#i need to come up with an actual tag for this au

[onlinedolly]

SAVIOR COMPLEX 2

au where leon has a pretty little captive he thinks he’s saved

cw: manipulative leon, drug use, p in mouth, slight degradation, mentions of cum, obsessive leon, i think dats it folks

an: not proof read guys don’t kill me…..also this is dark/dd:dne content if you don’t like any of the tags above mentioned please do not partake in my content. as always MDNI!

Leon in his mind, was a perfect, downright good man. He was the star of his force, helped countless people a day, and saved you. Leon had swooped down and rescued you as if you were a baby bird with a clipped wing (at least that’s how he looked at it). And since then, the past four months in his home, Leon had never been so far on cloud nine.

People at work noticed, pushing into him and laughing asking if he had a woman at home that finally got that chip off his shoulder. And Leon would laugh and retort that he had ‘something like that.’

You were the definition of perfect, doe eyed and sweet waiting for him the waltz through the door like he always did and wrap you up in a big hug. It’d been a little over a few weeks since he let you free roam the home, trusting you since the outbursts had died down due to the pills he had you on.

When Leon got home that evening you were waiting by the door per usual as you heard the multiple locks turn. He came through the door smiling when he saw your tinier frame.

“Today was rough baby, come give me a hug, hm?” He spoke, holding his arms out as you wrapped yourself around him.

“Bet it was,” You spoke back, pliant and kind as ever, “I made dinner.” Leon could smell it then, the waft of spices flowing into the entry way.

“What a good, sweet, thing.” He smiled at you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

Dinner went like it usually did, with Leon filling your head with all of the gruesome details of the day. “Bet you’re glad you’re here, yeah?” He always asked after he was finished which caused you to nod your head eagerly.

You were a kind thing, he knows he says that a lot, but it’s true. Always had dinner on the table, listened to him so eagerly as he talked and winched when he told you about the death he witnessed at work. And maybe, okay, Leon stretched the truth a bit. A majority of his day was actually filled with paper work and a minor domestic case that came down to a misunderstanding, but you didn’t need to know that.

After dinner, like always, like a good girl, you open your mouth wide as Leon places the pills onto your tongue, shoving his fingers into the back of your throat slightly making you gag. You swallow them dry before looking up at him with a hazy love filled look. He grabs your face between his big hand, leaning down and pressing a kiss to your glossy lips.

“Why don’t we watch a movie, yeah? You pick tonight.” He spoke when he pulled away, running his fingers through your hair.

Like a good girl you nod eagerly pulling him upstairs into his bedroom (where you always ‘watched movies’), Leon laughing and following along.

Once up to his room you put a movie on, one Leon didn’t particularly care about, as you climb into the bed next to him, curling up. He smiles, places his hand around your hip and he pretends to listen to whatever nonsense was playing on the screen. His big hand made circles into your hip causing you to mewl under his touch.

“Missed you so much today sweet girl,” He spoke, gripping your hip a little tighter as you let out a shiver at his touch.

“Missed you,” You spoke dismissively, too intrigued on the movie in front of you.

“Sounds like you didn’t miss me too bad,” Leon spoke, referring to the way you were more inclined to watch the movie then talk to the man who saved you.

You gasp, “I missed you terribly, you gotta believe me.” You spoke out, looking up at him with glossy eyes. So well trained, he thought to himself. He loved the way you shook like a dog at the slightest inclination that Leon seemed upset.

“Why don’t you show me how much you missed me?” He spoke, pulling you closer to him by your hip. You knew what that meant, what Leon wanted when he asked that question, and before Leon could repeat himself you had his belt buckle in your hand.

“What a dirty thing,” Leon degraded, leaning back in the bed as you fumbled around with his belt. After a few moments you moved on to his pants, letting him lift himself up as you worked them down his legs. His cock sprung out, hot and angry as you immediately took it into your hands.

“Shit, not that hard baby, tryin’ to kill your old man or somethin?” He speaks running his fingers through your hair and pulling. You ease up on your touch, stroking him slowly at first until he quips an eyebrow at you causing you to pick your pace up.

“God—“ He groans, pulling harder on your hair as you wince in pain, “Feels so fucking good, baby, put your mouth on it. Don’t leave me hangin’.” He speaks out, tapping your jaw as you open your mouth and place your glossy lips around his tip. “That’s more like it, baby. *Good.*” He groans out, running his hand down your neck and back and you begin bobbing yourself up and down on his cock.

You choke a bit, still a little inexperienced, as you attempt to take his full length. Leon was big and thick, making it hard to fully take him down your throat. Leon’s a moaning mess underneath you as you bob your head up and down on his cock, hollowing your cheeks out which earns a deep groan from him.

Leon, unlike his words was a rough man, groping your tits and pulling your hair as he begins to rock his hips into your mouth, laughing a bit as you gag around his cock.

“Sweet thing, can barely take it all, hm?” He pushes further into your mouth as he says it, pushing past the ring in the back of your throat making you sob. You feel like you’re going to throw up and pass out all at once, but oh so determined you still sucked him down greedily, massaging his balls in your small soft hands.

Leon had never felt so blessed to have a thing like you as he shoves your head down, his bush tickling your nose. He was going to cum soon, you could feel it in the way his hips stuttered, his pace into your mouth quickening and becoming sloppier.

When he cums he pushes your head all the way down and you feel the liquid spurt down your throat as you choke and cry out. You’re forced to swallow like always, as Leon smushes your face down against his pelvic bone.

“That’s it baby, take it all like a good girl,” He growls out.

Once done he yanks your head up by your hair roughly and you whine as he grabs your face with a big hand, “Betcha your so glad I took you in, hm? Where else you gunna get dick like me babydoll?”

Your voice is hoarse and comes out as barely a whisper as you speak out, “N-nowhere sir.” You whine out, falling into his body in exhaustion as he lets go of your head, wrapping his big arms around you.

“I’m the best thing that’s ever happened to you,” He whispers as he places a kiss to the crown of your head.

“The bestest.” You whisper back, falling fast asleep into Leon’s arms.

Leon was a downright, honest-to-good man, a star in his force, and the man who picked you up and saved you.

[endwersed]

WIP Whenever

Tagged by the wonderful @hedwig221b 🩷

I'm giving my brain a (brief, I promise!) break from my current WIP to work on the start of the top voted idea from my recent long fic poll - thank you to everyone who joined in with that! My planned next story is going to be an ABO neighbours AU, where Derek is a firefighter and Stiles is a single parent. I've actually got the whole first scene already done, so... here's that! 😊

-

It is already gone midnight by the time Derek stumbles into his apartment building, exhaustion running bone deep as he crosses the lobby as quickly as his aching legs and weary feet will carry him. The imposing wall of mailboxes slides quickly past his consciousness as he steams by, the key to his own bitingly sharp where it digs into the meat of his thigh through his pocket, but he won’t take the time to stop and check it. Not tonight. Not with every strained muscle in his body screaming at him to dump himself into bed as soon as is physically possible.

Stuttering to a stop before the chipped-metal doors of the elevator, he summons what truly feels like every ounce of strength left within him to raise a hand up to the little grey button to his left. It takes him a moment of slow, sluggish, heavy blinks before he notices that grey has not shifted green, is not lit up with the promise of an imminent arrival. It takes a few moments more for him to realise there is a note, taped up to the door before his sapped-stupid face.

OUT OF ORDER

There it is. Spelled out right there, right in front of him. A stark white sheet of paper, blocked out with this bold, bright, blood-red lettering that makes his temples throb that kick harder. Out of fucking order.

“Fuck,” he mutters out loud, stinging eyes shut as he palms at his forehead. “Can today get any fucking worse?”

A question as rhetorical as it is futile. It’s not like there is anybody around to answer him.

His teeth grind together as his hand falls away from his face, dropping to hang limply down at his side. It is a real, genuine internal struggle to fight against the agitated claws that want to slice through his fingertips, and it is only his years of practice that keep them buried inside his skin, keep his palms safe from anything worse than the blunt score of ordinary nails.

Forcing his eyes open again, he twists away from the broken elevator and stomps the few paces it takes to be able to push through the solid door that leads him into the dimly lit stairwell.

Eight-oh-two. The number to his apartment, all the way up on the eighth goddamn floor. This truth puts an unreasonable and infuriating number of steps between his drained body and the familiar comforts of home right now.

Back when he first moved into this place, a little over a year ago, signing on for an apartment on one of the highest floors hadn’t even registered as a thought, as something worth even taking notice of. He is a werewolf, after all, with werewolf strength and werewolf stamina. An alpha werewolf, at that, and with all of the preternatural advantages that come along with that particular status. A few measly flights of stairs were nothing, not to him.

That arrogance is coming back around to bite him in the ass now, though. He was perhaps a little too hasty when he signed his name on that dotted line; perhaps lacking in the foresight needed to anticipate the apparent inevitably of returning home off the back of the shift from hell, only to find himself staring down the barrel of concrete stair after concrete stair after concrete goddamn stair.

He bites back the fatigued groan that wants to rip from his chest and lifts his leg to drop the first boot down onto the first step. Fantastic. Now only a hundred fucking more to go.

Climbing and climbing, heavy footstep after heavy footstep, his entire body singing its raucous protest with each and every stride onwards and upwards. He makes it up one flight, then two, then three and four and five, and it is when he is turning the corner for the sixth, rolling his neck to stretch out the deep crick in his joints, that his ears catch onto a nearby sound, quiet and unexpected.

It sounds like… shit. It sounds like a kid. It sounds like a child, a boy, young and scared and alone, definitely nowhere near old enough to be roaming the halls of this not-very-nice apartment building in their not-very-nice neighbourhood, this late at night and without any supervision.

Instantly, Derek stops short. He tilts his head to the side and holds his breath, listening, tuning into the sound of the boy humming a tune that Derek does not recognise, softly and shakily. The footsteps that Derek can hear are light, aimless and hesitant. The siren call of home, of bed, leaves him in a flash. He turns to follow where his ears can lead him.

With each hurried pace forwards, with each hastily rounded bend, the sound grows louder, easier to pinpoint. The humming in constant, quiet and rhythmically repetitive, but those footsteps falter, more than a few times, halting with a short catch of breath, a skipped beat of a heart. As Derek draws closer, his nose wrinkles around the sharp, sour scent of fear.

The kid isn’t far now. Derek can tell, because the boy has stopped moving entirely. Listening in to the faint thump of a back hitting a wall, the slow slide of fabric against painted plaster as the boy slides down it, another soft thud as he meets the carpeted floor beneath. He carries on humming, never deviating from that same, lilting tune. But Derek can still hear the small, broken, hiccupping sobs, choked and breathless in a way that makes Derek’s heart clench, makes him break into a speed he would not have considered himself capable of, only moments ago.

He is practically sprinting as he crosses that final stretch, pushing through another set of heavy doors and out into the hallway of a floor he has never ventured to before, until – he finds him.

Curled up on the floor, with his knees tucked up to his chin and his arms wound tightly around his shins, is the child. He cannot be much older than six, if that. He is wearing pyjamas, fire trucks printed all over the soft cotton pants, a large one taking up the middle of his chest. His brown hair is a messy mop on top of his head, sticking up wildly close to his temples, and his face is pale around his flushed cheeks, spilled tears staining tracks against his skin.

It is clear that the boy hasn’t noticed him yet. Derek can tell from the way his face stays buried against his legs, his wet eyes screwed shut and his lower lip wobbling with his tears. Derek slows himself down to a cautious kind of pace, careful to press on with light feet to avoid spooking the boy with any sudden noises.

At only a few steps away, Derek pauses, keeping his hands held out in front of him. He silently curses himself for not bothering to take the time to shower and change back at the station. He doesn’t need a mirror in front of him to remember that his white tank top is a mess of black soot, his face smudged with smoke and dirt. He knows that he hardly looks like the kind of adult a frightened little kid is likely to trust.

He has to give it a try, anyway.

“Hey,” he says gently, and the boy’s wide eyes snap up to look at him. “Are you lost?”

Now, Derek is not typically very good with kids. Something about him tends to just… scare them. Laura says it’s his face. Derek generally tells her to fuck off. He doesn’t necessarily disagree, though. Today, add in the fact that the last fire of the night left him looking like, well, this, and he finds himself at even more of a disadvantage than usual.

No answer comes from the boy. He simply blinks up at Derek, his eyes red and damp. He sniffs, a breath that trembles as he pulls it in, and he unwraps one arm from his legs to wipe at his cheek with the edge of one sleeve. His heart beats unsteadily as the scent of his fear takes on a bitter, panicky edge.

Derek lowers himself down to the ground, dropping down to his haunches, intentionally unhurried. He meets the boy at his level and does everything he can to look even just a little less terrifying than Laura always tells him his resting face is.

“It’s okay,” he tries again, hands clasping between his knees. “I just want to help you. Do you live in this building?”

A heavy beat passes in silence. He breaks into a soft smile when the boy finally gives him a slow nod.

“That’s good, that’s great,” he carries on. “Do you remember what floor you live on?”

This time, the boy shakes his head. The corners of his mouth turn down, his eyes growing watery again, the air salty with nearly shed tears as his chin wobbles. Derek takes one look at the boy’s distress and has to swallow around a thick lump in his throat, forcing the reassuring smile at his mouth not to waver.

“It’s okay, that’s fine, we can figure this out together.” He presses an open palm against his own chest. “My name is Derek. Can you tell me your name?”

Another pause. A good few seconds where the boy simply peers at him, merely stares with those big, brown, tearful eyes, so full of nerves, wide open with apprehension. Derek makes sure to hold the boy’s gaze steadily, not allowing the curve of his mouth to slip. He waits quietly, patiently, as the boy sniffs again, chin still trembling as he tilts it up into the air.

“Johnny,” he says.

His voice is so small, shaking as he speaks. Derek lets his smile open around his teeth.

“It’s nice to meet you, Johnny.” He nods down to Johnny’s shirt. “Do you like fire trucks?”

Johnny blinks owlishly at him for a second, before returning that smile with full force. His grin is huge, crooked and gap-toothed, and the scent of fear dissipates so quickly that Derek actually finds himself a little taken aback at such an abrupt shift in emotion.

“I love fire trucks,” Johnny says, with all of the childish sincerity in the world. “Did you know not all fire trucks are red? Sometimes they’re yellow, or green!”

Derek bites at the inside of his cheek, a slight ripple across his shoulders with his soft laughter.

“I did not know that,” he replies. “I’m a firefighter.”

Johnny’s jaw goes slack immediately. Derek doesn’t bother tamping down his next breath of laughter.

“That is so cool.” Johnny pushes forwards onto his knees, hands flat to the itchy carpet as he inches a little nearer. “Do you get to ride in the trucks?”

“I do,” Derek says.

“That is so cool,” Johnny repeats breathlessly.

Derek can feel his eyes crinkling with the spread of his smile, head tilting as he takes in Johnny’s earnest excitement. This kid is absolutely adorable, he cannot help but think. His parents must be missing him very much, if they’ve woken up and realised he has disappeared into the middle of the night.

“How did you end up out here?” Derek asks.

The easy smile falls away from Johnny’s lips at the question, pressing into a tight line instead, his eyebrows drawing quickly together. His eyes drift just over Derek’s shoulder, sliding to somewhere behind him, and Derek follows his gaze with a twist of his neck, finding himself staring through the window on the opposite wall, the night out beyond it black with darkness and white with stars.

“I couldn’t see the moon,” Johnny says when Derek turns back to him, his voice melted soft and scared once again. “I just wanted to see the moon, but then I got lost, and papa always says I should sing my lullaby and find a nice person to help if I get lost, but then I couldn’t find anyone, and I don’t know how to get home, and I –“

“Hey, hey,” Derek comes soothingly in, two palms held placatingly out. “It’s okay now. You found me, and I’m going to help you.”

Biting down on his bottom lip with the one front tooth he has left, Johnny nods. He chews for a quiet second, tilting his head slightly as he considers Derek, before crawling that tiny bit closer, still on his hands and knees.

“You live next door,” he says, quiet but confident. “I remember.”

Derek blinks. He doesn’t recognise this kid at all, cannot honestly say he has ever seen him before. He isn’t exactly pally with his neighbours, though. He isn’t exactly pally with anybody except his sister. Hell, he’s barely even pally with her.

Vaguely, he does recall that he got some new neighbours, a couple of new people moving into the vacant apartment beside him, maybe just a little under a month ago now. Now that he thinks about, he is relatively certain that it was a guy, an omega, a single parent with a young kid. It would make Derek’s job of getting Johnny home a whole lot easier, if true.

“Are you sure?” Derek asks.

Johnny nods, quick and sure.

“I’m sure,” he answers. “You have a doggy. He’s brown and he has floppy ears and you call him Buddy.”

Oh. Okay. Well, that clears that up, then.

“You’re right. I do have a dog called Buddy.” Derek puts his smile back in place as he extends a hand out. “Can I take you home now?”

Derek can sense Johnny’s hesitation even before he smells the faint wave of worry in the air.

“My papa says I shouldn’t go with strangers,” Johnny mumbles.

“Your papa’s right,” Derek replies immediately. “But I’m your neighbour, and I just want to make sure you get back home safely. Is that okay?”

One more long pause. One final slow nod. Johnny fits his small hand into Derek’s palm, fingers curling around Derek’s knuckles, taking Derek’s help as he clambers to his feet, limbs clumsy as he arranges himself into a standing position. Derek rises up with him, rolling up to full height and finding that the boy barely comes up to his waist.

A tilt of his head lets Johnny look up at Derek. That lopsided smile is back on his face as their eyes meet. He keeps his firm grip on Derek’s hand as they stand together.

“Okay,” he says. “I’d like to go home.”

“Okay,” Derek echoes back. “Let’s get you home.”

Any earlier exhaustion has faded into nonexistence as they climb the stairs in tandem. Johnny chatters away about what seems to amount to literally anything and everything that comes into his mind, and Derek is more than content to simply listen as they ascend, supplying a little him here or a quiet ah there, just to make sure Johnny knows he’s still listening.

It is only a few more flights until they reach their floor, Derek swinging the door open for Johnny to pull him through. Derek leads them deftly through winding halls, all the way to the far end, where Derek knows his apartment is, and, apparently, Johnny and his papa’s, too.

“Derek,” Johnny says, tugging at an attention he never actually lost, Derek humming an acknowledgement, anyway. “Can I meet your doggy?”

“Not tonight.” Derek holds back a laugh at the immediate pout that juts Johnny’s lower lip out. “We need to get you home, your papa will be worried about you. You can meet Buddy another time.”

Johnny’s eyes go wide as he gapes up at Derek. Derek smiles back down at him.

“You promise?” Johnny asks.

“I promise,” Derek vows.

A few more paces, and then they are coming to a stop in front of a closed door. Johnny falls quiet all at once as they stand before it, chipped metal numbers nailed into the wood, reading out a number close to Derek’s. Eight-oh-three. He wastes no time in raising a fist and knocking just beneath them.

Seconds pass. He does not hear even a shuffle of movement coming from inside. Maybe Johnny’s father is out. Maybe he woke up and discovered his kid missing and is out looking for him, roaming these halls in search of his wayward son. Derek tightens his hold on Johnny’s hand and knocks again.

This time around, something stirs to life on the other side. Bedsheets rustling, a lamp flicking on. A grumbled curse under breath and bare footsteps padding along a wooden floor. The click of a lock, a moment before the door inches cautiously open.

It really is just that, though – an inch. There is barely enough space between the door and its frame for Derek to peer through, to see into the darkness of the quiet apartment, to make out the shape of a sleep rumpled figure standing just inside, narrowed eyes fixing Derek with their suspicious gaze. If Derek didn’t have his superior vision, this would mostly be a blur to him, right now.

He is a werewolf, though. He can see what humans can’t.

The omega in front of him is clearly just roused from a deep sleep. His dark hair is a mess, entirely reminiscent of his son’s, and he is wearing nothing but a loose t-shirt, falling down slightly over one bony shoulder, a pair of boxer briefs keeping him modest on his lower half. He has freckles sweeping across the soft slope of his nose, moles dotting the height of his cheekbones, a sharp jaw and a pink mouth, currently pulled all the way down into a severe sort of frown. Even in these shadows, Derek can see that Johnny gets his big, brown, soulful eyes from his papa.

Absently, Derek wonders how the hell he didn’t notice an omega who looks like this moving in next door. He pushes the thought quickly aside and plasters a trustworthy smile onto his face.

“Yeah?” Johnny’s father prompts, his voice sleep-rough and palpably impatient.

“Uh, hi,” Derek says. “I think I found something that belongs to you.”

Derek tips his head pointedly down towards the space just at his side. He watches on as the guy follows with sceptical, unhappy eyes, right up until they take in the sight of his son, still holding tightly onto Derek’s hand, pressing firmly up against Derek’s leg. The very moment his gaze lands there, is widens with shock, not a second passing before he is swinging the door abruptly open with the harsh knock of his shoulder.

The heart beating away behind his ribcage ratchets into overdrive. The scent filling the air snaps instantly into fear.

“Johnny!” His face shifts into fury as he stares at Derek with apparent disgust. He reaches out immediately to snatch Johnny’s hand out of Derek’s, pulling the boy quickly into the apartment even as he still sneers at Derek. “What the fu– heck, dude? Who are you and why do you have my son?”

Derek takes a sensible step backwards as he throws two palms up.

“I found him downstairs,” he hastens to explain. “I was just helping him get back home, that’s all.”

“Derek lives next door, papa,” Johnny chimes in, blinking up at his father with a dopey grin, free arm clinging around the leg nearest to him. “He has the doggy. You remember the doggy, right, papa? The one with the ears?”

For a second, Johnny’s father just blinks right back down at him. His teeth grit together as he lifts the hand not gripping onto Johnny’s to scrub roughly over his face, skating up to run through his messy hair afterwards. His mouth purses around a shuddering sigh as he leans down towards his son.

“What were you doing downstairs in the first place, kid?” he asks.

It doesn’t look like Johnny wants to answer that one. Not for his father, at least. He drops his head to stare at where his socked feet are scuffing into the wooden floors, his mouth studiously shut and his eyes fixed anywhere but at his worried papa. Derek wonders just how many times this kid has gotten in trouble for pulling stunts like this before.

“He said he wanted to see the moon.” Derek isn’t entirely sure why he hasn’t backed off for his own apartment just yet, but he jumps in to help explain, all the same. The omega’s sharp gaze snaps back to him and Derek tries not to let himself be too bothered by the mistrust in his eyes. “I think he just got a little lost. Right, Johnny?”

“Uh huh,” Johnny mumbles, still not looking up.

Johnny’s father’s mouth is parted as his eyes swing between Derek and his son.

“He wanted to see the…” He trails off with a shake of his head, a crease between his eyebrows as a sigh pushes out from his lips. He drops down into a crouch, lifting a finger to crook beneath Johnny’s chin to tilt his head back up. “Johnny. What have I told you about wandering off without me?”

“Not to do it,” Johnny whispers.

“Exactly,” Johnny’s father breathes. “So why, kid?”

Instantly, Johnny’s chin wobbles. Derek genuinely has no idea how this kid’s father stays strong in the face of that. Especially not when his eyes go glassy, eyelashes starting to clump wetly together.

“I’m sorry, papa,” he says quietly.

Johnny’s father pulls him into a tight, quick hug. He lets Johnny press in closer, lets him tuck his little face into his neck, the fingers of one hand carding gently through the dark mess of Johnny’s hair. Derek simply watches silently, helplessly, and a little awkwardly, on.

“Don’t cry, sweetie,” Johnny’s father says softly. “I’m not mad. I just – I need you to be safe. Okay?”

“Okay,” Johnny sniffs wetly. “I am sorry, papa.”

“I know you are.” Johnny’s father presses his mouth to Johnny’s temple, a moment of touch before he pulls out of the hug just enough to look Johnny in the eye. “Now, I want you to go into your room and get back into bed. I’ll be in in just a minute so we can talk a little more. You understand?”

“Yes, papa.” Johnny turns his gaze up to Derek with a small, still tearful smile. “Thank you for helping me. I can’t wait to meet your doggy.”

“You’re more than welcome.” Derek offers a real, genuine smile in return. “I’m sure Buddy can’t wait to meet you, too.”

Sparing a final, impish, excitable grin in Derek’s direction, Johnny allows his father to guide him further inside the apartment with a firm hand pressing against his back. He throws an overly enthusiastic wave over his shoulder as he disappears into the darkness. Derek can’t help the fond smile that sticks to his mouth as he watches the kid go.

That smile slips entirely when he tears his gaze back to the boy’s father. This guy looks decidedly less impressed by Derek than Johnny did. With one eyebrow arched, he folds his arms defensively over his chest, pinning Derek in place with a long, hard, parental sort of frown, a clear accusation clinging to its edges.

“So,” he says. “You.”

Derek feels his eyebrows shoot halfway up his forehead.

“Me?” he replies. “What about me?”

The omega catches his tongue between his teeth. His big, brown eyes are narrowed down to slits.

“You just happened to be lurking the halls at,” he pauses to glance at something on the wall beside him, “one o’clock in the freaking morning?”

Derek forces himself to stay rigidly still, forces himself not to give into the almost overwhelming urge to capitulate into some kind of false confession under this guy’s harsh unwavering glare. He tips his chin up and shoves his hands as nonchalantly as he can into the depths of his pockets.

Even more so than his first encounter with Johnny, he is achingly aware of how the events of his shift have left him looking right about now.

“I work down at the fire station.” Unsurprisingly, he doesn’t get anywhere near the levels of enthusiasm from Johnny’s father as he did from Johnny when he reveals this career path. “I was just getting home from a shift when I heard him walking around on his own. Figured he could use some help.”

Johnny’s father purses his mouth, openly appraising Derek with the slow drag of his eyes. They sweep down and up the length of him, from his old jeans to his dirty tank to his smoky face. Eventually, the omega blows a sharp breath out through the slight parting of his lips, letting his eyes widen from their suspicious squint, at least just a little.

“Fine,” he sighs out. “I guess I should probably say… thank you, then.”

Derek scoffs a laugh at the complete absence of sincerity in his tone. He gives a short, disbelieving shake of his head as he stares incredulously back at this guy.

“Don’t strain something on my account,” he replies drily, before letting his own eyes narrow right back. “You know, you’ve got a good kid there. Smart. He only agreed to let me help him because he recognised me as your neighbour.”

Johnny’s father clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. He rolls his eyes as he uncrosses his arms, letting them hang loosely down at his sides.

“Yeah,” he mutters. “He’s obsessed with your dog.”

“I gathered that.” Derek hesitates a second before ploughing on. “He really is welcome to meet him, if he wants. If it’s okay with you.”

It looks as though Johnny’s father barely even registers this offer. He waves a flippant hand in the air between their chests.

“Yeah, sure, whatever,” he says. “Look, it’s late. Thanks for not turning out to be a creep, I guess. I’ll see you around.”

Derek already has his mouth open around a response. A cutting, caustic, offended retort to this guy’s apparent indifference, apparent agitation, that Derek literally jut helped his son get safely back home. But, before a single word can pass through his gritted teeth, the door slams shut, right in his face. Echoingly loud and blatantly final, leaving Derek standing out alone in the harshly lit hallway.

He sighs. He was looking forward to getting his ass home, he supposes.

Digging his keys out of his pocket and only grumbling under his breath a little bit, he takes a quick sidestep until he can stand in front of his own front door, until he can shove the key into the lock and twist his wrist to kick it open. He hears the instant shift of Buddy waking up inside, soft paws against the wooden floor as he pads from his bed in the corner over to where Derek is stepping over the threshold.

The door snicks shut behind him as he crouches, scratching fingers going right to the spot behind Buddy’s ear that he loves. He is granted a low rumble and a wagging tail for his troubles.

“Hey, Buddy,” he greets. “I met a big fan of yours tonight.”

Buddy pulls his head away from Derek’s hand in favour of rolling himself onto the floor, belly-up in open invitation. Derek breathes out a laugh even as he immediately dives in to give pets as so politely requested. He lets his mind drift to next door as his fingers move through soft fur.

He wonders just how much of a scolding Johnny must be getting right now. He hopes the kid will actually listen this time around, will actually let the warning to not go roaming around the building late at night ever again on his own sink in. He tries to imagine how Johnny’s father must be feeling, scared and relieved all at once, such an instant flood of overwhelming emotion at being handed the kid he hadn’t even realised he had lost.

It would explain why he was so rude to Derek, just now.

Or maybe he’s just a dick. Who knows?

Either way – there is no point dwelling on it. In all honesty, that is very likely the first and last interaction that he will ever have with that pair, with that father and son, that omega and his kid. Derek should be putting his mind to more important things right now, like getting his ass into the shower, and then getting his ass into bed, precisely where it should have been a damn while ago already.

“C’mon,” he says as he stands up, Buddy rising with him. “Time for bed.”

If he happens to dream of big, brown eyes and a panting, pink mouth…

Well. That’s nobody’s business but his.

-

Low pressure tags! @crownofstardustandbone @dear-massacre @demonicfaerie @eevylynn @like-lazarus

@lucky-bishop @patolemus @raisesomehale @seaweed-water @violetfairydust

[pagodazz]

the people who use habit in their own "args" even tho ur tumblr blog is not an arg as you are just stealing an actual character and pretending like it's yours, the emh guys don't give their consent for you to do that. Now they can't stop you, nor would they attempt to, you should just know they actually dislike it and would rather you didn't. They said this in a beyond emh, now they don't mind roleplay accs this is mainly about people who are trying to start their own SERIES with habit. but you should know CANONICALLY everyone is DEAD. they cannot actually come into your story. If you had been making your own "slender series" even if it's just on Tumblr, you can't pretend you're in contact with one of the emh guys (including habit) as they are dead and no longer in OUR plane of existence.

The emh guys said they do not give you consent to use their characters in such a way, and if you do they'd consider it disrespectful. But if you're simply roleplaying as the character or making an au comic or something like that it's FINE. bc it's within the realms of THEIR story. You're not stealing their characters and making them you're own. Many of the blogs I see need to keep this in mind I think. It's kinda annoying to see all these accs hog the HABIT tag or just the emh ones in general.

if you guys want me to I'll find the clip of the EMH guys talking about this, since I'm assuming there are people out there who will think I'm saying shit to say shit, but I PROMISE YOU I'm not lying. They genuinely don't appreciate it, and honestly Evan has never been one to enjoy roleplay accounts but he does not mind them, only when they try to take his character and make him into something new or try and insert him in a series which he does not belong in. (Not talking crossovers, I'm talking about the same people who make a "new series" with habit. Like he is not you're character. You don't get to use him like that.)

Like I said before, they won't take any action against you as they didn't make any money off emh and they don't exactly have "rights" to it. But its still basic respect to not take someone else's content and use it in your own creation. Like make up a NEW antagonist. I promise you it'll be a lot more interesting to people if you're original and not relying on fans of a completely different media that is not you're own. Like people don't like your account for your story, they're only interested in the fact you're using Habit to push it. And I fear that's going to be demotivating for a lot of people who are making these. This is why you have to do you're own thing and not just steal someone else's character.

You have to remember that everymanHYBRID is not up for grabs, just because we're fans it doesn't give you the right. You don't see marble hornets fans making their own args and being like "AND THEN JAY MERRICK SHOWED UP AND WE-" like dude. it'd be insane to do that. People have to start giving that same energy to people who are using habit like this. Im not saying harass people or tell them to take their stuff down, I'm simply saying they need to be educated.

[poolboyservice]

I was gonna respond via tags but I am a big talker and the tags were too cramped

to be honest, I cannot remember WHY you had to take away religious items for the meantime, lore speaking. Outside of lore, though, it was a direct reference to vampires and even certain kinds of zombie media, where they have an extreme aversion or weakness to religious items, likewise with how they and TVES have something to do with the sun and so on. TVES was practically inspired by vampires/zombies, along with analog horror/infection AUs such as Mandela catalogue, my little worms, and the tangi virus. Not exactly proud to admit that, but I can't change the past, as much I want to.

Though, if I had to guess on what I had in mind for the LORE reasons: it's basically so the person doesn't hurt themselves or others, whether it's by choking, stabbing, or any other bodily harm. It also is why if the room has a window with glass, you need to board it up instead, so they don't break it and hurt themselves. It's actually a direct reference to Party Poison, as they have a rosary on their wrist.

That's just my best guess, but if you have theories yourself, I'm more than happy to accept such, because I honestly have blackout amnesia on making this post and cannot remember my original ideas (go figure)

as for the party poison thing: we were going to make a fanfiction on what happened, which was going to be in the form of diary entries written by either Jet Star or Kobra Kid. It would originally start with the four (+ girl) coming back from a firefight, where party complains about being dizzy and extremely thirsty, before going back inside for yhe rest of the day. It would progress from there, going through all the symptoms of TVES but with the addition of growing teeth, coughing up fire, and other "supernatural symptoms". Basically it was TVES nightmare mode. It was honestly based off of real experiences I went through, although very much exaggerating such lol

I had a small draft going on, too! However, due to severe mental health decline, school pressure, and general stresses of life, I ultimately had to give up on writing altogether. It started as a break, but then spiraled to a hiatus. I'm better now, or as good as I can get, and I'm getting back to writing! I may revamp either this, or refresh my fanfic idea. I really like TVE, but I feel disappointed in myself for basically abandoning it and, by extension, failing you guys.

MADE A FAKE ILLNESS FOR THE KILLJOYS UNIVERSE OMG?!?!

I'm gonna make this a fanfic and post on ao3, if you're curious and wanna read ;] short summary I made before we get into symptoms and whatnot:

Television Eyes Syndrome, also known as TVE or TES, is a condition developed from prolonged, direct exposure to the sun outside of Battery City. Its name was derived from the false assumption that this condition was caused by the televisions made by BLI, due to the infected often being drawn to TV screens, though it's been learnt later on that this behavior is caused by the light it emits, and not the contents of the TV.

LONGER summary, symptoms, key signs to spot, and treatments under cut

While many people have been affected by this illness for decades ever since the Analog War, it's only recently that it's been recorded with an actual name. Though not contagious, the people who get affected can act very violent and caution is to be taken when treating them. The people who go through this limbo between normal zone runner and wavehead are often called 'heliacs', due to them often behaving in ways that can be described as near hysterics, and the origin of the disease coming from the sun. One of the most famous and well known cases of TVE/TES is Party Poison, partly due to their fame, but also how disturbing the case was, as described by their fellow members.

Symptoms of Television Eyes (TVE/TES) include but are not limited to:

Dizziness

Splotches of red skin, tones may vary

Yellow sclera

Exhaustion

The intense desire to go outside that doesn't go away after doing so

Loss of the feeling of needing to drink

Difficulty or inability to produce saliva, tears, and sweat

Frequent vomiting

Difficulty eating or swallowing

Hair falling out

Key signs of Television Eyes (TVE/TES) to look in other people:

Mildly slurred speech

Knotted hair

Odd attraction towards light of any kind (confusion with the sun)

Abnormal behavior

Includes behavior such as staring up towards the sky, constant staring at lamps, headlights, or other sources of light

High levels of irritation with no previous history of such

Involuntary smiling or giggling (effects of the high given from the sun)

If the heliac reaches to latest stages, or successfully transitions to a wavehead, treatment is still possible, but very difficult to achieve.

Instructions for if someone you know is holding these symptoms:

Keep them inside at all costs

Take all possible weapons away from their possession

Keep lights off or as dim as possible if needed

Do not interact with them verbally or give eye contact during the day

Such communication is less risky as night, but caution is needed

Take away all religious items from their possession, this is for their safety

Lockdown:

Keep them confined within one room, this is for their safety

If there is a window within that room, board it up, so they cannot access the outside, nor can they break the glass

If the window has no glass, simply install tarp from the outside so they cannot tear it down

Make sure the door is locked, or barricaded

If they try to call out for you to let them out, do not listen, this is for your safety

If they are actively roaming outside of just one room, keep close friends and loved ones away from their sight

Keep them inside the room until it is all quiet

[lea-sbian]

Playing with some older turtle designs for my au. I think I want the main plot to take place when they're all a little older, like late 20s or early 30s type deal so their training Casey in all four elements will be a little more... organic? I'm not sure yet. I'm working on a comic that gonna be fleshing out the dynamic between Leo and Casey a little specifically. We'll see if I can actually stick to finishing it haha

[demigod-of-the-agni]

The pishacha are manifestations of evil itself, locked within a cursed amulet. The wearer of the amulet is at the mercy of the demon, known for possessing humans and feeding off their host's chakra energy. However, if symbiosis is achieved, the pishacha can grant its host a myriad of powerful abilities.

I just needed to draw something cool okay. I needed to draw some cool goop and some cool looks okay. okay. if I didn't post this I would have exploded okay

[katiekatdragon27]

Guys what is this book and what is the Bill on it? All I know is gay shapes-

A. Sphere: I'm not calling you "Good Boy" A. Square, that court case was SHIT.

Me earlier: Wow! The Book of Bill just came out, that's cool ig.

Everyone recently: *being super active in the tag, watching the movies, relogging and liking my art*

Me: *me carrying some small doodles over* WHO ARE YOU PEOPLE???

Thanks for bringing me back to brainrot by spam-liking all my old posts guys I forgive none of you (/J I LOVE YOU ALL)

More stuff below cut (BE WARNED NEW FLAT-PEOPLE SOME OF IT IS LOWKEY SPOILERY):

A. Square and A. Faux Line: Damn, that circle kinda a hottie- ...

I had this silly idea after my 29374th time watching Flatland that a majority of the first part of the movie is just A. Sphere watching all the shit go down like the worst telenovela you've ever seen. Also, that A. Line was originally going to be the apostle, but... uh... she can't really do that anymore, so he banks all his money on A. Square.

Also, I thought it would be super funny of A. Square and A. Faux Line both crushed on A. Sphere when he first showed up lol. Crazy smooth priest spawns and everyone swoons.

Older Hex doodles too. I love Hex, they're such a real one the whole time. With all the faults of Sphereland, I do like Hex maining in that one. But I also like picking and choosing which things I take as canon in my own work, so you get young adult Hex with their totally not-romantically-involved-with-at-all partner Punto (P. Octagon).

It's been a bit since Flatland happened in this hypothetical, so A. Square's still around. He's trying to be supportive of his masc-nonbinary kid who likes kissing boys, but still has to be annoying with dad jokes and the occasional backhanded compliment. He means well tho.

A. Tesseract: Hello A. Square!

A. TESSERACT OH HOW I'VE MISSED YOU POOKIE <3333. She's probably one of my most favorite ocs I've made (and the one that gets the most art <3) She's also the one I feel the least awkward about shoving into the source material lol. I yearn to work on A Heightlander's Escape again, but we'll see.

I just wanted to draw something cute between her and A. Square. She may or may not be the voice at the end of the movie hmmmmmmmm.

At least A. Square would end up in good hands.

"There is always something beyond. There is always INFINITY."

Just a little doodle of smth I may or may not render cuz I really like how it looks. There is always something greater after all.

Thank you all for the recent support on those old-ish drawing, y'all made my week tbh. I have a new AU cooking for this so look forward to that lol. Have a good one :)))

[crispyjenkins]

mandalore the young cont.

original post/discussion here! it was just getting really long and i for one hate scrolling so far, so. here's this. have also added this au to my masterlist in my pinned post!

@malcontent-crow

#i had a whole wall of tags and it didnt save! lets try this again#i am loving this. the potential for world building and the consequences of knowing more than you should (literally)

#i had forgotten that DW wasnt in peoples thoughts as a threat during the Clan Wars#and the idea that Pre was so far underground with the movement is a very good thing to remember as well! #on one hand you have this driven and spirited young verd that is inspiring Clans to start reassessing who they are fighting and why#on the other you have this clanless outsider that knows waaaaay too much about all the potential major players and is saying#that this major threat isnt really as gone as everybody thought and hoped. sith parallels out the wahoo for ppor obi#and hes standing there watching them all argue over his head about this threat that he KNOWS needs to be dealt with#he is seeing himself as pretty on par or above with the Old Guard in terms of mental age or prowess or large scale battles#so he sees them doubt him maybe even to his face and knows he'll need to get things started on his own

#and becauae everything in the galaxay has at least one person watching it from the outside... how quickly does the news of a jedi padawan#going off the rails on this mission get out? whos keeping track and who points fingers at the jedi for attempting to control the outcome#of the war of their historical enemies in their favor? the senate (read sith) want mandalore defanged before their war but what does it look#like the jedi want? how does the council answer for his actions? do they condemn or condone him? do they try to stay out of it?

#the world building potential of the Manda and the Ka'ra is delicious.#what does it mean to be a mando or darmanda? can you walk around and have people look at you and know you have failed in your oaths?

#and ouch! Obi-Wan considering the fact that he has never been allowed to be his own person.#from padawan to knight/master and then a general and councilor and sheesh. hes really never had the chance to see who he is as a person#outside of his responsibilities to everybody around him and right now hes a war worn adult in a war worn teens body#hes always had somebody else there. as a battle companion a teacher a student as somebody to protect and guard and guide#and now he has this entire culture looking at him and waiting for his next move. and im guess it still feels like less than a burden than#the care and raising of an entire child on his own. sure he had the temple resources and other jedi to lean on but anakin always looked to#him first to solve any problem or teach him something new or cuddle him after nightmares as hes trying to hide his own dreams#and grief and flounding to find his footing as an independent adult

#so right now hes looking around at the entire mando population and realizing thats he might need to reshape himself again for somebody else#to make himself what others need and knowing he can and will do it if it means saving somebody else

#and when exactly did he come back from the war? did he have satine die in his arms and see the ruin that is madalore after a pacifist reign?#does he see the potential for that ruin to happen right now if he doesnt succeed? where does he see himself in regards to the jedi?#has he considered the consequences of stepping up to be the Mand'alor to this culture he has never seen as his own?#has he let himself think about the choices he needs to make and how some things you cant always come out the other side the same as before?

(following the trend of each of these getting longer, this has hit just under 5,000 words, so just a heads up lol? so much world building is happening in this one)

sorry you had to rewrite so much! that last exchange was cursed, it seems lmao

it's so easy to write Obi-Wan as prescient, or the route I'm going with in Dha Kar'ta, so i think it's a fun change-up to have him knowledgeable for completely different reasons! I'm actually going to avoid visions almost at all for this Obi, but everyone else certainly won't know the difference, and he doesn't tell them otherwise (though he won't encourage it either. I do actually have a Naruto time travel where Nart pretends to be psychic à la Shawn Spencer, so that isn't the route I wanna go for this Obi). the consequences of knowing too much, indeed

hmmm many of these questions depend on how deep into Jedi and galactic politics I wanna go, and I'm not sure it's very deep at all. or at least, not very dragged out. i'll explain in a mo

SO first: yes, this Obi is from after Satine dies, in 19 BBY, maybe a month or so after, but before the bombing of the Temple so before Ahsoka left the Order. He was back on the front, no time to properly mourn, though he was doing his best, and was meditating on the whole war, but especially the Sith and their hand in everything that happened on Mandalore. It went deeper than Maul, he knew, had been going on longer than Maul and even Dooku, and it occurred to Obi-Wan that the Sith either wanted a Mandalore that will side with them but not be too much a threat, or they wanted them not a threat at all. He realised his hand in that, in helping put the New Mandalorians on the throne that led to the demilitarisation of the entire sector. Obi-Wan had practically teed Mandalore up for Dooku and then Maul's interference, and if the Republic won the war, he could all too easily see them doing another excision. won't get too much into it to save it for the fic, but he is mediating with something beskar, and he gets a lil too deep into the Force, and of course this is post-Mortis so...... 👀

so this Obi-Wan, back in time, is helping Mandalore to prevent any more Sith machinations in the future, to change the future for the whole galaxy, but even before he's Chosen, he realises he's also doing all of this for Mandalore. for his own hand in its destruction, for the Jedi's hand in the Excision, for his personal connection to Satine drawing Maul to it. it's for atonement, for reparation, and also because Mandalore deserves to be saved, and Obi-Wan is in a place he can help do that. it isn't just about the health of the galaxy, anymore.

I usually shy away from having Obi-Wan leave the Order, no matter what AU I'm throwing him in because I believe in the fundamental goodness of the Order and the people in it, and Obi-Wan is fundamentally a Jedi, one of the best, one of the best. however, in this case, I don't think he can have his cake and eat it too. if Dooku had to leave the Order to accept his countship, then Obi-Wan would have to leave to become Mand'alor. Jedi are (supposed to be) politically neutral, and Obi-Wan is all too aware he'd nullified his own neutrality the moment he decided to go for Keldabe to find Jango.

one of my favorite... tropes? in time travel fic is Obi using his future fellow councilmembers' access codes to get into things he shouldn't, and he certainly knows how to work the Order's internal systems in his favor, so he

wait so i was gonna have him go in and tender his resignation from the Order directly into the systems, and backdate it for before the Mandalore mission, so that anything he's done on Mandalore so far cannot be blamed on the Jedi BUT WHAT IF he just. deletes himself. like completely. from admin to the Archives to the crèche's own internal systems to the Shadow's private servers, Obi-Wan Kenobi was never a Jedi, was never a Temple bastard, was never Qui-Gon Jinn's padawan. his mission records are all in Qui-Gon's name now, his medical file simply doesn't exist, his crècheling clan is listed as simply having been a person short compared to other clans that year. he goes so far as to delete comm histories with him or mentioning him, it's like Obi-Wan Kenobi just doesn't exist anymore.

he does this first thing after leaving Jango, he spends the entire week back to Mandalore ensuring he's been completely erased from absolutely anything relating to the Jedi, and then uses his future councilmember knowledge (and lessons from Quinlan) to erase himself from Republic systems, too. any planet he'd helped as a padawan will suddenly have no records of him as having been there with his master, so the senate or Order can't subpoena them for the info, though Obi-Wan knows he can't have gotten everything (such as any planet not in the Republic, or who don't have holonet access to their files, or both, like Melida/Daan), but he figures he's done enough to absolve the Order if anyone comes knocking about what he's doing.

he buries his lightsaber in the deserts of Mandalore, not knowing that in his old future, he'd have done the same on Tatooine.

so as far as the Jedi are aware: Obi-Wan went on a mission with Qui-Gon that (predictably) went to hell, got separated from his master for weeks to months, then suddenly changed, at the same time their Jedi with the highest prescience collapsed due to his visions, which have also changed. Obi-Wan left Qui-Gon behind to hightail it through the Mandalore sector, and Qui-Gon couldn't catch up or find him, and then Obi-Wan disappeared from anyone's radars for two weeks. then Qui-Gon senses him reenter the Mandalore system, right before breaking his training bond with him, and the Order wakes up to Obi-Wan completely erased from their systems like he never existed in the first place. everything is going so so wrong, and yet. and yet.

and yet the Force is telling them all that this is right, that this is the least Dark course of action, that whatever Obi-Wan is doing is indeed the Will of the Force

so the Order mourns one of their own, and tells Qui-Gon to let him go. and then the Order ups their cyber security because what.

i think he leaves an unsigned letter/comm message for a few people. Bant, Quinlan, Mace, Feemor, his old crèchemaster, Yoda, maybe Jocasta Nu. it's short, basically thanking them for their hand in his upbringing (Feemor hasn't even met him before so is very confused by this), apologising for leaving abruptly, but to follow the Will of the Force, he had to leave; the first part of the message is all the same, but ends with little individual notes. he apologises to Madam Nu for fucking with her archives and hopes she can one day forgive him; he asks her to keep her friends close and to mend the tension between her and Dooku, that Obi-Wan should not know about. He tells Yoda that the future is always in motion but they must move with it; he asks Yoda to meditate on his dwindling lineages and learn to accept all that he cannot control. He reminds Quinlan to wear his gloves and asks him to thank Tholme for looking out for him when Qui-Gon wouldn't or didn't; he thanks him for their years together, and asks him to check in on Feemor every now and then. He apologises to Mace for all the shatter-points he likely caused and will continue to cause, and suggests he put a permanent reminder in his comm to remember to refill his migraine prescription that sixteen year-old Obi should not know about. He asks Bant to look out for a young Togruta initiate that will join in seven years, and suggests Bant might like the healer track rather than the knight corps; he thanks her for being his longest and most dearly-held friend. He thanks his crèchemaster for realising his visions were more than dreams (which will inadvertently lend credence to that theory for why Obi-Wan changed so suddenly), for supporting him when Bruck was at his nastiest, and for always being someone he could turn to even after he became a padawan. For Feemor, Obi-Wan apologises that they hadn't had the chance to meet before then, and for the relationship they won't have anymore; Feemor has no idea who this message is from, until he starts hearing the gossip that Obi-Wan Kenobi has left the Order again. He too mourns never getting to know his padawan brother.

and Obi-Wan sends Qui-Gon a message, of course, thanking him for his teachings, apologising for "leading him on" as an apprentice, leaving and coming back so many times only to permanently leave this time. he reminds Qui to reach out to his friends and his support system, asks him to at least consider talking to a mind or soul healer about Xanatos (knowing that once it gets out that Obi-Wan is a planetary leader, it will likely badly trigger Qui-Gon), and asks him to at least try and mend his relationship with Dooku, though understands if that's not something Qui-Gon is willing to do. asks him to keep Satine safe, but to deeply think about why the Republic is so intent on helping her faction, and why Qui-Gon had questioned so little of the New Mandalorian ethos.

so by the time Obi-Wan finds the Old Guard, he's broken from the Order completely, has buried his saber, has broken his training bond, has cut his braid. I think he shaves his head entirely to let it grow out at the same rate, because the padawan cut is *Eliot Spencer voice* Very Distinctive. he paints his armour white for, yes, his men, his vod'e, but also for cin vhetin. he can't be the man he was before, nor the teen he was before, neither are who Mandalore needs, and as long as he can stay true to his morals and upbringing, he will be what Mandalore needs him to be.

okay now onto the Manda vs. the Ka'ra vs. the Force. the Force is a scientific concept of an energy connecting absolutely everything in the universe, and the Jedi have a religious view on the scientific concept. for both purposes, the Force just is. I really like the idea of other non-Jedi ideas just being different aspects of the Force, different religions and cultures based on the same scientific concepts. for Mandalorians, their "aspect" of the Force is the Manda, the collective souls of every Mando'ade that's ever marched on. just what it means to be Mando'ade has varied greatly through history, and is varied between different groups even now, but none of that changes what the Manda is, which is an aspect of the Force only Mando'ade can touch. sort of like their beliefs of it being separate from the Force have made it so?

now I haven't really talked about this before, but from the beginning of me writing Mandalorian related things, i've separated Ka'ra from ka'ra, which was a little bit me misremembering there was another term for "stars", and then it became it's own thing. kar, meaning "star", with it's plural kar'e or kare, to me, means physical stars, the way we'd call our sun a star. ka'ra, uncapitalised, is the more poetic and/or spiritual "stars", the way we might say something is "written in the stars", which actually aligns with how jate'kara is spelled; for my writing, i've used this form for Mandalorian Force-sensitives being Star-touched ka'ra-touched. Ka'ra, capitalised, is that "ruling council of fallen kings", the Mandalorian myth and it, the way I've always interpreted it, is a separate part of the Manda made up of specifically the souls of every Mand'alor already marched on. So, Tor Vizsla could have joined the Manda after death, but not the Ka'ra; make sense? all that ka'ra vs Ka'ra worldbuilding was done very early in my writing for star wars, and has since expanded to include the idea of the Manda as something separate, and I would now actually consider Manda-touched over Star-touched to describe Force sensitive Mando'ade, because that's really what I think Mandalorians would consider causes their supernatural powers: ancestors rather than the stars.

so what does that mean for this fic? the Manda is directly influenced by all those that consider themselves Mandalorian, Force-sensitive or not. it is, however, not affected by New Mandalorians, unless they worship the Manda in some facsimile, and I think many, many, many do not, not the way they were raised to. this worship looks different for every clan and every individual, and I've always interpreted it as more of a broad spiritual practice across the whole culture rather than a religion, per se, the way a real-world broader culture might pray at shrines at New Years even if individuals themselves or their family aren't religious. this is what I'm referencing when I say the Will of the People: the alive Mando'ade and their choices and emotions affecting and influencing the Manda, the collective amalgamation of every passed-on Mando'ade, and it's when these two are in tandem that they "pick" a Mand'alor. HOWEVER, such a pick is also up to the Ka'ra, the Mand'alor'e that have all marched on; to one day enter the Ka'ra themselves, a Mand'alor must be "picked" by both the People/the Manda, and the Ka'ra. Tor would be "picked" by a significant part of the People and the Manda, and so would Jaster have been, but (according to me, myself, and i, obviously), only Jaster had been chosen by the Ka'ra. Pre is "Mand'alor" only in name, only in a tenuous loyalty existing in House Vizsla and Death Watch, not even by the Manda; just simple human (et al) loyalty. Jango had a weaker "pick" from the Manda than Jaster did, but was picked by the Ka'ra, meaning if he did not declare himself dar'manda (even just internally; I don't think he's ever said it out loud), he would have joined the Ka'ra after death; if he ever reconnects with himself as a Mandalorian, I like to think he'd have that chance again. Canon Jango, though, who went on to make the clones? Absolutely not.

what does this all mean for Obi-Wan? he'd spent weeks inadvertently drumming up support in the people and therefore the Manda, and maybe most haven't really looked at him and thought "sure I'd follow him as Mand'alor", but they have looked at him and thought "that one has mandokar, that one wants what's best for Mandalore, that one is touched by destiny". I dunno, man, like. Obi-Wan is their hope before he is their leader. That will make all the difference when he does end up uniting them. His searching out Jango had made Jango finally confront that he feels dar'manda, until then he hadn't really lost the Ka'ra's support, but that severs that connection. and now the Ka'ra are without a Mand'alor, but look at that, there's a mandokar'la little idiot right there, already strong in the Manda, already rallying hope and purpose, already so invested in the nurturing and the future of Mandalore, how could the Ka'ra not choose him?

I posed the question previously whether or not Mando'ade can tell who has been chosen to be Mand'alor, and I think I've ironed out what that'll mean for this fic. non-Force sensitive Mando'ade will have this sense when near their Mand'alor, a subconscious and inherent trust in them, and indeed, some will be disturbed by this and fight it. that's alright, that's their right. Some never clock this extra sense, some are aware of it always, some just chalk it up to "gut feelings" and the like. The more spiritual or religious Mandos maybe put a little more stock in this feelings, I think especially goran'e and other spiritual leaders, but the fact that the Manda can technically pick more than one person at a time (like Tor and Jaster, and then Jango), this extra sense isn't a perfect indicator of a properly chosen Manda'lor.

now. what about Force sensitive Mando'ade? Well, the Manda is an aspect of the Force, and is in fact how said Force sensitive Mando'ade connect to the Force, by going through the Manda, first. their relationship with sensitivity is inherently different from others in the galaxy, at least those that connect to it directly. they are the ones that can sense or see if someone is chosen by the Ka'ra, depending on their sensitivity. Some see the ghostly line of previous Mand'alor'e stretched out behind them (like the Avatar cycle lmao), some see a wavering crown of stars around their head, some just sense there is a duplicity (/neutral) to their Force presence that doesn't exist in anyone else. how common is Force sensitivity in Mandalorian space? not fuckin very. Jaster had three in his entire faction of aprox. 2 million (fanon number), at least that were aware they were sensitive. Jango only had a few more, and only because he had gained a couple hundred thousand more followers before Galidraan. so i'll make the nearly-arbitrary number that Force sensitive Mandos are 1 in 1,000,000, across the entire sector. by some calculations, in the whole galaxy at around the time of the Clone Wars the number of Force sensitives is 1 in 5,000,000 but these calculations do not generally include societies and species with a near or 100% chance of Force sensitivity, because we simply don't have the data for it. does this all make Mandos slightly more likely to be Force sensitive than others, by my own numbers? sorta. which i'm making an issue of underreporting, based on Mandalore not being a part of the Republic, and also contention with the Jedi and Sith; they don't consider those Manda-touched to be Force sensitive, and with the way I've built this, they aren't exactly wrong.

for the purposes of this story, there are maybe eight Manda-touched Mando'ade in the Mandalore system at this time, and all but one are goran'e. that single non-armorer is part of the Old Guard. I have the roster for the Old Guard decided, so I'm debating whether the Manda-touched one is Cort Davin (a journeyman protector), or one of the women. Instinct wants Vhonte Tervho, but I have plans for her to be related to the goran Obi-Wan got his armour done by, who I wanted to be one of the seven Force sensitive armorers, soooo. lmao how fucked would it be if Isabet Reau is the Force sensitive one? I like the angst of that, since I definitely do not plan on redeeming her, but I kind of want the only Old Guard that can sense Obi-Wan is Chosen by the Ka'ra to be really quiet and accepting of it, while everyone else is arguing. hmmm I have an unnamed Wren as part of the Guard, that I haven't fleshed anything out for yet; perhaps them?

okay I think I've solidified what it makes a Mandalorian, at least for the function of this fic. it is tied to the Resol'nare, and following it, which does allow those who had Chosen Tor Vizsla as their Mand'alor to technically still be following the Resol'nare, and are therefore not dar'manda. at least not for that. but part of the reason the Resol'nare is even able to determine who has a Mandalorian soul, is because they believe it does. Those alive and those dead influence the functionality and reality of the Manda, which also allows for those pre-Resol'nare to still exist in the Manda. What causes someone to become dar'manda, if they are technically following the Resol'nare?

maybe it's reductive, or over-simplified, or maybe even too broad, but it makes sense to me and allows for many many different types of people to still fail, and this is obviously not the only way to become dar'manda, but one thing that will always strip someone of their Mando soul? treatment of children. caring for children. not harming children. this allows many of Death Watch to still maintain their Mando souls, but still be fucked up awful people in other ways. It allows even True Mandalorians to have lost their souls and not realised it because they otherwise adhered to the Resol'nare, because they'd chosen to interpret "defending oneself and family" and "raising your children as Mandalorians" to not include other peoeple's children. Or maybe they were abusive in the belief they were caring for their children. This would also make every single one of the Cuy'val Dar dar'manda, which I think is a fascinating concept.

to answer your question directly, no, one cannot look at someone and know they're dar'manda, even the Force/Manda sensitive ones. one will only know in death, whether or not they have a place in the Manda.

NOW what does this mean for New Mandalorians?? well, by technicality and the way I've set the Manda up, one can interpret the Resol'nare in ways that could align with New Mandos. Perhaps they interpret "armour" as more than specifically "beskar'gam", maybe they wear armourweave or other protective fabrics. Maybe they interpret "defending one's family" as putting down arms instead of raising them, in order to create a peaceful future for their children. I think there are plenty of New Mandos that technically tick off all the boxes, and believe in themselves and their fellows so much that the Manda is like "yeah sure why not, we'll make that count". I think some tenants are more easily... bent, like swearing to the duchy in place of the Mand'alor, but I think an easy one New Mandos miss, is "speak Mando'a." I think many New Mandos were all too quick to switch to Basic for everything except religious and spiritual ceremonies, and I think those already in the Manda would find that very hard to forgive. I actually get into this a little in Dha Kar'ta very soon, but for this fic, i'll have Satine not outright outlawing Mando'a, but it is socially heavily discouraged. you're not allowed to speak it in the palace unless in aforementioned ceremonies, you cannot fill out paperwork in anything but Basic, you're not allowed to use Mando'a titles (including Mand'alor), you're not allowed to teach it to your children. no outright like. punishments for speaking it in public, but if your kids are caught, there are repercussions, including investigation into how else you're raising your kids, and if you're found to be doing anything else, they can take your kids from you. not every New Mando agrees with this, of course, and go about adhering to the Resol'nare as best they can in secret, but so many do give up the language by convincing themselves it's not as important as the other tenants and, well, the duchy hasn't steered them all wrong yet, has it?

okay so on the subject of what the outside galaxy is seeing. I like the headcanon/trope/idea of like. the one thing all factions of Mandalorians agreeing on is fuck everyone else. oh, the New Mandos will emulate the Core and the Republic, but they aren't the Republic nor want to be, and this animosity extends to keeping as many internal Mandlorian issues just that: internal. no faction can keep news from leaving the system or the sector, obviously, but there also isn't a lot of interest in Mandalorian news? "oh look all the Mandos are fighting again", except that's been the standard for like. actual thousands of years. I like when fic have people outside the sector not evening knowing there are different factions, so I'll be doing that here, too, and I like the idea of non-Republic sectors having their own holonets, separate from the Republic one. so like, if Obi-Wan happens to go a little viral during his mad dash to Keldabe, that would be on the Mandalorian holonet, not the Republic one, so even if Obi-Wan was visibly still a Jedi (and he wasn't), actual news of him wouldn't reach the Mid and Inner Rims until like. possible years after it happens.

could this maybe be expedited by Sith machinations? absolutely, though I'm not sure I want to go that route, since I don't think the Sith are overmuch interested in Mandalore at this point, at least not in any hands-on capacity. I'm unclear on whether them funding Death Watch is fanon or not, but it is a headcanon I subscribe to, and I think they'd have stopped funding DW after Galidraan, to cause worse infighting and prevent DW from gaining enough power to actually restart their imperial conquering days. Palpatine has been senator for about ten years by this point, but has very little political power overall, and Demask would be looking basically anywhere but Mandalore at this point in time, both of them having written it off until they actively need something from the sector. if anyone had clocked Obi-Wan as a Jedi, this all would have gone very differently, news would have spread much further and quicker and I think undoubtedly would have reached Palpatine, but since I have Obi-Wan just... cutting ties to anything Jedi, news of him remains in-sector. is this perhaps unrealistic? maybe, but I kind of want to focus on Mandalore and not worry about galactic-wide politics for once, lmao, actually very much like Obi-Wan is doing. however, he will clock a lack of Sith interference and thinks That's Very Weird.

haven't decided how he finds Palpatine out yet, but I think it'll have to do with his Manda senses being different than his Force ones, maybe the Ka'ra even gives him a few tips or gifts to sense Sith since they've allied and fought with them so much in the past. regardless, that'll be after he's become Mand'alor and united the clans.

now to actual plot progression! Obi-Wan meets up with the Old Guard, they don't know what to make of him other than "he's kriffing weird. and young. and creepy. and probably Manda-touched." whatever other verd is Manda-touched will see him blessed by the Ka'ra, which causes them to look inwards more closely and realise they trust Obi-Wan inexplicably, which means they're blessed by the Manda and the Will of the People, too. they wonder if Obi-Wan has noticed, if any of the other Old Guard have noticed. they are one of a few that notice Obi-Wan sneaking back out while everyone is arguing.

Vhonte Tervho is another. She's at this lil summit to represent clan Tervho, tho isn't the clan head, because her ba'vodu, a Manda-touched goran, had sensed she needed to be at the summit. said ba'vodu is of course the armorer who reforged Obi-Wan's armour (need to find a name for them hmm), who had told their clan they were to cease fighting until their new Mand'alor called on them. Vhonte sees Obi-Wan, realises at the same time as everyone that he's the Kih'Manda, the Mand'ika that the entire system had been gossiping about for weeks, and she thinks of what her ba'vodu said. she looks inwards, like they had taught her to, and finds, yes, she trusts Obi-Wan, just like she used to trust Jango. And, well, her Mand'alor is obviously leaving to go do something, and she isn't going to let him go it alone.

the Manda-touched verd doesn't go with them, wanting to see what comes of this, but they already know Obi-wan is Ka'ra Chosen. they will come when he calls.

[eggcats]

I really need to figure out a name for the "Alastor just thinks his own thoughts about Vox are universal and has not had a single question since" AU tbh, bc they've taken over my mind atm and I need something to easily tag it without clogging the main tags

Because I'm just imagining, like, Alastor unintentionally doing a lot of the same shit that Valentino did to Vox when they dated, except the way Alastor does it just makes Vox feel more confident in himself and their (totally fake and for clout) relationship - especially because Alastor's not even doing it on purpose

Like, I need them to be this:

Except instead of buffalo chicken dip, it's definitely a random sinner who insulted Vox within Alastor's earshot. He's still eating them alone, on the floor, and covered in blood, though. The room is now a bloodbath, and they're banned from ever going back.

(When he sees Vox, he offers him the best parts - Vox (obviously) says no but he's spent enough time with Alastor to know the parts he's being offered are Alastor's favorites to eat so he's extremely charmed and flattered, lol).

Either that, or Alastor had a sip too much of whiskey and Vox was in the bathroom so long Alastor thought he left, so Alastor just took over the music and is by himself doing the Charleston. Alastor immediately grabs him and makes him dance the second he sees Vox. Alastor ALSO insults his dancing the entire time.

I just need an Alastor who just refuses to even consider that it might just be HIM who is attracted to Vox and insists he's definitely dating Vox to make the rest of hell jealous, but still (even not knowing a single thing about dating or relationships) being a better partner to Vox just by sheer virtue of thinking Vox is a catch.

Very much their energy needs to be:

Vox: *realizes he's lost Alastor at the bar they went to together* Great, it's fucking Val all over again.

Alastor: *currently eating someone for implying they don't find Vox attractive* Darling, I was just taking out the trash! Imagine being so stupid to not even REALIZE how they feel about you!

Vox, holding his screen in his hands: Yes. Imagine that.

[amtrak12]

HELP! I've fallen down a Bering and Wells hole again and can't stop watching fanvids. I misssssss them!!! 😢

[mariatesstruther]

okay but a version of events in which tommy takes ellie to the fireflies, but NEITHER of them come back. and maria joel have to work together to get them back

[artfartt]

Ok what if summer camp au?

[aceghosts]

Rooney Shepard (They/Them): RELIC AU

There are stranger things I've learned on the outside Separated by an open door I find it hard to reach the end of my timeline Salivating 'cause I wanted more Is this the end or is this the beginning? -Too Close/Too Late by Spiritbox

[Template Credit]

Tagging (Opt In/Out): @bbrocklesnar, @marivenah, @alexxmason, @captmactavish, @carlosoliveiraa, @socially-awkward-skeleton, @nightbloodbix, @voidika, @strangefable, @captastra, @amalkavian, @katsigian, @cassietrn, @g0dspeeed, @clicheantagonist, @cloudofbutterflies92, @direwombat, @onehornedbeast, @thedeadthree.

[okawarihappylife]

i am once again thinking abt the lost potential that is hypmic.

[luminessdoodles]

so yknow how i was debating whether to pair my new yuu with rook or not? WELL!!!!! it seems some yuus are made for yumeships, some find yumeships, and some have yumeships thrust upon them

[semi-completely-original]

i usually don't post art here, but i'm unfortunately shadow banned on my normal apps since i reposted too many palestine updates. oops! i'll try my luck here instead

there's a fem!haikaveh takeover lead on twitter rn and one of the loudest champions of this is my lovely mutual who inspired this outfit by giving me femveh brainworms :3 she is a WOMAN IN STEM!!!!!