I think he hit his head," I offered weakly, backing up slightly at the amount of burning eyes staring at me.

"Shortcake, that you?" Tony's eyebrows rose as he surveyed the bodega, the items on the shelves, the black and red blood stains on my previously pristine, yellow shirt.

"Now is not the time, Tony. Go with Rogers, make sure the medical is prepared for Barnes and disable his arm," Strange barked out authoritatively, shooting me a puzzled but compassionate look. "The portal is open. I'll talk to Star, find out what happened." He advanced towards me as Captain picked up Bucky bridal-style as tenderly as he could while making sure the compress stayed on.

"Keep that tone fo the bedroom," Tony's voice was more than displeased as he shot me and Strange a hurt look, but followed Steve into the golden circle right outside the door before it sparked shut.

"Now, now, what happened here?" The sorcerer's voice lowered into a soothing drawl as I let out the breath I didn't know I was holding. My shoulders sagged, fingers twitching with anxious energy. The man extended a gloved hand, briefly squeezing my shoulder. "It's alright, take your time."

Damn, did I look that bad?

Taglist: @couldntbedamned @mikariell95 @letsby @sleep-i-ness @toomanyrobins @mostly-marvel-musings @persephonehemingway @schemefrenzy @lillsxd @bluecrazedandbeautiful @slothspaghettiwrites

[mevekagvain]

Chapter 93 - Fancy chair, love it.

- So my theory is that Raizel just never learnt how to write in Lukedonian either.

- Tbh the janitor is suspicious. Like how hard was he googling M-21?

Chapter 94 - SUYIIIIIIIIIIII

- Ah geez the first of the racistly depicted characters.

Chapter 96 - Suyi getting mad at the kids for complaining about Hansu is so funny like when she first appears you think she's perhaps a stuck up celebrity or a pushover but it turns out she's just a really sweet friend.

- Suyi being stunned by Rai's looks but not falling for him (same with Yuna) is one of the things I always liked about Noblesse. Like sure in the first meeting they get blushy but I'll just jot that down to the inherent beauty of nobles since I can't relate to it at all.

Chapter 97 - Frankenstein's house always being stocked with so much food because the kids just started coming over daily is hilarious. Even funnier since Frankenstein obviously thinks it's overkill but is the one stocking up anyway.

Chapter 98 - Regis and Seira 🥺 Seira's og outfit was the best one she had like it only goes downhill from here folks.

Chapter 99 - It would have been so funny if Frankenstein went "they must be cosplayers" instead of realising the two were nobles.

- Regis taking all the initiative shows how it's his roadtrip coming of age journey which is pretty clever. Also Seira's just like that but still.

- Shinwoo stop exercising in class bro. Do not flex on the rest of us this is so rude 😭😭😭

- Regis confidently saying he's a noble in class to humans he doesn't plan on mind controlling... Baby boy why are you so dumb? How is this hiding your identity??? And Seira just lets him,,, good for her.

Chapter 100 - Ah yes their elegance boner at seeing Raizel... nobles are so fucking weird.

- M-21 thinking he won't get any information because of his time at the Union and thus being surprised at how open Frankenstein is is actually really sweet. Like yeah I still think Frankenstein is an unethical and questionable person but he is kind to most humans (werewolves and nobles can go fuck themselves I guess lmao).

Chapter 101 - The second hand embarrassment I felt when M-21 called the two noblesse... how do I even consume content?

- Yeah 100% most union members don't know the difference between nobles and vampires. I bet they'd classify jiangshi as either mutants or werewolves. Or to be more specific, that would be the classification given to low leveled members. On one hand I think it's dumb that the Union gives members twisted information because how would they even use it? But on the other hand it makes sense since it prevents said members from seeking nobles for help. After all, if they believe even the 'noblesse' are vampires that drink blood, than obviously they won't see them as possible escape routes.

- 'Noblesse only applies to one person'. Yeah because Rai's brother is fucking dead. And so is whoever was his predecessor/parent.

Chapter 102 - Those bullies got backup so fucking fast like Shinwoo literally just asked Regis and Seira if they were okay then boom! They're back.

Chapter 103- Regis going ??? essentially when Shinwoo tells him to take care of Seira is so funny like yes ofc he's confused she's literally a clan leader + noble females aren't physically weaker + noble women work out just like the men.

- Rude, Regis. You can't just ask someone why they're mingling among humans. You're doing that too. Who doesn't mingle among humans smh. Even cats and pigeons mingle with us.

Chapter 105 - Love how everyone else in the household is so sick of ramyeon like Raizel stop please you're being selfish.

Chapter 106 - Frankenstein is the definition of the 'right in front of my salad?' meme at Regis and M-21 arguing at the dinner table. Then there's Seira and Raizel just waiting for the noodles to get soggy so he can't even eat. Wish Urokai could see him getting tortured like this.

- The soldier rejecting backup because he knows the enemy is the Union hurts my heart. Wanting to prevent casualties... iwi

Chapter 107 - Shark how tf do you not know about South Korea? That's one of the asian countries people actually know about. I guess maybe it's because this is from around a decade back? K-pop is more recent and made the country more visible I guess.

- Ah yes Takeo. Forever known as "the first time I read Noblesse and he appeared I thought he was Marie's sister since they had the same hairstyle". Like I thought that before even learning about the Aris Taivra fiasco. My power 😔

- Oh don't worry M-21, Frankenstein stopped experimenting on people 830 years ago. You know, as one does.

Chapter 108 - Shark has like no general knowledge. Geography? History? Tf is that I guess.

- Tao saying they're the worst possible people for the job is so funny like yeah he's right. "All we do is massacre people in warzones why are we in Seoul?"

- The rest of the squad complain or are confused about the peace meanwhile Takeo is vibing. He's the normal guy TM of the group.

- Ah yes noble lore. If you take canon at face value than the fact that nobles were around when humans first emerged and there being about 2-3 clan leaders before the current generation means you can estimate their lifespan. Ofc it differs wildly depending on how you interpret the 'first humans' part. I'll assume there were 3 generations before the current generation (mvp lord being the third generation) and won't be adding the current generation since a 0.5-2k years is kinda meaningless. I'll also be assuming that mvp lord entered eternal sleep at around the same age as his predecessors and that he would have died soon from old age anyway (since canonically they do have limited lifespans). If we assume it's just the first human ancestors (7 million years ago) than the average pureblood lifespan is 2.33 million years. If we assume it's when homo sapiens started to emerge (300k years ago) than it's 100k years. If it's about modern humans (130k years ago) than it's 43.3k years. Regardless I'll ignore it since my hcs are that nobles are effectively immortal unless killed and that the 2-3 clan leaders is a misconception due to a mix of Gechutel just straight up lying, because there are clans that have had fewer clan leaders, because I have nobles settling on Lukedonia only 30k years ago, and because Gechutel is factoring in his own age of 10.2k so it's more like 'There have been 2-3 Ru clan leaders before the Ru clan leader 10k years ago since after we settled in Lukedonia'. There's also the possibility that nobles didn't have lords or clan leaders until a few thousand years ago in canon but the species has existed for much longer.

- 'Nobles are individualistic... They don't despise humans but don't love them either.' Humans w/ ants. Now if the ants were capable of speaking with us it'd be exactly the same situation.

Chapter 109 - "What were they researching here?" Since when does the Union research anything aside from human modifications Kranz? Why do you even need to ask? More seriously this means that the Union doesn't actually only do human experimentation and weapons lmao. The other shit just isn't relevant I guess. It's a shame, I'd have loved to see how a lab focused on like, fixing up polluted waters, would be fit into the story.

- The fact that Tao beat Jake up is never mentioned enough. Also confirms that Jake was lying out of his ass about being the strongest.

- Marie being the weakest assassination squad member is interesting like I know why Crombel doesn't need bodyguards as the reader but you'd think the Union would be suspicious of him not having a stronger bodyguard. Also I still can't believe the Union doesn't bother learning who the members are aside from the ones Crombel tells them about like. Bro???

- Shark calling Takeo uptight is hilarious because the guy literally just shot the falling ceiling light which is the opposite of uptight. Either he was preventing them from getting hurt/being caught or he wanted that to happen considering the fact that he shot it and it shattered. And then he just goes back to leaning against the wall. Takeo please 🤣

Chapter 110 - And Shinwoo's still staying over at Ikhans place. Wonder when he's gonna move back. I really love their dynamic like yeah I beg my sister to get me food all the time too. Also love the apron and skeleton hoodie.

- Shinwoo went through the five stages of grief pretty quick huh? Like yeah it's his own misunderstanding that Ikhan is dating someone but still. Homophobia is annoying as always though.

Chapter 111 - Suyi paying for their food is so sweet of her and also I relate so much like yeah mood that's me and no I don't want to be paid back.

- Takeo,,, the fact that he just hands his wallet over because he doesn't like violence and doesn't want to beat them up,,, my heart. Otoh... how did he even get cornered in an dark shady alleyway lmao.

- Aris managing to make herself look like a teenager as Taivra is interesting since Takeo says he wants her to be able to go to school like Yuna and Shinwoo when he's treating them. I guess she looks younger without makeup.

- Takeo just straight up pointing his gun at Shark in public because he mentioned Taivra... anger issues much? I understand why but taking your gun out is an overreaction.

[kay-is-krazy]

Literally No Title

Please help

Idk what I’m doing

This is a fanfic

Deanxreader kinda

It needs work sorry

I will hashtag

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Damp. Everything that surrounds you is damp. As you start to come to, you smell the stench. Sulfar. Confused, you try to open your eyes, brows furred as the light tries to chase away your sight. Your adrenaline pushes you to figure out where you are. Looking around weerily, you notice the familiar iron door. Your parents old farmhouse storm cellar. Opening and closing your eyes making sure this is what you're actually seeing. It's been years. Decades even since you've seen these walls. Theyre different now. Moldy, but with cobwebs. You start to realize you're strapped down on the old iron table you used to eat spaghettios on when the tornados hit. No use in trying to squirm your way to topple over. Your father bolted it down in the cement. How did you get here. As you push and strain yourself to remember, the door opens. A tall red flannel emerges, and you go cold...

Life wasn't always fighting monsters, and saving people. You had a family of your own, until the vampire mafia ripped in to town destroying everything in their path, including your home and everyone in it. You still remember their screams as you fled into the woods. Revenge is a choice you have to make, and it sure was a hell of a ride. In this life, you run into auhtorities, but very little hunters like yourself. After bumping into the Winchesters working a werewolf case, they sort of took you under their wing. Noticing you needed guidance, before you ever could. You were in constant rage, before meeting the boys. Searching for answers, and never being satisfied with the kill. It all blurred into a blood bath of vengence. A lot of trust, losses, and whiskey, but you found a new family. You need them as much as they need you. And just recently, it was Dean needing saving.

The mark had completely consumed him. Being the hero, the guinea pig, has led him to be desperate in saving the world. You knew he was always staying strong, putting on a good face for Sam, but deep down, he is slightly broken like the rest of you. His hope depleted as the mark's strength took over his judgement. He was like you were before they saved you, scared and fuming with anger. You're just trying to return the favor before he hurts anyone else, especially his brother Sam.

After months of research, you found something. Slight chance of hope in fixing Dean. Confiding in Sam, he decides to look for it himself. The word of God. Once touched by a demon, it is said to purify them. No one has seen it in over 100 years, but you got a lead. The only thing that's near impossible is finding Dean. So time to draw him out... He wants a fight, you'll bring him a fight.

Scrounging up as many demons as possible, making sure they're alive but bleeding, you make a devils trap and wait. You heard through demon grapevine, that Dean can sniff them out. He's the big bad now. Being a demon himself, he hates them even more, if that makes sense.

But your plan didn't work. There have been plenty of close calls while working on the job, but this wasn't just a regular monster case. It was so much more, and there's a lot at stake. You realize why you're scared. You're in a situation even you can't get out of alive. Fear sets in as Dean walks closer. Each step like a predator closing in on it's prey. That red shirt, being even more red than usual.

He smirks, “Welcome back sunshine. Thought I killed you too soon”.

Your head is pounding as you try to look at your body. Realizing its broken, bruised, and bloodied, you must have put up a fight.

“Oh that, sorry, I couldn't help myself. After I knocked you out, I had some fun.” Your heart is beating so fast as if it is going to jump out of your body. The last thing you want is for him to see you afraid. You try to muffle out his name, but your voice is hoarse. “Please don't speak, I don't want my ears to bleed as you plead with me.... or on the other hand, I'd love to hear you beg for your life”, he whispers the last part in your face.

Wincing at his words, you turn your head, and say “You're not you right now. We'll fix this, Dean.”

He puts his hands on your chin, for a second you think it's him. His oversized, warm strong hands that wouldn't hurt a fly unless it was unnatural.The ones who taught you martial arts, and the ever so famous air guitar. But looking into his eyes, noticing they are lacking the softness, they flicker, and those green eyes are no longer. Black eyes, and his hands smell of sulfar. “There's nothing to fix sweetheart, I'm better than ever.” he jerks his hand away making your head turn to face him. As he walks to the door to open it, you yell out, “Just get it over with and kill me already!” He stops, turns his head just so you can see his profile, and scoffs. Walking out, and leaving you alone once again.

Wondering where Sam is, you try to squirm free from being tied up.Your fastens on your wrist have some wiggle room. Using the pointiness of your sister's ruby class ring on your left hand, you try to cut the leather bands. It's going to take hours, but you're not giving up yet. You know there are only two ways out of this, and you'll be damed if you don't fight.

'Pour some sugar on me' plays from your cell phone. Sam's calling you, the signature ringtone for drunk, fun Sam. Reminding you of the nights at the roadhouse, playing the same G43 on the old jukebox driving Dean insane. While Sammy and you sang until your voices were unrecognizable.

The door opens, and you straighten up, not making a move to let Dean know you've been trying to break free. There's a cart that he's pushing inside, full of old kitchen utensils, some tools from a shed, and a few of Dean's things from the trunk of his Impala that have been missing since the mark took him over.

“I know you and Sam have been looking for me, trying to save me. I'm going to show you how much I don't want or need you two around. Lets send Sammy a message, hm?” He walks over to your jacket with your cellphone in it. Dean throws it in the air and catches it. Holding it like a gun, making fake noises pretending to shoot you. “Glad to see you havent lost your adolescent behavior”, you say, “I know you're still in there Dean”.

He puts your phone down on the cart, picking up a rusty knife used for cutting fish. “But I'm not, and I'm going to prove to you just how wrong you are about me.” He cuts your cheek, and you feel the skin break open, stinging.

“You can hurt me all you want, you'll just be hurting yourself.” You say and spit in his face. The dark smirk scurries from his face, and you know what's coming next is worst.

The torture that he tortured you with only stems from Hell. Picture after picture taken and sent to Sam. The laughing, the darkness, and the insults coming from him, you start to lose hope that Dean is even in there. You keep reminding yourself that demons lie. Not believing anything DemonDean says, even though you desperately want it to be true. The remarks about how he used to think about you like a little sister until a couple years ago when you got stood up on a date with some guy named Brett. Thinking back from a different perspective now, you realize Dean was the one there who saved you from getting kicked out of the restaurant for using up a table. Waiting for some loser you met online, but seeing Dean sitting down across from you, feeling a sense of clarity and sureness. But now ever since he's turned into something evil, he doesn't feel a thing at all for you or Sam.

In and out of consiousness, you decide you wouldn't give up on him. Even though your body is mangled, you keep pushing.

“Dean, this isn't the path your mother would have wanted. You have to know that. You don't want to let her down or she'd died for nothing.” You plead and try, but he slaps you hard in the face. The hit seemed personal, as if you were getting somewhere with him. You reason, “Isn't family what brings people together, it's what brought us together. Aren't we family, you could let me go, and Sam and I can help you see the light again. Just like your mom used to say right? The light will guide you home. Come home Dean!” Another blow to your head. He knocks you out again.

As you come to, Dean is reaching for the blade. He's actually going to use it on you, kill you. Coming to terms with your fate, you start to hum and mumble 'simple man by lynryd skynrd'. It was always your favorite. It was everyones favorite. You figured it was a good enough song to go out to. You peek open your eyes as much as you can. Throbbing and seeping blood, you're finally able to see Dean stop and stare at you. He drops the blade, looking down at the mark and then back at you. His face twisted, unsure of what is reality. You don't stop singing. Second verse, he's closer now. A single tear rolling down your face; knowing if he ever came back, got the mark off, he wouldn't forgive himself. Even when he's unable to save someone on a job, he's hard on himself. You can't imagine what he'll feel like, so you pity him.

He's closer now, hands around your throat. He's trying to fight you and himself. The pain and anger in his eyes turns black, then normal again. You look him straight in those familiar faint green eyes, and say your final words, “I forgive you.” The world goes dark.

Heaven was always described as 'your own personal paradise'. You're wondering why yours is in a hospital. White walls and curtains. The coldness in your nose suprises you. Who knew paradise would be so cold, gray, and foggy. Nothing was easy to make out, but you could definitely tell it was a hospital. You hate hospitals, confused as to why you're heaven isn't what you expected, you look around to see if there is a recognizable face. Hoping for maybe your Dad, Mom, or sister.

No one. There's a loud beeping noise and you look up to see a monitor. Looks like the vitals of a dead man. You start to wonder maybe God put you in the wrong paradise. So you pray. But words don't come out, and you drift back into the dark.

Blinking once, then twice, then several times. The light is bright. You can tell it's daytime. Still the same Heaven as before, but this time you feel everything. The pain, the tenderness. You remember, and know that you're not dead. Relieved, but still uncertain, you try to move. Expecting straps to hold you back, your right arm goes flying in the air. Not used to being free. You look down at your body. It's bandaged and braced. A mountain of a man peeks through the curtains. You have instant relief when you recognize Sam. He has the 'poor puppy eyes' look, and you put your hand on his. He grips it tight, but gentle enough. The gentle giant. Trying to let out a smile, a shadow lurks behind Sam. Instant fear as you realize it's Dean. Panic sets in, and your body cannot handle it. The monitors go off, you see Sam try to calm you down, and Dean sneaking away, head down, disgraced with himself. Nurses rush in with the Doctor to make sure you're okay. Tears well up in your eyes. You somehow cannot forget what Dean has done to you.

Weeks in the hospital, the only visitor you had was Sam. Trying to keep your spirits up, he shows you all of his research following up on possible cases. Between playing cards, reading books, and making fun of the new Taylor Swift song, you ask Sam, “How is he?”, and each answer is the same. “No better, no worse,” Sam replies. After the panic attack, Dean thought it best if he didn't show his face anymore to you. Once healed, you were allowed to go home as long as you didn't saw off the leg brace, and practice using the crutches. Knowing how stubborn you are, Sam rolled his eyes, and promised to watch over you.

Happy to finally break out, you laugh as you fumble with the crutches. Sam lets out a worrisome smile. “I'm fine Sam. Really.” You look up to him and give him a carefree toothy grin. Throwing all of your things into the impala, because Sam refused to drive “that stupid pink truck”, you beg Sam to let you pick the music.

Pulling up to the bunker, your stomach sinks a little. You know you'll have to face Dean eventually. Fogiving is easy for you, but forgetting is a whole other learning curve. Never being the one to admit you're wrong first, or facing real problems, you know it's somehting that needs to be worked on. Staring off into the distance a bit, Sam pulls you out of it as he opens the door. “We're stocked up on all your favorite foods, drinks, and even have Netflix!” He says, nudging you arm and attempting a playful laugh.

Weeks of healing, you finally are able to get up into your truck. You need some air, and desperately needed to get away. The outside world was calling your name, so were the pink wheels on that old ford. First hours, days, then weeks went by, and not a single glance from Dean. No words, no contact. Ignored you completely. Anytime you tried to reach him, asking to grab a drink at the dirty bird bar, to researching a simple ghost job, he pushed you away. You spent so much time in your room with your thoughts. Trying not to think about the event that almost ended you, and most importantly the relationship with Dean. Even Sammy has started treating you differently like you're broken. After Sam telling you to stay home again, while they hunt monsters, you'd had enough. Weekend getaway to a cabin in the woods. You leave your phone on your nighstand and decide you need some peace to clear your mind.

“Fill her up,” you say shutting off your truck to get gas. Getting out to grab snacks from inside, a long lost friend appears. Not able to look away from the light, he shields your eyes for you. You forgot how enchanthing the bright white was. “Cas what are you doing here?” You ask as you looks at you stearnly.

“I was told to keep a tab on you, and you left the bunker. So I'm here to bring you back.” He says reaching for your arm.

“Under who's orders?!” You demand. Not letting him answer you back away and say, “The boys? Really can't even get some fresh air!” Clearly angry, you hit your tailgate. Cas immediatley lays his hands on you to heal you. Being an angel has it's perks. But you wanted to feel something, Cas didn't exactly understand what being human was really like.

Brushing his hand away, you try to reason with him. “Go back to the bunker, grab my phone, and bring it to me. That way I have it on me in case I need anything. I'm still going on my very needed trip. What I don't need is a babysitter” Before you could blink twice, Cas had your phone in hand. “Do not turn this off and always keep this on you.” Rolling your eyes you respond sarcastically, “Thanks Dad. Can I leave now?” Clearly unsure of his decision, Cas side eyes you, but finally nods, and leaves you to your road trip snacking.

The cabin is the same as you left it two summers ago. A couple empty beers scattered, but the rest of the place in neat tidy order. Your mom always liked everything in a specific spot, and you try your best to remember that while staying there. Picking up the bottles to recycle them, you smile and remember the good times spent here with your family, both families. Thinking about the boys, you let out a sigh of relief. Thanking the angels that Sam showed up when he did in the storm cellar that day. The word of God being forcefully put in Dean's hands, purifying him instantly. A bright gold light shining through the brick like object, blasting Dean into Sam. His brother holding onto Dean as he comes to and realizes, he's saved. Sam's words will stay with you forever, that story will stay with you forever. You smile as you remember, you were the one who stalled Dean as Sam had come to the rescue.

“Oh shit!” You say as your line tugs and gets stronger. You were too busy admiring the cotton candy sunset to see your fishing line got a bite. It was a warm afternoon, but turning brisk fast. Fall was settling in, you could tell as the wing picked up every now and then. The trees leaves turning the auburn colors. Setting your beer down, you reel it in, but your bait is completely gone.

“You never were good at fishing.” You quickly stand from a lousy folded plastic chair, and turn around to find Dean, smiling at your loss. Clearly shocked, you ask “What are you doing here? Cas told you didn't he. Lousy friend.”

You put your pole down, and open the cooler to offer Dean a beer. He takes it and slowly sits down on the edge of the dock, feet dangling. You sit down next to him, opening your own beer. “Where's Sam?” you ask.

“Working the case still.” He notices your cocked eyebrow from a side glance. As if he would ever leave Sammy alone, he continues, “It's easy, just some pyscho vengeful ghost.” He sips his beer, straring at the now setting sun.

Getting straight to it, you ask, “Why are you here Dean?” Staring at him, you notice the weariness.

He lowers his head, gripping his beer tight. You see his shoulders move up and down slowly. Sighing heavily, he looks at you, completely looks at you for the first time. It catches your breath, because you have never seen a man so broken, Dean so vulnerable. You can tell he's been fighting with himself, beating himself up over the events that took place. Defeated, face full of hatred for himself, he doesn't say a word. You see his jaw tighten, his temples twitching. Reaching for his shoulder to show trust, but he pulls away shaking his head. “I don't trust myself with you” He musters, as he stands up to walk toward the cabin. Thinking about chasing after him, forcing him to talk, but you can't move. Like cement, you stay planted in your spot. The sun finally sets, but you still sit there, listening to the sound of the frogs.

Grabbing your things from the dock, you head inside. What could you say to make him believe you. Would you believe yourself if you said, “Everything is okay.”? Is it? Inside, you notice Dean is cleaning up what seems to be like the bathroom mirror. Understanding what just happened, you bend down to help and he stops you. Gripping your hands tight, he says “No. You don't need to clean up my mess. Any of my messes.” With a dustpan, he walks to the trash to dump the shards of glass.

“What's that suppose to mean? Am I not allowed to care? To try to save you from yourself?” He winces at the last part.

Turning around to face you, but leaning against the kitchen counter, he looks at you cold and promises, “You will never have to save me again. I will never hurt you or anyone else again.” He looks down and then back up into your eyes, moving towards the door, “You wanna know why I'm here? I came here to say goodbye.”

Stopping him dead in his tracks, you look up at him wondering how you and Sam could even survive without Dean. You start to cry. It's not like you to let anything out, but you stand there, tears pouring out of your face. “No.” was all you could muster up. Very stearn, you said it again, “No.” He grabs you and pulls you in close. Hanging on to eachother, as if it's the last time.

You both stay like this awhile, not realizing it's way over due. “You're not leaving us. We won't let you.” you say confidently, and at this he lets go. He tenses again, trying to be strong, and insists “You and Sammy have to let me go. I've been nothing but trouble. I'm bad. I'm not worth your lives.” Clearly needing reassurance, but not knowing how, you yell, “I went through all of that for nothing?!” Talking with your hands like usual, brows furious now, you continue, “After everything, you still think you're not worth it? Sam and I have done everything for you, for us, for this family.”

He turns his back on you holding back tears, but instead letting out his frustration, “You don't what it's like to need constant saving. I need control of myself, I don't have control.” He yells as he punches the wall. It startles you.

“Oh, I don't know what it's like?” you start, “You don't think that I was ever at a low in my life. What losing my family did to me, the things I did in return. It wasn't until you and your brother, that I finally found solace!” you scoff, “Please you're not the only broken one around here.” Realizing that anger isn't the route to go down, you quietly move toward him. Pushing back the fear that has been dormant, you hold his hand. “We are family.” you say softly. “Family doesnt end in blood.” You wipe away the blood trickling from his knuckle with your shirt.

His hands are shaking now, as he holds them up inching closer to your neck. You flinch, and he tries to pull away. You immediatley grab his hands, and put them to your cheeks, making his squish them together a little. Tears welling up in your eyes, you let out a low, “i'm a little guppy...” It was something you two always did to cheer eachother up. Getting the other to laugh when you're both at a low point has been almost like a game. So far, he's beeing in the lead. Before you can finish, his lips are on yours. Waves of heat roll from your head to your toes, your wet cheeks brushing his scruff, and you give in, even being scared and uncertain. Dean pulls away, looks at you stearn, and says “I'm going to miss you.”

You're still standing not sure of what just happened, and you hear the door slam shut. It seemed as though your feet wouldn't move, but then you finally took a deep breath, turned around and bolted out the door. He was getting in the impala, but before he could jet off, you opened that door and ripped him out. Standing toe to toe, you slap him. That bottled rage unleashes. Then you connect your fist to his face. Unprepared, Dean fell against the car. Shocked at how hard you hit, he starts to realize you're not going to stop, so he holds your hands down. Red in the face from anger, and him red because well there's now blood pouring from his nose, you finally relax so he loosens his rains on you.

“What was that?!” You ask. “Who do you think you are? That is not okay. I am not okay.” Turning around, hands on your hips, shaking your head. Instantly defensive, you gasp, turn to face him, and make sure he knows, “I am not like every other girl. I don't deserve to be treated like any other girl.” He opens his mouth to say something, but you immediatley talk over him, “You're going to have to kill me.” Dean looks at you clearly confused. “Why do I have to kill you?”

Walking back and forth now, you respond, “Over my dead body...You're not walking out on us. Not Sammy, not me. Not our future. People need us, they need you.” Stopping, and turning to face Dean, you say, “I need you. And if you get in that impala, you better have shot me first because I won't stop looking for you.” Walking toward him now, pointing your finger in his chest, you end with “I refuse to give up on you.” At that, he looks down at you, smirks, and responds, “You're stubborn, you know that?” You break a smile, and say “I learned from the best.” Throwing you over his shoulder, he walks into the cabin.

Completely surprised as to what took place last night, you turn around and look at Dean's green eyes. Understanding now, the feelings that were dormant for so long. Realizing now that DemonDean only told the truth to hurt you.You put your hand to his face, brushing his cheek with the back of your finger, and he closes his eyes to just feel your touch. “You're not allowed to leave.” He nods, reaches for your hand with his, and lightly kisses your fingers. “I will never forgive myself...” He says, and you respond instantly, with your pointer finger shooshing his lips, “I forgive you, and will continue to remind you that you're the good guy.” Closing your eyes, thinking about the first time meeting these boys, not knowing how they would change your life for the better, you smile. He rolls you over with ease, and tucks you in close to his warm naked chest. Deep, and grunting, he says your name into your hair. You lift your head a little to let him know you're listening, “hm?” “I don't deserve this” he says, “I don't deserve you.” You respond while picking his hand up moving it closer to your chest, “Neither do I.”

[treadmilltreats]

The 251st shooting in our country this year

Did you read that? Let me repeat that in case you didn't get that...

There has been 251 shootings in our country this year and we are just half way through the year.

The number of mass shootings across the United states so far in 2019 has outpaced the number of days this year, says CBS news and according to a gun violence research group.

This puts 2019 on pace to be the first year since 2016 with an average of more than one mass shooting a day.

MORE THAN ONE MASS SHOOTING A DAY!!!!!!!

Is there something wrong here? And when will it finally be enough?

As of Sunday, which was the 216th day of the year, there have been 251 mass shootings in the U.S., according to data from the nonprofit Gun Violence Archive, which tracks every mass shooting in the country. They defined a mass shooting as any incident in which at least four people were shot, excluding the shooter.

The Texas Walmart shooting is now the deadliest of 2019 after the El Paso gun attack left 20 dead and 26 injured.Two mass shootings within the space of 15 hours has renewed calls for tighter gun control in the US yet again..... yet again.....yet again.

Now how many times have we heard this and the other bullshit politics give us to shut us up.

"We are sorry for the families" 

"Our thoughts and prayers are with the family"

Bullshit! If you really cared you take your hands out of big guns manufacturers pockets and actually do something. But we know that won't happen especially with all the money that they are pocketing. Especially when this country is being controlled by the racist, the rednecks and the "good old boys" 

No this is not going to change unless we speak up, unless we vote in people who are willing to stand up and not pad their pockets.

Look before all you haters come after me, I will again say I am all for owning guns, for our constitution "To bear arms" 

I use to have guns, I grew up target practicing, I had boyfriends that hunted, I am okay with having guns. What I am not okay with is guns that kill 100 people in a second, what I am not good with is letting every person with a background or with a mental illness walk in and buy a gun then turn around and kill innocent people by the hundreds.

I believe in tougher background checks, in saying no to someone who is not mentally stable, to ban all assult rifles.

And again don't give me the shit about our right to bear arms because if you want to get technical then we should only have one shot guns like they did when they wrote that! 

Our fore fathers never imagined that one day someone would have a gun of that magnitude. So please go back to sucking the ass of the NRA.

Now here they come saying "they will get it on the black market, if they want it, they will get it" 

Great I get that so make the penalties harsher, hell why don't we at least make them as hard as getting caught with some weed! 

Give me a break! They get a slap on the hand and some college kids goes to jail for smoking some weed does that make any sense??

That is why we need to make a change, get the good old boys out of office and input some new laws like the rest of the world have.

The U.S. has the 28th-highest rate in the world: 4.43 deaths due to gun violence per 100,000 people in 2017.

That was nine times as high as the rate in Canada, which had 0.47 deaths per 100,000 people

29 times as high as in Denmark, which had 0.15 deaths per 100,000.

Asian countries such as Singapore and Japan boast the absolute lowest rates, though the United Kingdom and Germany are in almost as good shape.

These come from the annual report on gun violence from the University of Washington Institute for Health Metrics and Evaluation.

So tell me, why is that? Oh maybe it's because they all have tougher gun control duh!!!

I am sick to my stomach to have to write about this yet again, my heart breaks for these families who on a everyday trip to Walmart will now never come home because some sicko decided to kill everyone there. I don't want to write another blog about this but I am afraid that this won't be my last unless we as a county stop this. We need to call, to write, to protest, to vote! 

VOTE DAM IT!!!

Stand up and make your voices heard, we still live in the home of the free, for a while anyway so do something now....

And as I say at the end of every blog....

Be the change you want to see"

"And just when the caterpillar thought his life over...he turned into a beautiful butterfly"

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[agl03]

I think that you're off base with the Superior. I think he's going to turn out to be more than he appears. That line about why he hates the Inhumans 'they didn't work for it' says to me that there's something deeper going on there. Plus, you don't hire an actor like Zach McGowan unless he's got a meaty part to play. It wouldn't be worth it. (as a side note, I'm afraid that my Sexy Bad Boy Radar starting pinging severely and I had an Oh No He's Hot moment. Several of them actually).

Hi @ozhawkauthor

Now that I’ve kind of slept on and mulled it over more I think I miss spoke, why I should properly calm down before I do a meta.  Yes, the Superior is a big bad in his own right,  he’s got money, he’s got a collection of military toys, an underwater mobile base, minions, strong connections, and he has a hatred for the Inhumans (and obsession with Coulson).  He’s helping Nadeer and the Watchdogs.  Interestingly enough though he doesn’t seem fond of tech (he prefers the old ways, tradition)…so just where are they getting those big toys Fitz has been taking down with a paperclip and cork all season…  So for me now, he’ll be a bit like Malick.  He is bad, he is dangerous, he is going to do some damage.  But I still feel he’ll eventually be eclipsed by someone worse (totally cool if you disagree though!).  

Like you the “They didn’t work for it” really stuck out to me.  It reminded me a bit of what Lash was like when I was researching the comics, in that Lash felt Inhumans needed to be worthy of going through the mists and getting powers.  I don’t think he’s Inhuman (right now) rather he feels one needs to work for what they have.  But there is something else there.

The obsession with Coulson is also a bit interesting.  He’s been tracking and searching for Coulson for years as he investigated what was causing all the ‘situations’ if you will.  

Radcliffe knows he has exactly what the Superior needs to get Coulson at his mercy and didn’t tell.  He’s holding on to that chip just a little bit longer….or he spilled the beans off camera.   Coulson searching for Radcliffe/May will keep him distracted…allowing the Superior to go after one of the best ways to get at Coulson aside form May, his team.  

How long he is with us might depend on his filming schedule and if he’s still on 100.  We’ll get a better look next week and see if he’s on the Press Release for 14….which will totally drop the second I leave my house here.  

[anthrat]

The Akatsuki members as high-school students

Has this been done before? Probably! Do I care? No, because these are my terrible headcanons and nobody can take them from me.

A/N: This has been in my drafts for a long time, probably since early February. I’ve been lacking motivation to do anything at all for months and lo and behold, I find this basically finished piece bar one character. I really, really want to start writing again but I’m struggling to think of ideas, so if you have any requests for future headcanons/one shots/etc feel free to slide me a message or something :)

He's definitely the generic super intelligent kid who gets straight A's in pretty much every subject. All of his notes are really well organised, he keeps bullet journals and everything is colour coded - mans notes are literal art. His handwriting is definitely beautiful, we're talking professional calligrapher here.

All of his equipment is immaculate, he cries if one of his books gets a crease or something on it somehow. If you accidentally nudge him or ruin his notes he will silently hold a grudge against you forever - he probably won't act on his grudge though, he just wants to blend in and he dislikes conflict in general.

Despite being fully aware of his intelligence he hardly ever speaks up in classes. He only really speaks when spoken to and so is renown as the token quiet kid. I also envision him as being super pretentious, although he doesn't show it he definitely thinks he's better than everyone else.

His favourite subject would be English because he enjoys analysing anything and everything. If you're friends with him he will make comments on how random pieces of media etc. are a representation of -insert important world issue or theory.- He'd also like art despite it being the only subject he's not very good at. All his art is abstract, he will draw a pink square and claim it represents a patriarchal society.

Doesn't have many friends because he isn't very talkative, spends most of his time at school alone doing schoolwork. Sees school purely as an educational setting and so doesn't see the point in making an attempt to be social.

All of his school equipment looks like it's been mauled by 300 dogs because its all second/third/fourth+ hand. Man would never pay full price for a textbook. He definitely steals all the faculty equipment too. You could fill an entire room with the amount of stationary this man has but he will NEVER lend it to anyone else. If he does lend you something it's because its either A) broken B) barely functional (so like pens which can write 2 letters before running out) or C) you're giving him something better in return/paying for it (even then he'll probably take whatever he lent you back without you realising)

He also definitely runs mini-shops in school where he'll sell stolen equipment and things like sweets/chewing gum/trendy items (he made bank when fidget spinners were a thing) for like triple what they're actually worth.

His favourite subject is definitely history (He's a crusty dusty old man so of course) but he will never admit this. He takes business and economics but hates them, he's already done all of his own research into the subjects and is only doing them to get the qualification. Definitely complains about how he already knows it all already and it's a waste of time for him to learn it again. His only conversation topic is him talking about how he's going to set up his own business as soon as he leaves school.

Is very intelligent but only gets average grades in most subjects because he refuses to try if he dislikes the subject or sees it as a waste of time.

Watched DeathNote once and now thinks he's an actual real life version of Light Yagame. Carries around his own DeathNote and threatens to write people's name in it.

Convinced that he's been bestowed with supernatural powers, whenever he speaks he does lots of flashy hand gestures, - think generic cool-dude protagonist poses - these change depending on what piece of media he's currently obsessed with. His personality also changes alongside the poses.

Basically what I'm trying to say is he's the over-saturated 'weird anime kid' with a touch of superiority complex. Although, he's super confident and has absolutely 0 shame in this fact.

Bless his little heart, he loves writing but is the definition of 'uses complicated words without knowing what they mean'. He's still decently smart though. His grades would probably be pretty average because he struggles to apply himself properly. His favourite subject would definitely be something like sociology where he can freely express his profound ideas, even if some of them are completely god awful. He'd also enjoy any subject which gives him creative freedom such as art or English.

Cannot see this lad as anything but a jock. He loves sports, lives and breathes them. He's probably a member of practically every single sports team and is surviving on the basis he has a sports scholarship of some kind.

Despite him being a jock he'd be the most approachable out of all the Akatsuki members. He's the kind of guy who no matter who you are he'd always be happy to crack jokes and talk with you. He definitely brings in way too much food, he's that dude who brings a whole mini banquet to school every day for no discernible reason. He's always happy to share though, he's definitely the kind of guy who if he saw someone sat by themselves at lunch he'd sit with them and offer them food.

His grades would be a little on the lower side because most of his free time is taken up with all his sports, however, he'd still work hard at his academics regardless. If anything this man is probably the most dedicated, he would hate the fact that he's falling behind all his classmates but at the same time would rather die than give up any of his extracurricular activities.

He'd be fairly popular because of his naturally easygoing and humorous nature, but people would rarely ever invite him to events as they'd just assume he was busy.

Konan is an absolute babe, the kindest and most caring person in the whole school. Forgotten your lunch? She'll buy you some or give you her own. Didn't do your homework? Bitch will give you hers to copy, if it's an essay or something she'll sit with you and help you write it. Looking a little upset? Konan's right there to try and cheer you up even if you aren't friends.

Despite how wonderful and 100/10 a person she is she probably won't have many close friends. She'll get used a lot by others who take advantage of her good nature. She's smart enough to know what they're doing but she doesn't care, she's happy to be of help to anyone even if they don't appreciate it.

She's a bit of a teachers pet though, she's on super good terms with every teacher in the school even if she doesn't take the subjects they teach. Most of her breaks/lunches would be taken up by her helping with display boards or whatever.

Her favourite subject would be geography, she'd really enjoy learning about different cultures and societies. I can see her just really enjoying learning about how rivers are formed and stuff like that as well. Her least favourite would be something like math which is only fact based, she enjoys being able to look at things from different perspectives.

Also bitch would bake all the time, literally every lesson she'd whip out a box of cakes/cookies/anything else she'd baked the night before to share with the whole class.

Carries knives around with him because he thinks they make him look cool. He can and will whip one out at any given opportunity so he can flex a knife trick on you. His knife tricks suck though, he always drops them or cuts himself, if you try and walk away he'll beg you to stay claiming that fortieth time's the charm or something.

He never shows up to lessons, he doesn't even know what one is. If you ever ask him what subjects he takes he'll look at you blankly and ask what you mean. If he ever is in a lesson it's because he was dragged there by a member of staff. Honestly, the few lessons he's actually present for are so chaotic teachers find themselves praying he doesn't show up. Being as he never willingly shows up he'll never know what subject it is, and he'll ask insanely bizarre questions un-ironically because he gives no fucks and has no idea what is happening. For example, you'll be learning about arteries in biology and he'll ask something like "What ingredients do we need?" because he'll have confused arteries with artichoke and think he's in a home economics lesson.

Despite being the weird knife kid he's pretty popular, he's so completely brain dead and unaware of his surroundings that its impossible not to get along with him. He doesn't have the critical thought to bully anyone and so even if he tries to be horrible it always comes off as though he's just trying to be funny.

Oh dear oh lord what can I say about Zetsu? Zetsu is an absolute shit show of a student. Black Zetsu I can see as being very academic focussed, with their favourite subjects being religion, politics and some form of economics. I imagine they’d be very active within school politics/religious scenes, probably the head of some sort of group for both.

Black Zetsu would also be interested in applying for positions such as Head of Year, Class Representative and anything similar. They’re a big control freak and as a result have basically 0 friends. People would find them overbearing and awful to be around. They’re the incredibly opinionated kid who dismisses anything which they don’t personally agree with.

White Zetsu on the over hand, hoo boy. Class clown obviously. The living bane of Black Zetsu. If Black Zetsu wants class representative then you know people will vote for white Zetsu instead because he’s infinitely more popular. He’s incredibly weird but in such an innocent and goofy way they’d have a large group of friends. They wouldn’t be popular per say, but they’d be friends with practically everyone.

Their favourite subject would probably be biology because sex jokes, but I also think they’d enjoy English because uhh… Sex jokes. I just can’t see White Zetsu taking school even slightly seriously.

He basically lives in the art department. If you walk near him he will tag along and start talking to you about art, it doesn’t matter who you are you will be forced to listen to his speech.

Incredibly confident and has no issue starting a conversation with anyone. He's definitely the type of person who every time you see him he'd be with a completely different group of people, whether they want him there or not.

Despite his weird constant art rants he'd be the life and soul of the party. He's always fun to be around purely because of how much energy he has. He'd be the kid who makes everyone laugh completely on accident, although people would probably be laughing more at him than with him.

He'd probably get invited to lots of places by other kids just so he could be the butt of every joke. He wouldn't mind though, he'd brush it off and probably enjoy the attention he gets from it.

Most of his friends would end up being people who know nothing about art though, all the students who participated in any artistic subjects would stay far away in fear of him starting another argument about art.

If the art class ever does clay his has to be put in the kiln separately because it always blows up. He also has a habit of 'accidentally' damaging other people's art if he dislikes it. Eventually he would mellow out and start appreciating other forms.

Nobody knows who he is, people will have sat next to him for years and won't even know his name. The amount of times his name is called in the register and people will pipe up with "who's that?" or "didn't he move to another school?" is genuinely concerning. He doesn't care though, he'd rather go through school completely unnoticed.

Excels at all subjects (besides sports, he's never showed up to a PE lesson because of 'health reasons') despite putting very little effort into academics. His favourite subjects would be biology and math. He'd absolutely hate art as a subject, preferring to do art in his free time rather than make it into a chore at school. He'd have been put in Deidara's class at least once and it would have completely ruined all enjoyment of art as a subject for him. He'd also hate any subjects which prompt discussion such as English or sociology, he doesn't have any opinions on them and he doesn't care to listen to anyone else's.

Honestly, dude is the definition of a background character at school. He just simply does not exist, and I have mad respect for him. On the off chance anyone even tried to speak to him he'd probably completely ignore them, the only communication he has at school is through emails with teachers. He has 0 interest in making friends when they have nothing in common with him.

Another character sort of hard to pinpoint. He’d probably be somewhat similar to White Zetsu, but not quite as popular. He’d be a right teachers pet, with few friends his own age. He’d probably spend spend all his breaks and lunches with teachers in their classrooms, offering to help them with display boards etc.

Despite being a teachers pet he wouldn’t be academic whatsoever. He’d always try his best but bless him, he’s terrible at every subject and ends up constantly making a fool of himself. He’s definitely the sort to raise his hand to make a really great point, but his really great point is basically repeating the lesson objective. When studying of mice of men he definitely asked “what’s the name of Curly’s wife’s husband?”

His favourite subject, regardless of his ineptitude would be drama. He’d always be the most melodramatic and over the top in every character he played, not really caring what other people thought of him. In fact, that’s probably his best feature. Despite his lack of popularity he’d always unapologetically be himself, his goofy and over the top self.

SPOILERS AHEAD:

If we’re thinking more about Obito, I’d like to imagine for the sake of this headcanon Tobi is what he’s like during lower school years and then suddenly one summer he comes back and he’s completely matured into this foreign character unrecognisable to nobody.

He’d become incredibly serious, forgoing the role of energetic teachers pet to a much more muted one. He’d still be just as terrible at all his lessons, and still spend most of his time around teachers rather than others his age but he’d no longer have that fun spark. He’d probably start caring greatly about what people thought of him so his latter years would be trying to stay under the radar completely.