#i just don't know why you wouldn't assume that

[aokozaki]

He also hasn't apparently contested being found with a gun. People act like of course the cops planted a gun, why would a guy just be carrying a gun?

If Mr. Magnione is indeed the shooter, it's not hard to imagine "he couldn't think of a way to dispose of the gun" turning into "he kept it on his person" gelling with "if he was found he might have known he'd get arrested right away, so his manifesto thanks the feds for what they do and says he doesn't want to waste their time".

Or, maybe, anyway.

This is assuming a lot of hypotheticals. He is still only a suspect, innocent until proven guilty - and thankfully his family's well off so he's gotten a good lawyer.

The thing is though, people have turned ACAB into an excuse for assuming a massive conspiracy to arrest some guy on trumped up charges. Which like, wouldn't be shocking but that's also not proved either.

You ever notice how when the shooting first happened, and the shooter calmly shot the guy and then rode away on a bike and just fucking vanished, everyone's reaction was "what? that worked?"

But after a few days of myth-making, of seeing every little clue as proof that the unknown gunman was always one step ahead of the cops, when a man is arrested for pretty boring reasons, the reaction becomes "there's no way it's him, the shooter was too smart for this!"

Or maybe it's not that implausible, if Mr. Mangione does turn out to be the shooter (this is still just personal speculation here, it's not proven) that a man who's escape attempt was so slapdash as to provoke shock, also carried a manifesto that opens:

To the Feds, I'll keep this short, because I do respect what you do for our country. To save you a lengthy investigation, I state plainly that I wasn't working with anyone.

Was he expecting to be caught? That's just speculation and personal opinion. We don't know anything for sure yet.

It seems plausible he shot the guy, but objectively it's an understandable motive for murder, and also lmao? Terrorism charges?? Yeah they're not getting him with that even if he did do it.

But like, Jesus, drop the conspiracy theories. Saw some folks allege the manifesto must have been AI generated due to the somewhat surreal tone of opening up thanking the feds but like.

It's a handwritten note. That's very easy to google. The cops were fastidious enough in their frame-job to handwrite it, but hakcy enough to ask ChatGPT? What're you fucking talking about.

Honestly one of the main reasons to assume Luigi Mangione was framed by the NYPD is that the UHC shooter not only had no reason to carry around a manifesto, he had no reason to even write a manifesto. He said his piece loud and clear with the bullet casings and the monopoly money. Everyone understood it and the shooter knew that would be the case.

[sheeezu]

...And if I didn't answer your ask.

It's not because I don't have the patience with repetitiveness, nor am I about to tough talk you into something.

And I had full motivation, and I still do, to answer all 161 asks, but scrolling through them I had a realization, I think I should establish beforehand. Nothing, on a atomic, cellular, dirt level is as black as white as you're making it out to be. There is no straight forward conclusion for your inquires, the nature of reality is a tricky subject; but just know whatever "problems" exist, are superficial.

Your reality was colorless, you're the one responsible for coloring it. If I were to answer a question, that wouldn't make a dent in your current life, unless you step up yourself, and stop acting so down to earth, please.

I'm not a doctor, you're not a patient, you've created every bit of existence so far, even assumed me into existence, you can just solve any and every little inconvenience by taking your own abilities into consideration, and directing your energy to everything which goes in your benefit.

Let go of outer reliance, on me, on others, on other people's proof, on your environment.

If you claim to be a creator of your own reality, why act anything less than it?

( no this is not an excuse to "do not disturb" you out, please send more cool asks :)

[sanni276]

Joker Jr. AU but a bit different

I have recently seen and read several Tim Drake AU's where he is Joker Jr. They were all really interesting but I noticed how Tim was (obviously since that's like the main trait of the Joker) always insane in these fics, which has given me the following idea: Tim is Joker Jr. but he is not insane and actually purposefully became him to at as a spy.

Hear me out: Little 11/12-year old Timothy was out at night doing some nighttime photography (*cough* batstalking *cough*) when he witnessed the Joker doing something so brutally sick and wrong (Barbara being shot maybe?) that Tim decided that Joker needed to be stopped and it had to happen soon. Somewhere in that thought process it somehow got into his head that he had to do something.

I am sadly not actually smart enough to explain to you how he did it, but Tim tricks the Joker into making him his "son" and into thinking that he is insane. However instead of bringing chaos and harm upon the people of Gotham, Tim is using JJ as a cover to infiltrate the world of Gotham's rogues and send warnings to the police and citizens before attacks so they can be stopped or at least as many people saved as possible.

Another use of Tim pretending to be JJ is, that he can slowly convince Harley to leave the Joker over time and even better: Joker might take him to Ethiopia where Tim saves Jason. Through Jason's vague memories of being rescued in the last second by a child that was with the Joker? the Bat's finally become aware of the fact that Joker has a child (i imagine that they only heard rumours about it before and they kind of brushed it off since the story didn't really add up or some other excuse like that). They are obviously very concerned but when they finally find Tim and expect to meet a traumaticzed child that has become close to insanity, this happens instead:

*Batman and co. dramatically landing on the roof JJ is standing on*

*Tim turning around and starting to wave exitedly when he sees them*: Hi :)! Omg I can't believe I'm meeting you guys, i am a big fan do you need something from me? Information maybe? That would be no problem although you might have to wait a bit if you need like specific info on a rogue because i would have to investigate first and-

Nightwing: Wtf B?! You told me to come from Blud tonight since I am the best of us with children but I wouldn't touch whatever this is with a ten-foot-pole.

Batman (ignoring his son): Hello Timothy (yeah they figured out his identity), we are here to rescue you from the Joker and bring you home to your family.

Tim: Rescue me? Why would you have to rescue me? *whispering to himself* and my parents have found out i'm not at drake manor? I am going to have to check they're travel plans again.

*Bat's sharing a concerned glance*

Jason: I know this is hard to understand for you and you must be so scared, but Joker is very dangerous. We can help you. You are safe now and you don't need to defend him.

*Tim looking at them with a confused Pikachu face*: Ewwww, I would rather drop my camera off a roof than defend the Joker. I think we are having a little misunderstanding right now.

Tim, completly convinced from his Hero's greatness, just assumed that the Bat's knew about his existence, who he was and that he was only pretending to be a rogue. Why wouldn't they? There the best detectives in the world after all!

He then procedes to explain to them how he is literally the perfect spy, since his parents wouldn't even really miss him if he died and he already made contingencies that would assure all the data and evidence he has on people would be automatically deleted.

The Bat's leave that rooftop not only without Tim, but also somehow even more concerned than before.

In conclusion: Give me an AU that is just Tim my sweet-summer child doing the most reckless shit that is somehow atually very helpful for everyone while the Batfam is just desperatly trying and failing to convince Tim that he has no obligation for what he is doing and that his sacrifice would not be worth it (during the many encounters they have, Tim slowly turns out to be the perfect adoption bait and I think we all already know how this is going to end.)

This is literally my first ever tumblr post or post about the batfam so I hope I did this the right way and this was somewhat possible to enjoy. Please tell me if i made any mistakes since english isn't my first language and feel free to write fic's using my idea!

[raayllum]

Can you explain why Claudia is so upset with Terry when they reunite after he leaves? And why Terry, of all people, looks so guilty with her that he can't even look her in the eye? It's one of those things where you know this should all be reversed, but isn't. Why? Why is the betrayer so hostile to the betrayed?

God I loved the messy as fuck whatever they had going on Claudia and Terry dynamic in S7, and I think there's a few reasons why

One of the cruxes of Claudia's character is that she is attached to seeing herself as a good person, and others as not-good by comparison. This means that she can engage in the exact same behaviour and justify it while assuming that others' reasonings couldn't possibly measure up.

This cognitive dissonance is not exclusive to Claudia (Callum and Rayla in particular have a tendency to justify each other's choices in ways they don't with other characters, i.e. Rayla viewing dark magic use being 'evil' except when Callum is using it and he's the 'goodest' person she knows) but the focus on 'my view of myself' largely is. Most other characters in TDP are focused on "I still view this other person as a good person," not being focused on "I view myself as a good person". But Claudia is, and it's this core desire being increasingly pitted against "I will do vile, awful things to keep my family together" that are constantly duking it out.

When Claudia finds Soren and Terry waiting for her, it's clear that not only has Terry joined her brother, but has turned against her (as he could've left and then just fucked off somewhere else). This association with Soren, I think, is one of the things that gets her haunches raised, since Soren made it very clear what he thinks the last time they saw one another in 4x07:

SOREN: You have to stop trying to release the greatest evil this world has ever known. CLAUDIA: I knew you wouldn't understand.

All Claudia hears is "there's something wrong with you." That she's the bad guy and on the Wrong side (which, to be fair, Soren also calls her and Viren bad humans when trying to wake Rex Igneous in 4x09). And, by extension, that Soren is better than her. More correct, more moral, more Right.

And Claudia cannot stand feeling judged. She cannot stand being treated like 'the bad guy' (because of course from her perspective, everything she does is right) and she struggles to hold a conception of "I did something genuinely wrong and can still be a good person" (see: "We're not going to the dungeons Soren, we didn't do anything wrong") usually leaning into one or the other, and normally the latter.

So Terry being with Soren is also "you think I'm wrong, you think I'm bad, and you think you're Better than me" (vs Aaravos' "believed we could be better, so he gave us magic"). She thinks the pair are there to stop her, and she's not wrong, on a certain level.

So when Soren makes a gesture of good will, openly contingent on Terry wanting to spare her ("You're here to save me? How generous [...] I can change, and you will help me. Did I get everything?" Karim vibes), it's just seen as "you're showing off how/why you think you're Better than me" and was, quite frankly, never going to work.

Soren setting down his sword came closer, as it's more reciprocal, and it also symbolizes Soren setting down his mantle/duty (the same sword that killed Viren the first time, presumably). But Soren makes another mistake; the same mistake he made in 4x07:

Dad is dead, Claudia. You don't have to do what he wants anymore.

Set down your staff, Claudia. Dad's staff.

But while Claudia has been doing stuff for Viren, she hasn't done what he wanted in a long time. She's been doing what she wants ("You are not letting go, Dad!") for a hot second, and now alongside Aaravos. (I need to write a scene on her and Aaravos' talk in 7x06, but that's for another day.) And that has included taking down elves and dragons as a whole (and any elf that doesn't help her) for a while.

The dragons and the elves, all the arrogant fools blinded by the searing light of their own self-righteousness.

They are wrong, and she and Aaravos are right ("So much we can make right"). This is a very black-and-white viewpoint in many ways, one that some characters are faster as dismantling than others, but I have no doubt that Arc 3 will push it to its breaking point for all of them. Soren and Terry have thrown in their loyalties with the elves and dragons, since Terry was previously a "good elf Exception" alongside Aaravos because they were both helping her and, as previously discussed, Terry has now turned against her, and all the baggage Claudia carries about such a thing is now dumped onto him by proxy (which Terry doesn't necessarily know or understand).

So what does he look so guilty over?

Honestly? The illusion plan. I'm sure he's worried that Claudia might get hurt, and that things might escalate / go south, but he is ultimately there with a plan that is not what he wanted. What Terry wanted was to find the real Lissa and give Claudia a real chance to connect with her mother and maybe change her ways. But it's not real. It's deception, and he knows it.

TERRY: You lied to me! AARAVOS: I never lie. I simply said we needed a big feather and a very small feather. That is all. TERRY: No. You say you never lie, what you do is worse. You tell people half-truths and let people fill in the rest. You make people lie to themselves. It's deception. It's manipulation, and it's wrong.

She betrayed him, and now in his own way he's betraying her.

So what makes him decide to turn around and do something... similar, shall we say? There's a few things. The first is that they're on a time limit and have no way to reach Lissa. The second is that it's plausible the others were going to do it anyway, and Terry accompanied them because 1) he couldn't stop them, 2) he felt responsible, and 3) hoped that his presence would make a positive difference to Claudia.

The second is the other half of what Aaravos says to Terry, I think.

TERRY: I'll tell Claudia. AARAVOS: Oh, it will change nothing. She loves me. [...] And what of Claudia, then? She knows so much more than she tells you, and she keeps it that way to protect you.

Now, Terry rightfully understands that Claudia wasn't keep things from him to protect him; she did it to use him and to keep him from leaving ("I knew he'd leave once he found out"). However, Terry being willing to live in a half-truth and employ one on Claudia because he genuinely believes it will help her, because he thinks it's a truth he needs to withhold to protect her ("You have to promise me that no harm will come to Claudia" is most easily kept if she backs down)... that I can believe, especially since it lets him believe that she's capable of change/quitting. He wants to Save her, not use her.

That doesn't mean he thinks it won't Hurt.

[lawofangie]

hi guys! i've been getting some dms and asks, and since there seems to be some confusion about what the law of assumption is, i wanted to make a post clarifying some things. so here are some things you need to know:

1. the law is not a mystical thing.

it is not magic. its not foreign. it is not a superpower. it is simply making assumptions. not praying, not wishing, not hoping, not affirming. making assumptions. manifestation is about accepting things as true without any proof, the proof comes later. once you've successfully completed this step.

2. you didn't create life, you created your reality.

there is a difference. i remember this one tumblr interaction where someone sent an ask, believing that since they're the creator of their reality, then they also created every tv show they watched. and no, you obviously did not. anything that you obviously didn't physically create in your life, you didn't create. the only thing you are responsible for in your life is how things operate in relation to you.

3. you don't get what you want, you get what you are.

there's a reason why you're told by neville to stop desiring, why you're told to state your desires as a present tense fact. its because no amount of wanting, no amount of desiring, is going to change anything. if our assumptions (what we believe is true without proof) have so much power over our lives, what do you think desiring implies? what does wanting say about you? if you had your dream job, would you be wanting your dream job, or would you already have it and no longer desire it?

it should be obvious that we as human beings are conscious enough to realize certain things. we have the freedom to change our own minds because we are autonomous human beings. therefore, you are completely capable of making the conscious decision to believe something without proof.

4. you are a human being. other people around you are human beings too.

i've noticed that a lot of people within this community seem to be out of touch with reality. i find this very concerning and it's why i no longer say things like "the 3d isn't real" or "you are god", because they can be blown out of proportion. while yes, you are the cause for everything in your life, this is still your life. the 3d can be as unreal or "fake" as it wants to be, but it's all you've ever known. it's all you will ever know. why? because regardless of any material you've ever consumed, we are human beings living a human experience. nothing can change that.

you still need to take care of yourself, you still need to live your life, you should still enjoy your life, you should still be kind to others and treat them with respect. don't neglect yourself and others around you. the 3d is real, it's just not as absolute as we're made to believe. that's all. the 3d is real, but its authority over you is not.

5. again, the law is not magic. it's a natural process.

once you assume something, it's not going to just magically fall into your lap. the law is meant to be a natural thing. while manifestation is instantaneous, there is still the bridge of events that unfold to lead you to what you decided has already happened. and while things can still happen in an infinite amount of ways, the "how", regardless of what i've just said, is still none of your concern. your job will always be to decide it's already done and stick to that.

also, please don't take my words out of context. i'm not saying that manifestation is a process or anything like that, this is simply the way our world works. for instance, if you wanted to manifest a free vacation, the tickets wouldn't magically appear in your hand right that second. you'd decide you were already going on/already on that vacation first. then in the next couple minutes/hours or the next day or that same week, a relative of yours calls or visits and mentions that they won a trip to your desired location, but they changed their mind, so they ask you if you want to go.

this is what i mean by a bridge of events unfolding. there is no process, just events that lead you to where you already assumed you are. your physical reality is a mirror that reflects whatever you tell yourself instantaneously. things will always unfold in a natural way.

that's all for now. i hope this helps. 🩶

[charmac]

Somehow I never really realized that Andrew Friedman and Charlie Day only have a 5 year age difference between them (I assumed it was closer to 10 years), and I realized I've kinda always assumed Uncle Jack was a grown adult when he moved in with the Kellys, when Charlie was a kid (perhaps incorrectly?)

Is Uncle Jack supposed to be canonically significantly older than Andrew Friedman is? Or is he actually cast to his age and supposed to be in his early thirties in Season 1? (I don't think there's an actual answer here, they don't age him in the script or discuss it in the TASP episode.)

But I'm wondering: do you guys automatically assume Uncle Jack is significantly older than Charlie? Or am I alone in just, like, ignoring the actor's actual age and defaulting him to, more or less, looking as he did in Season 1 when Charlie was a kid?

We don't really know the circumstances of Jack originally moving in with Bonnie and Charlie, but now realising their age difference, Jack actually being fairly young when he moved in with them almost, upsettingly, makes more sense than him being a grown adult at the time:

Bonnie taking in her much younger, teen brother (in some absence of her parents being able to care for him, or even paying her to take care of him instead) and sticking him in her son's room would logically make way more sense than if he were a grown man at the time. In many ways, she would see these acts as good deeds: becoming a caretaker to her brother and giving her son a pseudo-brother (who seemed to be happy to love and protect him), which would almost explain why she cannot accept (or even fathom) that this instead resulted in inflicting extreme trauma on her son.

Similarly, the closer age difference between Jack and Charlie would account more for Bonnie being able to turn a blind eye/take Uncle Jack's side when it comes to the "wrestling" comments. If Jack was a grown adult, it's hard not to not raise an eyebrow at, but you would almost expect that a teenage boy would be rowdy with his nephew, and that they would playfight, if not actual fight, quite often while sharing a small space. Conceivably, Bonnie really wouldn't have stopped to question the relationship between Jack and Charlie at the time if he was her displaced teen brother, as opposed to her strange adult brother.

[leaping-toadstool-caps]

𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫

A/N: Just a lil piece I wrote AGES ago and I figured because it's getting close to the end of winter I'd post it :D

"No, no, I'm sure that Alyn was staying anyway. Anna definitely is, but I'm sure Alyn was too-"

"Students, may I have your attention please?"

James sat up quickly as Professor Weasley's voice rung through the Great Hall. He, Poppy, Alvin, Tori and Theo were digging into breakfast quickly so they could have some time in the snow before classes started.

"Fortunately, Headmaster Black has granted me permission to make this announcement." Professor Weasley continued. "For fear of pupils being unable to concentrate in lesson due to the cold weather, all classes will be postponed for all students for these last two days before the Christmas break. Do be careful out there, it is rather icy and we wouldn't want any students going home with broken bones."

The entire Hall erupted in a loud cheer. Tori whooped, punching James' shoulder.

"Snow day!" Poppy cheered, and Tori kissed her cheek.

"As usual, the quidditch pitch is open despite games being cancelled, if students so wish they may indulge in snow activities. However I must ask that you all please do use your wits and do not perform any stunts that I would class as dangerous."

"Alvin! Theo!" Matty rushed towards the Hufflepuff table looking flushed and excited. "Mum just gave me permission to stay in Hogwarts for Christmas break!"

"Yes!" James gave an excited air punch. "That's almost all of us, minus Cassie, Damien, ermm, Val, I think? Oscar's staying, I have no clue about Freddie, I think we're also missing a confirmed answer from Luci and Alyn. All we have to do is convince a few more adults and then we'll have the BEST Hogwarts Christmas ever!"

"Cassie's staying here." Alvin said quietly as Matty sat beside him. "Trouble at home." James gave Alvin's shoulder a squeeze to try and comfort him.

"Anyone got any news on Freddie?" Tori asked.

"His dad still refused to let him stay, but Freddie said he wouldn't get on that train home if his life depended on it." Jo said as she joined the conversation, sitting herself down. "I do hope he isn't punished for it. You know what his dad's like."

The rest of the group filed in. Val was grinning when she sat down, and she placed a sheet of parchment on the table.

"Professor Hecat herself wrote my parents a letter explaining why I have to stay. I have no clue what the letter says, but Hecat must've been persuasive because my mother let me stay in Hogwarts!"

Everyone cheered, and Matty hugged Val tight.

"Damien! Any news?" Luci asked with a smile.

"I'm allowed to stay" Damien said with a slight flush, though he didn't elaborate.

"Oh good! I had hoped so after-" Ellie cut off as Damien shot her a subtle death stare.

"What about Roan?" Damien asked quickly.

Roan raised a hand. "Easier for me to stay here, anyway"

"Gah, where the heck is Alyn?"

Jo replied, "I'm sure she woke up early, she wasn't in the dorm this morning"

"Alyn said she was gonna miss breakfast. Had something to take care of in the library. But I'm pretty sure she's staying" Luci furrowed her eyebrows.

Val nudged her, "d'ya think she's with-"

Luci quickly shushed her.

"I'm assuming Alex is staying if Alvin is" Val said casually. Cassie immediately perked up, sitting up a bit straighter. "What about the other set of twins?"

"Oscar's still checking things off his apology list. He's trying to make up for the damage he caused in fifth year" Cal explained, "Kiel is staying though. Him and Alvin are practicing for Quidditch"

"In this weather?" Jo furrowed her eyebrows. "I do hope they don't catch a flu."

"They'll be okay" James assured her.

"Jamie, where's Ren?" Cassie asked suddenly. Florence raised a hand from his seat at the end of the table. His nose was buried in a book as always, and he had a dark blue shawl wrapped around him, his pale nose pink from the cold.

"Before you ask, yes I'm staying here" Florence said sounding bored. "And yes, I've heard every word of your conversation. Reading doesn't make me deaf."

James grinned, moving to sit next to Ren. He threw his arm around his shoulder, and Ren shrugged him off pretended to ignore him, but everyone was certain the flush on his face was no longer from the cold.

"Is that everyone? Me, Ren, Cassie, the twins, the other twins, Poppy, Tori, Ellie, Luci, Val, Ale, Roan, Cal, Matty, Freddie, the triplets, Damien-"

James paused, eyes widening. "Damien? Is Sebastian staying?"

Damien flushed. "I... I did manage to convince him. I think he is."

James grinned knowingly. "I think that's all of us! Now, let's head outside because I've been itching to get my fingers on that frozen good-ness all morning"

[needabetternamelater]

"'yet another dodge'? have we ever interacted before? i can't find any indication we have. why would you walk up to a complete stranger and say that unless you wanted to start a fight?" Yet another dodge that a prison abolitionist made. You're not the first prison abolitionist I asked.

"if you're so unwilling to read pro-abolition posts in good faith that you resort to misreading standard english grammar just to pretend the only possible interpretation of what i wrote is something counterfactual, there is no point in me talking to you." I've read plenty of pro-abolition posts in good faith, thanks. And no, this is not misreading standard english grammar just to pretend that the only possible interpretation of what you wrote is something counterfactual. Don't pretend things are bad-faith just because you can't answer a question. "like. we already agree on the one single claim i made!" I don't think we do. " you could've opened with something like "while i agree that the vast majority of rapists go uncaught and unpunished under the current system, wouldn't it be better to work on increasing the number who end up behind bars rather than committing to a system in which none of them do?" " Why would I ask someone who already called for abolition that? Their answer is clearly "No." "and then we could've had a conversation about the plausibility of a carceral system gaining the ability to keep rapists off the streets in a useful way. or perhaps we could've talked about the damage of the carceral approach to victims relative to the assumed value of taking a very small percentage of rapists off the streets. or a whole bunch of things. " Also, you've clearly answered that we shouldn't do any of that already. I mean, I've tried that with various other prison abolition things. I don't want a conservation that never quite manages to answer the goddamn question. And statistically, 1% of rapists commit 50% of rapes so the raw numbers don't tell the whole story. And then there's the aging-out factor. "abolitionists aren't a monolith! " So? I'm asking about abolition. Not reduction, not better conditions in prison. That's the boring part I agree on already. "what are you going to do with the rapists and murderers" is a fairly specific policy question, so asking that is akin to asking a USian proponent of universal healthcare "how will you handle religious hospitals/elective plastic surgery/drug shortages/experimental treatments/assisted suicide/etc?" and expecting a pat, satisfying answer every medicare-for-all supporter agrees on off the top of their head." Oh, come off it. I'm not expecting that. Linking to any of the big-names with an actual answer will do for one. For two, the internet is asynchronous and doesn't mean I'm expecting you to have an answer off the top-of-your head, regardless of how many people agree with it. Now, I know you can't actually do that because none of the big-names have tried to actually answer the question - but that is neither my fault nor my problem. #and if you just want to talk#don't pretend you want to listen#i don't particularly want to talk to anybody who is just sitting there waiting for me to say something in an unclear or ambiguous way#so they can declare victory over a strawman#prison industrial complex#dove.txt#t7dtf What I want is an answer to the goddamn question. Not a dozen related questions but the actual question. And the thing is an actual answer would be clear and unambiguous so it wouldn't come up if the prison abolition movement would try to actually answer the question.

But actually, yes, someone should be able to answer the first three questions everyone is going to ask.

[ckret2]

Basically a scene where Ford's emotional atrophy is shown by not recognizing that Bill is showing his vulnerable side or dismissing it as Bill manipulating him, but also a scene where he realizes how broken Bill is regarding the massacre, his self-deception saying that his dimension is fine as himself, but more so Bill's self-perception as a monster for having destroyed Euclydia

I got nine asks one after another just a few minutes apart, so I'm assuming they're from the same person and answering them accordingly.

I don't think Ford has "emotional atrophy."

And I already have significant plans in place for exploring Ford & Bill's trust/trustworthiness issues, and Ford finding out about Bill's emotional relationship to his dimension.

Ford will tell Mabel at some point, when Bill showed him the last particle of Euclydia (I know that's not the case in this masterpiece), and it ends with Mabel going to hug Bill and telling him why.

This is a canon-compatible fic, including TBOB. Anything that doesn't currently appear to be canon-compatible was written & posted before TBOB came out and is still in the process of being updated.

But even at that, I think the only thing that implies Bill might not have shown Ford the particle is simply that it hasn't been mentioned. That can be fixed with one sentence during revisions.

Yes, Bill did show Ford the last particle of Euclydia in this fic. That's still canon.

At any rate—Ford may not like Bill, but he's not the kind of person to be an asshole just to be an asshole, and telling someone else about the particle would be an asshole move. That moment was deeply private.

Ford says in J3 he spent part of his portal era trying to find out where Bill is from; this means he must have decided "a monster ate it" is either a lie or an incomplete story. Whether or not he saw Euclydia's particle, he believes he doesn't really know what happened to Bill's dimension—which is what he's currently told Mabel—and which is all he's going to tell Mabel.

Bill's perfectly capable of telling Mabel about his home dimension of his own volition, just like he did in ch 52-56.

And that's as it should be. Bill telling Mabel about his secret particle is an act of trust. Ford telling Mabel about Bill's secret particle is a violation of trust.

This is a redemption fic, after all, and forcing Bill to be vulnerable by ripping his secrets out of him and smearing them around town against his will won't help him.

You know what will help him? Getting him to a point where he feels safe sharing his secrets.

In the case of Euclid's design, you have not considered that it is a triangle with a hexagon inside its body, as if the tips of its body were in sections with smaller equilateral triangles, and that the bases that give to the rest of the body adding to the sides form a hexagon.

You say that like it's a fact? It's not a fact.

His design doesn't involve hexagons and I'm not going to incorporate hexagons.

I gave him bricks because his son has bricks and I want them to look like they're related. The bricks are at an angle because I headcanon he has a twin brother and the pattern continues across both their bodies if their sides are pressed together.

Now, I don't particularly like how it looks, which is why I might change it, but "looks like he's related to Bill" and "looks like he's 1/2 of a pair with his brother" remain my objectives in figuring out his design. I'm not just gonna make something up that doesn't line up with those goals.

I will admit that I miss the axolotl since his arc ended, so you can have something about him in the future, like him visiting Mabel through the dream plane just to give her pictures of baby Bill, and tell her that Bill didn't know how to tie his shoes until his teenage years or other embarrassing details that Bill wouldn't want anyone to know.

I have plans for the Axolotl.

Unless plans significantly change, I don't intend for him to swing by Earth again just to hang out and gossip. It robs him of his mystique. Whenever he shows up, it's because he has a purpose.

He's still Bill's lawyer. Bill broke out of Theraprism. That's the sort of thing Bill's lawyer might need to deal with. That's the focus of the Axolotl's engagement in the plot: representing/protecting Bill on a cosmic level, and delving into related themes of justice & punishment & second chances.

The Axolotl barely knew Bill until after the Euclidean massacre; he doesn't have Bill's baby pictures or know when he learned to tie his shoelaces.

Since Dipper's the one who met the Axolotl earlier in the fic and Dipper's the one who's become preoccupied with the Axolotl's poem, Dipper's the one the Ax will speak with again. It's one of his character arcs.

One way to excuse the USB, would be that they have had many incidents of not only losing the USB, but the animals always end up eating it, enough so that making USBs resistant to stomach acid especially for goats is actually a route to the destination of taxpayers' money.

As I've said, I'm deliberately not seeking an explanation for the flash drive because there's no explanation that would be as true to the show's spirit as simply not explaining it would be.

I think I'm stupid, exactly what information did Bill not want to tell Ford about the portal, was it that Bill was the same, was it the nightmare realm or something else?

Bill didn't tell Ford the thing he didn't want to tell him about the portal, and Bill hasn't thought about it while we've been in his POV since then. This is what we in the writing biz call "a mystery."

Now that the Axolotl arc is over, it's possible some people might be able to figure out what Bill didn't want to tell Ford, although I don't expect it from more than one or two readers. But if you haven't figured it out based on the Ax arc? Then the reason you don't know the info is because you haven't been told the info. You'll find out when the story tells you.

If you could have decided what Bill's phobias would be, what would they be? Of the canonical ones, only TV static is good because that's how his blood looks, and that this fear comes from the massacre or naturally from Bill's discomfort at always seeing the inside of everyone in Euclidean (possibly including himself).

tbh I wouldn't have given him phobias? Not everyone reacts to trauma by specifically developing phobias.

Bill's psychological self-care might be shit, but if he got messed up by something during the massacre so badly that it turned into a phobia, then a trillion years later he either would've encountered the trigger so many times he's become numb to it, or else the trigger would be something so obscure that there's no way he'd just randomly stumble on it where we the audience can see.

Like, in fic I give him an extreme revulsion to having hair; but within a few weeks he's made major progress in training himself out of it.

I don't think the sight of something he's seen on every single person around him everywhere he goes ever since he was born would make him feel disgust. He probably struggles to picture his people without seeing their insides. He may well have a reaction to the sight of gored Euclidean bodies—but from his POV, normal healthy bodies with every organ where it should be are simply what normal Euclideans look like to him.

In the B&N deluxe version of TBOB, he says he hears voices in TV static and a hidden code on the page says "he never sleeps he never dreams but somehow still he hears their screams." I assume that's the reason he has a phobia of TV static.

[sodascribbles]

YEAR OF THE ECHIDNA - COMMUNICATION

@year-of-the-echidna

contains: knuckles being stubborn. allusions to injuries but nothing graphic. knuckles show references.

relationships: knuckles & wade. knuckles & tom & maddie

characters: knuckles, wade, tom, and maddie.

1 of 2

read on ao3 here!

. . .

"Hi, Tom!" Wade chirps, not nearly as nervous as he should be. If Maddie had answered the door, blood would have been shed. "I know, I know!" Wade takes a step back, hands raised, smile sheepish. "I don't want to come inside or anything. Maddie would kill me and then kill me again.

"I, um, just wanted to know how Knuckles was doing?"

"Still grounded," Tom hums. "Spends most of his time on the 'floor of shame.'"

"How's he healing up?" Wade's face pinches, somewhere between guilt and sympathy. "Bet he's still pretty sore."

"...What? Sore from— healing?!" Well, Wade was right. Maddie's gonna kill him and then kill him again. Tom scrubs a hand down his face. "Wade," he says. Is he angry? Is he just exhausted? He couldn't tell you.

"From the, um, fight with the Buyer guy?" The deputy physically sort of curls inward under the weight of the conversation. "That I assume he told you about? Because he was pretty badly hurt and Maddie's a vet? But that I'm now learning it doesn't look like he did?"

Tom breathes in slowly. He breathes out slowly. He leans back and hollers, "Knuckles!"

"Okay, babe," Tom says, before even a 'hello,' in a tone that has a pit in Maddie's stomach. "This is going to make you really mad. Are you busy?"

"No," she responds, hissing a breath. "What's wrong?"

"It's Knuckles—"

"Tell me he did not sneak out again."

"He didn't sneak out again. No, he's with me. We're on the way." Tom makes a little humming, considering sound. On their way to the clinic? "Wade was telling me about Reno."

"What happens in Reno stays in Reno," Knuckles grumbles.

"Yeah, yeah. Apparently he, uh— was hurt. Roughed up by some guy that wanted to use his power."

"I recovered!" Something thumps. Maddie imagines her son in the front seat with his arms thrown up, exasperated. "I was hardly wounded!"

"Knowing you," she cuts in, moving to set up a room for him, "'hardly wounded' could mean missing an arm."

"I have both arms."

She sighs. "I'm glad, baby. Tom, any idea how bad it is?"

Tom sucks on his teeth, wincing. "He was out cold for a couple minutes. Got thrown through a wall. Wade didn't know everything," he pauses, "or, uh, didn't tell me everything."

"Wade was battling his father."

Maddie has never been more exhausted in her life. Knuckles could be bleeding out in the attic and he wouldn't say a word. Why couldn't he ever just tell them anything? Why wouldn't he just trust them, for once?

She doesn't say anything for a long moment. "Okay," she mumbles into her hands. "Okay. Knuckles, can you tell me how bad it is? I wanna help, baby."

Knuckles huffs out a little sigh. "It is a four."

Oh. Oh, it's bad. Knuckles has never willingly reported anything higher than a two. Tails had once called something 'the most painful sting in the galaxy' and Knuckles had scoffed and called it a one-and-a-half. A four was unheard of.

She swallows thickly. "What happened?"

He is slow to respond, the sounds of the road filling the silence through her phone. He eventually mumbles, "I was drained of my power. I have since recovered, obviously, and my oaths are in no jeopardy!

"But I spent... a significant time unconscious." Almost in afterthought, he hums, "I believe I was thrown through a wall."

"You— you believe you were?" Maddie's gonna kill him. And kill Wade. And kill whoever hurt him.

"I don't exactly recall." Knuckles pauses. "I assure you, Healer Maddie, I am fine!"

She formulates a mental list. Unconsciousness and memory loss pointed toward a concussion. What did being drained of power entail? He said he had recovered, but had he? Did he create more power? What other injuries came from being thrown through a wall?

"Okay," Maddie says, holding her voice steady. "Okay, sweetie. I've got a room ready for you. There's almost nobody here, so you don't have to be worried about a crowd. I'm gonna hang up now, okay?"

"That is acceptable," Knuckles gruffly responds. She hangs up and rests her head on her table. It's gonna be a long day.

[heretherebedork]

Mut spends the entire start of the episode antagonizing Rak, pushing his buttons, speaking to him in a dialect he doesn't understand, breaking into his hotel room, refusing to leave... and people are surprised that Rak thought he might be playing a prank on him by jumping off the boat? Why? It makes perfect sense to me to assume that he'd be playing a mean-spirited prank from the way he acted with Rak. That would have been my first assumption, frankly, and I saw that very, very on the nose little montage of him being the Most Perfect Person Alive.

(Rak was literally isolated on a boat he had no way of knowing how to drive and no way of knowing how to contact anyone and could easily have been stuck there for as long as Mut wanted and with no way of knowing where he was, what he was doing and even if he planned on coming back. Yeah, being upset and accusatory makes perfect sense to me.)

I get that Mut meant none of it that seriously but why would Rak know or assume that?

[waynes-multiverse]

Eeeeek, I'm bursting with excitement! I wanna know so badly what happens next. I've been hurrying to get the kid to bed to read this 😂😂

You follow his lead with your own rifle, falling into step with him through the forest clearing. It’s a beautiful day in late November. Already you can see the edge of frost on the shrubs and half-barren trees. The ground is littered with dead leaves painted in browns, oranges, and dappled with reds.

I love this description btw Really painted a picture in my head 😍👏

You snort. “Right. Think I’ll just leave you for the bears…”

Ouch. That line probably haunted her afterward 😂🙈 (but I loved their banter! You can totally see they have a close and loving relationship 💕) And her dad's optimism and "fate" was so adorable ☺️

You don’t see the elk, and soon enough, you don’t see your dad either. You do hear a whistling on the wind, and the cold of it cuts right through your coat.

Goosebumps... 👀

Dean continues to listen intently with his brows furrowed.

Ah, our boy entered work mode 🤓

Dean has packed up his supplies and put on his winter gear. You watch him from the living room sofa, trying to hide your unease. You know he’s doing this for you, but there’s part of you that doesn’t want to see him leave, for his own sake, and selfishly for yours.

Oh God 🙈 No, I can't watch him leave alone. At least get Sam!!! Oh God, no, no, no, no... 🫣

I also realized in that moment why my readers are usually "from the same foxhole" because this is exactly what I can't do. Freaks me the fuck out and gives me so much anxiety. Like, I have to be there 😂 I don't know how you do it. Bravo, friend 😅👏

“You shouldn’t be going out there alone,” you say.

Nooo, but you shouldn't follow him either... With the broken ankle 👀

“If I’m not back inside a week, you need to ration out the supplies here as best you can. That new meat in the fridge should last you a while.”

A week?!?!?! *gasps*

By new meat, you have to assume he means the bear.

Ooooh, btw, super interesting what you said about the bear meat! I figured something like this. They did wear bear fur, right? And I know people back then never wasted anything, so makes sense they'd eat the meat, too 😄

Right now, you don’t really give a shit about what he’d rather, but you don’t say so.

I cackled 😂 Love her feistiness!

After the first three days, you’ve managed to clean the entire cabin, top to bottom.

Oh God! I'd die worrying... 🙈🤣

On Day Four, you create a nest of pillows and blankets in the middle of the living room floor.

Aww 😭😭 Poor thing... 😢 (Loved how she explained not taking his room. While invasive, I think if Dean came back to this in his room, he would've melted 🫠🫶)

Then, you hear the sound of a lock turning, before the front door shoves open.

THANK FUCKING GOD!!!!!

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he murmurs into your hair. “Believe me, I am.”

I knew it was a long shot, especially when her father wasn't with Dean, but still breaks my heart for her 💔😢

He brushes your cheek with his thumb, collecting your tears there. You glance down at his plush lips again, your own parting with a breath. His hand moves to cup your cheek, framing the side of your face. Please… He finally drags you to him in a kiss.

The anxiety is long forgotten. All is forgiven... *sighs dreamily* 😍😍

“Sorry…we can’t do this,” he says, with difficulty. He sits upright and nearly makes you fall over in the process.

Oh no, you come back here, young man!!!

It wouldn't be Dean, though, without the "you can't date me, I'm dangerous and not good enough" freak out 😂

“I don’t even own this place. Besides my car, I ain’t got much of anything to give.”

Legit crying right now 😭😭😭 This is exactly why we always want what's best for him in fanfics. He deserves it so much 🥺

Or at least, it’s heat of a different kind, as his strong hands once again find your waist. They hold you still, but also hold you to him.

Love that little detail. Makes such a huge difference ❤️

Oooooh, I so can't wait to read the finale now! This is absolutely amazing, Alex! It's got the right amount of angst and heartbreak, only to haul me back into this sweet cabin romanticism 😍🤍🤍🤍

Against the Wind - Part 3

Pairing: Alpha!Dean Winchester x F. Omega!Reader 

Summary: You wake up in a strange alpha’s cabin in the middle of a snowstorm, all with a busted ankle. He holds shadows in his eyes, even though his hands are gentle. There are iron shutters around his heart, even though he saved you. You might just save him in return.

AN: Merry Christmas! I'm dropping this chapter a day early for you guys. Now, here's the full story, and what Dean is going to do about it…

Jacklesverse Bingo24 Prompt: True Mates @jacklesversebingo

Song Inspo: “Against the Wind” by Bob Seger

Word Count: 3.8K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only. Angst, mentions of blood, hint of spice.~

Series Masterlist || Bingo Masterlist

Part 3: Nothing Left to Burn

“We should start heading back,” you say, looking up at the mid-afternoon sky. It was starting to dip toward the top of the trees in the distance. “It’s going to take a couple of hours to get back before nightfall.”

“Yep, it’s about that time.” Your dad groans as he starts to haul himself back to his feet, where you two had been taking a rest against a tree. “Jesus, I need a new pair of knees. Help your old man, would ya?”

You smirk as you help the middle-aged alpha to his feet. His joints pop and his back cracks as he stretches his arms high.

“Damn, Dad. You’re creakier than the trees,” you quip.

He tosses you a wry look. “Just you wait. In a few years, after wrangling a couple of pups, you’re gonna feel my pain.”

“A few years?” you laugh. “Did I miss the part where I actually met a decent guy, let alone one worth mating?”

“Oh, you’ll find him,” your dad nods, slinging his rifle back over his shoulder. “Or he’ll find you, like your mother did with me.”

You follow his lead with your own rifle, falling into step with him through the forest clearing. It’s a beautiful day in late November. Already you can see the edge of frost on the shrubs and half-barren trees. The ground is littered with dead leaves painted in browns, oranges, and dappled with reds.

“You met her in college. It’s not like you guys defied fate,” you say.

“Yeah, but if she hadn’t walked into my psychology class by mistake, and stolen my latte at the campus café, maybe you wouldn’t be here,” he teases. 

You huff and roll your eyes. Yes, your parents are a walking cliché. And by far, your dad’s the bigger sap.

“I’m telling you. Sometimes, the universe does us a solid,” he says, reinforcing his point with a literal pointed finger your way. You push it away from your face in exasperation.

“You might wanna watch where you’re going,” you say, “before you roll your ankle on another pebble.”

“You kidding me?” he exclaims. “That thing was the size of my fist! You’re lucky I didn’t break an ankle. Make you carry me all the way back to the car.”

You snort. “Right. Think I’ll just leave you for the bears…”

You trail off when a sound reaches you and your father. The sound of leaves crunching in the underbrush, quick and light. Your father’s shoulders straighten with alertness, the alpha’s head cocking toward the sound.

“Maybe I spoke too soon about the bears,” you whisper. He shakes his head.

“Nah, too light. It’s probably an elk.” He tosses you a smile. “We’ll have one hell of a haul to bring home, plus a good story to tell your mom.”

Your mother, the vegan veterinarian?

“Yeah, because she loves elk meat.”

“Would you quit being a smartass for two minutes? You go a little west. I’ll see where it’s at,” he says.

He quietly wracks his rifle and steps away from the clearing, farther into the woods. You do what he says, veering west. You don’t see the elk, and soon enough, you don’t see your dad either. You do hear a whistling on the wind, and the cold of it cuts right through your coat.

Unease prickles down your spine, though you don’t know why.

“Dad?” you whisper-yell, trying not to spook whatever animal might be out there.

A gunshot rings out, along with your dad’s voice in a shout. Your eyes widen in alarm, and you call his name, taking off in a run to find him.

You end up rising over a hill you hadn’t crossed before, but you see your dad below; you recognize his bright blue puffer jacket that Mom got him for his birthday. You call his name, and he looks up at you with fear in his eyes.

Not for himself, but for you.

“Go, get out of here!” he shouts and waves you off.

“What? What is it?!” you yell.

He shakes his head, like he’s unable to answer your question. “Run! Run and don’t stop!”

He moves further into the denser trees until you can no longer make him out. With a frustrated huff, you sprint down the hill and try to follow his tracks with your gun at the ready. On the wind, in the distance, you still hear his voice.

Until it cuts off abruptly, along with the terrible cracking of bone.

You gasp and halt in your steps. What the fuck was that?

Tears fill your eyes and blur your vision. Despite what you heard, you realize just how very alone you are in the clearing. Fear and adrenaline make your breath tremulous and shallow, but you can’t just give up. You search for a while longer, making yourself hoarse calling out to your father.

No matter what direction you take, you never find him.

“I ran back to town to get the rangers,” you say, brushing a couple of stray tears from your cheeks. You sniff, licking your lips and swallowing a hard lump of emotion in your throat.

Dean continues to listen intently with his brows furrowed.

“It was too late,” you sigh. “He disappeared. They explained it away, thought a grizzly bear got him, but I know it wasn’t a damn bear.” 

You shake your head as the tears come harder and faster, all over again. Dean’s jaw clenches in sympathy.

“No one believed me about what I heard, not even my mom,” you confess. Your mother had been too distraught to entertain “anything else.” No matter how strongly you’d felt about your suspicions, you understood that she just wanted to put your father’s death behind her after his funeral. Part of you had stopped believing yourself. 

A stronger part of you hadn’t been able to let it go, however. So you had to come back here and try to find any trace of your father. 

When you finally run out of words, you see the proverbial gears turning in Dean’s eyes. 

“What’re you thinking?” you hazard to ask. You can’t help but reach out and grab at his wrist. “Do you…do you believe me?”

Dean’s gaze softens a fraction. He lays his larger hand over yours.

“Yeah, I do,” he says. “I’m willing to bet on what took him too.”

He squeezes your hand before he lets you go and gets up from his seat. He soon returns with his father’s journal in hand. He reclaims his spot across from you, sitting close to your thigh on the end of the chaise. His gaze falls away from your face to the journal in hand, and he flips it open to a page he knows from memory. You suck in a subtle breath to steel yourself when he turns it toward you—to the very page that had given you nightmares the first night you read it. 

Wendigo. 

“Nasty son of a bitch,” he says. “It hibernates for decades at a time, but when it surfaces, it knows how to get through long winters like this. It takes a handful of people at a time, feeding on its victims slow.”

You feel sick at that, but still, his words elicit a sliver of hope.

“So there’s a chance he could still be alive,” you say, in a brighter voice. Dean gives you a measured look, dragging a hand over his mouth.

“Look, I’m gonna be straight with you,” he says. “It’s been months, right?”

You nod, though you realize what he’s saying. Don’t get your hopes up.

“But there’s a chance,” you insist, with tears in your eyes. Dean holds your gaze for a moment, and he nods. He squeezes your knee this time, then shuts the journal with one hand as he moves to stand.

You follow him on your crutches over to the kitchen. He pulls out a drawer and retrieves a folded-up map. Tossing the journal on the kitchen counter, he opens up the map and lays it out flat next to the sink. It’s a map of the mountain, and the entire forest surrounding the mountain of Big Sky. Dean’s eyes flick up to yours.

“Where did it happen?”

Dean has packed up his supplies and put on his winter gear. You watch him from the living room sofa, trying to hide your unease. You know he’s doing this for you, but there’s part of you that doesn’t want to see him leave, for his own sake, and selfishly for yours.

“Try not to go outside again unless you absolutely friggin’ have to,” he warns. “And if you do, don’t go too far. Make sure you take a weapon, preferably a gun and a knife.”

“Dean, I know,” you reply. You get up and hover by the couch while he finishes lacing his snowshoes and hooks his backpack on. You’re unable to hide your concern.

“You shouldn’t be going out there alone,” you say. 

Dean tosses you a grin. It has the shade of how he was with you before the “journal” incident—self-assured, a hint teasing.

“Don’t worry. This isn’t exactly my first solo mission,” he says, though his devil-may-care attitude soon subsides into something more serious. “If I’m not back inside a week, you need to ration out the supplies here as best you can. That new meat in the fridge should last you a while.”

By new meat, you have to assume he means the bear.

“When you’re healed up, you can make your way down the mountain and back to town with that map I left for you. Kitchen counter,” he says.

Your frown worsens. You step closer to him with the pretense of closing and locking the front door for him after he leaves.

“Dean,” you say, stopping him at the door. He turns to look at you over his shoulder. You hesitate, fidgeting slightly, but you gain your courage.

“If you don’t come back, I’m going to find you,” you warn him.

Dean frowns. He turns to you fully and tilts his head as if to say, come again?

“No, you’re not, Omega. You understand me?”

His terseness doesn’t scare you anymore. You glare up at him, quite literally standing your ground.

“You didn’t leave me out there when you didn’t even know me. You think I’d do that to you?” you counter.

At that, Dean has to pause, tilting his head slightly. He almost smiles at your stubbornness, and just like that, his annoyance dissipates. It softens him, making him reach for your arm in an assuring squeeze.

“I appreciate the thought, but trust me. I’d rather you look out for you,” he says.

Right now, you don’t really give a shit about what he’d rather, but you don’t say so. It’s written across your face anyway. Dean’s mouth tugs at a smile.

“All right, I’m out,” he says. “Save me some of Yogi in there.”

You huff, but you shut the door behind him after he steps out onto the porch, down the steps, and beyond. You move to the living room window and watch him get farther and farther away from the cabin. 

Despite the crackling fireplace, you begin to feel cold inside. 

After the first three days, you’ve managed to clean the entire cabin, top to bottom. With the “new meat,” you make a large batch of soup to last you throughout the week. You freeze a couple of servings for Dean.

For when he gets back. 

You try to fill up your time in other ways, like attempting, and failing, and trying again more successfully to make bread from scratch. You haven’t binge-watched every season of The Great British Bake-Off for nothing.

Then you organize all of the alpha’s books by author. You wash all the laundry you can find and fold everything neatly on his bed, and you put away the couple of sweaters you’ve borrowed from him into your own dresser. 

On Day Four, you create a nest of pillows and blankets in the middle of the living room floor. In your anxiety, it’s a reflex you can’t help. Your initial instinct was to nest in his room, but you thought that was too invasive of his privacy, so the living room was your next best option. At least his scent is still somewhat imbued into his favorite chair, and around his records. (You do steal another shirt of his to sleep with though.)

On Day 8, your worry becomes a living thing. You pace the living room and the kitchen on your crutches, probably wearing down the wooden ends of them while you debate what to do. Despite what Dean told you to do if he didn’t get back, you know you’re not just going to leave him out there. But the reality is, you have a problem of mobility.

With a frustrated huff, you decide to try setting your problem foot down normally. Your ankle hurts, a sharp pain shooting up your calf and nearly sending you to the floor.

“Fuck!” you gasp, both in shock and aggravation.

You know this isn’t just a sprain. At best it could be a fracture, since no bone is protruding under the skin. It still means you shouldn’t go after him either. 

But you’ll have to try. 

After you manage to clamber back onto your feet using the crutches, you put together some supplies, including the extra med kit in case he’s hurt. (Or in case something happens to you while you’re out there.) This is a bad idea, you think, even as you heave on your jacket.

Then, you hear the sound of a lock turning, before the front door shoves open. 

A yelp of surprise escapes you, though you soon realize that it’s Dean, looking worn down and ragged, but alive. 

“Home, sweet home,” he says wryly, but he looks relieved to see you too.

You help him sink down onto the chaise, where he stretches out with a groan. He tips his head back on the cushion. His jacket is torn in a few places. Blood has dried on his cheek, his neck, and near his hairline, and you worry about where else he might be hurt. 

You quickly go to the kitchen and pour a bowl of warm water and grab a hand towel. You bring it all back to Dean, where you set your supplies on the floor and sit down beside him on the cushion.

“Are you okay?” You try to calm down your racing heart (and the nauseous feeling in your stomach) as you help him work open his jacket, followed by his shirt. Discreetly, your eyes take in the expanse of his tanned skin and pebbling nipples exposed to the cool air, even with the fire roaring nearby.

“Yeah, just peachy,” he says. 

You smile a little. You take the towel, dampen it, and begin to clear the blood from his cheek, his neck, and the upper part of his torso—even his scuffed hands. Then you squeegee out the blood in the bowl and continue your task. Dean subtly watches you, his gaze a bit softer than usual.

He eventually looks you over with a frown as he takes in the way you’re dressed, and then the backpack by the door. 

“What, about to go for a little afternoon stroll?” His sarcasm turns to annoyance. “Didn’t I tell you to stay put until you can actually walk?”

Your mouth flattens into a line, but any anger you might’ve felt is waylaid by your relief. It brings tears to your eyes. 

“I thought something happened to you,” you say.

Dean hesitates. Your hand has stilled on his chest. He softens a little more, grasping your hand in his larger one. 

“I’m fine,” he says. “The job’s done.”

Your eyes widen. “You found the…thing? The wendigo?”

His mouth pulls at a cocky grin, tempered only by his tiredness, and the way he’s looking at you. “Sure did. Tried to take a chunk outta my ass, but a little aerosol deodorant and a lighter’s all you need to barbecue that ugly son of a bitch.”

You smile in amusement, but all too soon, it fades.

“Did you find my dad?” you ask.

Dean’s expression sobers as well.

“Yeah, I think so.” His face gentles. “Was he wearing a blue puffer jacket?”

Your lips tremble. As that horrible realization dawns, you break down into tears. You already know from his tone that your father was dead when he found him. 

Dean guides you down to him by your shoulder and wraps his arms around you. You bury your face into his neck, and your body shakes with quiet sobs.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he murmurs into your hair. “Believe me, I am.”

He holds you close, warm and secure. He allows you to stay there as long as you need, where you feel safe, even if this world has become a colder, darker place. 

After a few minutes longer, your intense sobs begin to subside. You don’t mean to, but you turn your nose into Dean’s neck, scenting him on reflex. It calms you down, but it has the unintended effect of arousing him. The alpha rumbles in pleasure. 

You blink in surprise and lean back enough to see his face. Dean’s lips press together as he looks down on you; he seems embarrassed, but you also see the heat reflected in his gaze, so intense in those forest greens. Your face begins to warm in a blush.

He brushes your cheek with his thumb, collecting your tears there. You glance down at his plush lips again, your own parting with a breath. His hand moves to cup your cheek, framing the side of your face. Please…

He finally drags you to him in a kiss. 

It’s heady and passionate, and also comforting. Your fingers wind into his hair, your nails scraping along his scalp. He growls as his arm tightens around your waist. You shiver in delight.

You press a hand to the center of his chest, giving you leverage to rise up and slide your thigh over his legs. There you sink into his lap. Your breasts pillow against his chest when you lay on top of him, your elbows digging into the cushion on either side of his head. His hands move down your body, feeling down your sides, squeezing your hips, and then your ass. You hum into his mouth and roll your hips into his. Already you feel him hardening through his jeans.  

But somehow he breaks away from your kiss, even though your hands are still in his hair. 

“Sorry…we can’t do this,” he says, with difficulty.

He sits upright and nearly makes you fall over in the process. He grabs your arm before you tip over, but he keeps himself at arm’s length from you after you’re forced to slide off his lap, sitting on the end of the chaise instead. Your eyes glisten with hurt and confusion. 

“Why?” is all you can ask.

He doesn’t want to answer. 

“Dean?” you ask, inching towards him. He raises a hand to keep you at bay.

“Just…it’s not a good idea, okay?” he says, with the clenching of his jaw.

That cuts into you even more. Your heart pulses with pain.

“Do you know what your scent is to me?” you ask, in a voice slightly trembling. You glance at the fireplace that has dimmed to embers. “It’s better than that fire at full blaze. Every time I went camping with my dad, that’s what I loved the most. Sitting by that fire, talking, laughing, and for the millionth time, telling the story of when I gave my sister micro bangs in her sleep when I was ten.”

You wipe a stray tear from your eye, but you respect the distance he’s put between you two.

“The second I met you, I knew what this was,” you say. “I think you know it too.”

Dean shakes his head. His face betrays his wariness, his desire, and his obstinance. 

“Look…even if that’s true, you don’t want this with me,” he says. His handsome face becomes marred by a frown, his brows knitting together. “I don’t even own this place. Besides my car, I ain’t got much of anything to give.”

You shake your head in dismay. “I know that’s not true.”

“I’m not bullshitting,” he says. “Listen…I’ve never had much. And what I did have, I found a way to lose. I’ve let my people down. Just about everyone I’ve ever…”

You can’t help but reach out a hand for him, your heart hurting, but he leans away, pressing himself back against the seat. It cuts even deeper into you; now though, you wonder if it’s because he feels the same gut feeling you do when he’s this close—close enough to touch, but almost afraid of the burn.

“They’ve been hurt, almost always because of me.” His voice shakes imperceptibly, with a wry, humorless turn of his lips. “So take it from me, sweetheart. You’ll wanna steer clear.”  

“Dean,” you say. You expel a breath, digesting his words, while thinking of what you want to say.

“I’ve never not felt safe with you,” you confess. “Even when I screwed up and drove you crazy, I’m sure, I knew you’d never hurt me. The same way I know…”

You reach out a tentative hand to lay in the center of his chest, over his heart. Your thumb brushes the edge of his strange tattoo, over the dark ink in his skin. 

“You’re my mate. My one, true mate in this world,” you say, meeting his eyes. “And I want to know you.”

You see inner conflict in the depths of Dean’s eyes, dark green and troubled. You take a chance and lean in, brushing your cheek against his, nuzzling, laying a soft kiss to his cheek. 

“Omega,” he warns, but the grit in his voice has little heat.

Or at least, it’s heat of a different kind, as his strong hands once again find your waist. They hold you still, but also hold you to him. Your gentle affection is making him ache, deep in the shadowy cavern of his chest. He’d never admit it, but loneliness had set in there, burrowed deep with a stronghold on his heart. Without knowing, you’ve been carving it out with those gentle hands. 

You now slide your hands up his chest and over his shoulders, warm palms on his skin. 

“Alpha, I want to know you,” you insist. Quiet, but steady, your voice is a mere brush of words near his ear, against his cheek. “Please.” 

Dean’s brows furrow as he briefly shuts his eyes tight. With your whispered plea, the brittle chain of his restraint finally snaps free. 

He cradles the back of your head and guides you back into a feverish kiss.

AN: Sorry to cut it off there lol, but the big (steamy) finale is coming up next week! Perhaps a little earlier than Friday. 😘

Next Time:

“Were you nesting, Omega?” he teases, between the sinful meetings of his lips with yours. You hum your affirmation before his tongue swipes across your lower lip, seeking entrance.

You open yourself to him in more ways than one; you slip your hands across his naked shoulders and explore the smooth planes of muscle, the dips and softness in between. You encourage him to lower down, to cover you with the length and broadness of his frame. His weight is a welcome one between your thighs and against the softness of your body.

“Was worried about you,” you whisper a confession against his lips. Dean briefly pauses, meeting your eyes.

“Thanks for waiting up,” he says, with a hint of a smile.

Your lips curve upwards in return.

▶️ Keep reading: Part 4 (Finale!)

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[glitter-stained]

"This character can't be a part of the found family!!! They and [patriarch figure] don't have a father-child relationship!"

*staring at the board showing the other characters having deep intense found familal bonds with the character:* "....i mean i guess?"

[shalom-iamcominghome]

Me: I am interested in judaism ONLY. Show me content about jewish life, intellectualism, history, and daily life

The Algorithm, apparently: does this mean you're interested in mormonism... how about jehova's witness............... this is all you'll get recommended by the way

[mod2amaryllis]

who else haunted by an apology you never got the chance to make???? 🤪🤪🤪

[sporadicallyanenthusiast]

First of all, let me just thank you for taking the time to explain all of these points! There were many contexts here I didn't know about and it helps make more sense of the story! So thank you so much ❤️

And the thing about Ancient Greek and color is really fascinating! Kudos to the people that first began translating the ancient texts, because oh boy! Hahaha @mari--lace also mentioned in the replies how it is not a consensus on Athena's eye color either. I've only ever heard about the "wine colored sea" point, but never had the thought to dig deeper and learn more. I am definitely going to change that hahaha There are so many interesting things to learn, no wonder so many scientists have been studying the topic for centuries.

I'll have to admit, our poor Menelaus really did suffer a lot, dear Gods. Since my first contact with him was through the Odyssey and some fandom posts, sometimes I forget Agamemnon was his brother. And yes, as much as he loved Odysseus, learning about your brother's death like that can't be easy to digest. And the timeline of how long he stayed shipwrecked was a little fuzzy to me, so it makes sense that after 7 years, his memory would be hazy! I see what you mean when you refer to it as a vision/dream now. I didn't know Aegisthus had them exiled either, so that definitely adds even another layer to the hell Menelaus' life was at that time! We talk so much about Odysseus' hardships, but oh my, poor Mene didn't catch a break either, I'm appalled 😰 I have yet to wrap my mind around the fact the the poems were supposed to be performed out loud as well. A lot of the narrative choices make way more sense when you remember that, it's not just a regular book. I suppose that is why some things sound jarring when you read it for the first time.

And yes! Oh my, I never thought the texts would be so expressive and so warm, you know? We tend to have this idea that people from different times were too cold and distant, but they were still human at the end of the day. Of course they'd be affectionate to the ones they loved! And to be honest, it reminds me of when I read Sherlock Holmes for the first time. It really caught me by surprise how Sherlock and Watson were described and how they talked about each other in such a loving way. I don't know when we stopped writing platonic relationships so beautifully like that, but it truly is a loss to modern literature, in my humble opinion.

And I had no idea about Odysseus' own prophecy! I did know he tried to avoid going to war, but I just assumed it was because he had a newborn son and wanted to be there for Penelope. In that scenario, it really is fair to point out Menelaus trying to warn them wouldn't change much. On that note, Athena herself also told Telemachus Odysseus was alive and he didn't believe her, the Wisdom Goddess hahaha I hadn't thought about that before, but it really does illustrate how hopeless all of them were. If Telemachus didn't believe Athena, you're right, he wouldn't really care about Menelaus' letter either.

I knew about the law of Xenia, so I assumed that was the only reason stopping them from sending the suitors away. I admit I was a tad bit confused why Telemachus didn't force the suitors to leave once he outright had Athena's and Zeus' blessing, so your explanation really helped me make sense of everything!

It's such a nice and sweet detail to have Telemachus and Odysseus going through their journeys at the same time (Telemachus' first journey and Odysseus' last journey, even!), only to meet again at home and taking back control of their palace together. Maybe I teared up a bit, can't deny nor confirm hahahahaha

You are still way more knowledgeable on the topic, and your academic background gives a perspective other people might not have. So I think it's fair to call you as such 🥰❤️

Oh, I see! Sorry, I'm a bit too anxious at times and end up worrying too much that I gave the wrong impression or was rude by accident hahaha

This has been a lovely discussion indeed! Once again, thank you so much for being so kind to explain everything, I'll definitely be reading the books with new perspectives and insights!

Telemachus is so much stronger than me for real. Cause if I had traveled for days, by sea AND land, arrived at the palace of my father's friend and my mother's cousin to humbly ask if they know anything about my missing father and instead of just fucking telling me already, this mf started a monologue about how gay he is for my dad and about the time he captured a God that granted him wishes three, I'd already be telling him to Hurry The Fuck Up. IT'S BEEN TEN YEARS, I DON'T HAVE ALL DAY.

But if the same motherfucker then turned around and told me that he had known FOR YEARS NOW that my dad is trapped on an island AND THE MOTHERFUCKER DIDN'T TELL ANYONE!!!! NOT A SINGLE LETTER!!! I would have already strangled Menelaus with that fucking blond hair of his in front of his wife and children, unhelpful son of a bitch.