#john pork au

[smickerdongleamericanpatriot]

Hey!

I and a friend are in the process of writing an insane crackfic about John Pork (of John Pork is calling fame) X Yuuma (My horse prince).

You can read the first chapter here https://archiveofourown.org/works/50793790/chapters/128313955

it is crack but we are actually putting time and effort into this.

Essentially, John Pork is an idol who goes to a photoshoot at the ranch Yuuma (the manhorse hybrid) lives and it's love at first sight. But it gets complicated, especially when John Pork's ex, Colonel Sanders, comes into the picture (uhhh he isnt in it yet but he will be).

Art + Post by Hal :))

[ktwritesstuff]

Nothing Else Matters (a Triple Frontier shifters AU)

Title: Nothing Else Matters Fandom: Triple Frontier Rating: Explicit Characters & Pairings: Reader x Triple Frontier Boys reverse harem style Word Count: ~2,000 Summary: Your faves are werewolves and you get to pork them. And you are also a werewolf. Yeah. That's pretty much it. Beta-read by the incomparable @bs-fangirl. Additional content notes below the cut.

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six

Content Notes: No sexy times in this chapter, but issuing a content warning for some medical drama, my total lack of understanding of the Spanish language, and completely made up shifter nonsense.

Chapter One

Three weeks ago you were convinced Santiago was dead.  And now you were holed up in his safehouse in St. John while he led the rest of your pack on a suicide mission through the Columbian jungle.  You hadn’t been keen on being left alone with the baby in unfamiliar territory, but you didn’t dare complain.  You might have been able to convince Frankie to sit this one out–he had a good heart and he was fiercely protective of baby Luna–but you couldn’t ask that of him.  Not after landing the both of you in hot water for getting pregnant against your Alpha’s wishes.  

You tried not to wonder why the trip that was supposed to last 5 days had stretched out to two weeks, but it was hard not to imagine all the things that could have gone wrong.  Some nights you woke alone in a strange bed so frightened it was all you could do to wake Luna and encourage her to nurse until you could barely keep your eyes open.  

You were relieved when the boys’ boat finally pulled into the dock, until you saw the state that Will was in–bleeding from his stomach, barely able to stand on his own.

You searched their faces for clues to what had happened: Will pale and in pain, Benny agitated and fretting over his brother, Santiago was stern, nearly impossible to read, and Frankie just seemed sad.  You counted them again: four.

“Where’s Tom?”

Santiago pointed to a human-sized bundle of canvas tied with rope at the back of the boat.  A wave of dizziness and nausea washed over you as the realization set in.  You leaned on one of the dock’s pylons to support yourself.     

You felt your wolf, Ginger, raging inside you.  You took deep breaths to calm her, knowing that Ironhead was more than likely scratching at Will’s nervous system, eager to be free.  Seeing Ginger, smelling her, feeling her anguish would certainly push him over the edge.  But letting Ironhead out now would do more harm than good.

“Get him up to the house and get my kit,” you instructed.  Your anxiety dissipated as your whole world narrowed to a single purpose: taking care of your pack.

Benny set Will down on the chair in the main room and helped to remove his shirt.  You grimaced, peeling back the hemostatic dressing to find a bullet hole still seeping blood and pus.  You poured wound wash over the damaged skin and pressed fresh gauze against the wound.  Ironhead growled and snapped at you–fangs and claws bared–before Will could get him back under control.

“I know,” you said as calmly as you could manage.  “I know it hurts.  Stay with me.”  

In the tiny nursery–the outdated butler’s pantry, just big enough for a bassinet and your nursing chair–Luna woke and began to cry.  The sound made Will lurch with the effort of keeping Ironhead contained.

“Frankie,” you called.  “Get the baby.  Frankie, the baby!”

From across the room, Frankie stared at you blankly, still deep in shock.  You instructed Benny to keep the pressure on the wound and went to the nursery to fetch Luna.  Seeing you, she stopped crying in earnest, but still fussed for comfort and attention.  

“Francisco!” you snapped, carrying the baby out to her father.  “Escúchame!”

Frankie’s eyes finally focused on you as you handed Luna off to him.  He clutched her to his chest, cradling her head in his hand and breathing in the familiar smell of her–like fresh powder and breast milk.  His breathing and pulse began to slow.  Catfish grounded and soothed by being reunited with his beloved pup.  

“Take her,” you instructed.  “I need to stitch Will up and get him regulated.  If he shifts now, he will tear that wound wide open. You understand?”

“No,” Frankie protested, trying to hand her back to you.  “I can’t.”

“Yes you can,” you said.  “You are her father.  I need you to do this.”

Frankie nodded, rallying himself to take Luna to the kitchen so you could stitch Will’s wound.  

Stomach wounds were so complex, without imaging or exploratory surgery it was impossible to know the full extent of the damage.  But the truth was, even with a shifter’s regenerative capabilities, if the kidneys or bladder were involved Will would be dead already. He was feverish, so you gave him an injection of acetaminophen to try to bring down his temperature and help with the pain.  An IV would be better, but you weren’t set up for that here.

“Can you swallow?” you asked, opening a bottle of antibiotics to show him the size of the pills.

“Don’t worry, man,” Benny said, trying to soothe himself with humor.  “If you can't, we'll give you the suppository.”

Will rolled his eyes, accepting the pills with a glass of water.  “I can swallow.”   

“Benny, can you get him out of these wet clothes and into bed?” you asked.  “I’ll be right in, I’m just going to put on a pot of tea.”

“You got it,” Benny agreed, snapping to attention, happy to be given a task.

As the youngest member of your pack–before Luna came along–he could be irresponsible, impulsive, and self-indulgent, but he always knew when to buckle down and get things done.   

“Come here,” you urged.  “Give me a kiss.  You’re doing a good job.  You’re a good brother.  I’m proud of you.”  

Benny stooped to place a kiss at the corner of your mouth and you helped him lift Will out of the chair.  As they hobbled to the bedroom you went to the kitchen to put on the kettle.

“How is he?” Frankie asked, bouncing Luna on his knee as she fussed and reached for you.  

A shifter’s wolf was a natural part of their sympathetic nervous system, but like an elevated heartbeat or increased blood pressure, it could also be maladaptive.  The change took years to master without losing yourself to the animal and even then required an incredible amount of energy, energy that Will needed to heal.   

“Bleeding’s stopped,” you explained.  “But he’s not out of the woods yet.  Fighting one hell of an infection.  May need stronger antibiotics than what I have to give him.  If it goes septic we’ll have a feverish, pissed off Ironhead on our hands.”

“Tell me what you need,” Santiago said–the first words he had spoken to you in over three years.  “I’ll get it.”  

You turned away from him, returning your attention to warming up a bottle for Luna as you waited for the kettle.  You would be the first to admit, you hadn’t gone out of your way to bridge the gap between you after he had essentially waltzed back into your lives with a hand grenade after years off the grid.  But if this was his feeble attempt at repairing what he had broken, he would have to do better than that.

“I’m going to stay with Will tonight,” you explained.  “I need you to look after Luna.”

“Can’t Benny watch him?” Frankie pleaded, rising from the table as he shushed Luna anxiously.  “She wants you.”

“Benny has never calmed anyone in his life,” you said.  “And we need Will calm, Frankie.  You will be fine.  She’s just hungry.  Give her a bottle and rock her, play with her for a bit and put her to bed.  There’s toys and clean nappies in the nursery.  It will be good for you both.” 

You went to Frankie, holding Luna between you, wondering what the hell had gone on out there that had him so on edge.

“I love you.  I trust you.”  You held Frankie’s scruffy, bearded face and kissed him.  His lips tasted like salt and copper pennies.

You poured the tea and checked the temperature of Luna’s bottle before handing it off to Frankie.  You went back to the bedroom, thankful you had missed the ordeal of getting Will undressed and settled into bed.

“Thank you, Benny,” you said.  “I can take over; you need your rest.”

“Are you sure?” Benny asked, adding soto voce, “He’s pretty agitated.”

“I can still hear you, Benny,” Will snapped.

“I can handle your brother,” you assured him, giving the taut muscle of his arm as squeeze with your free hand.  “Eat something, try to get some sleep.”

Will growled and shifted uncomfortably in bed as his brother left.

“Where’s Luna?”

“She’s with her father,” you said, taking a careful seat beside him on the bed, holding the back of your hand against his face.

“Frankie doesn’t know shit about taking care of a kid,” Will protested.

"He'll be fine,” you insisted, taking a cold compress from your bag and holding it to the pulse point on his throat.  “You're the one I'm worried about.  You want something else for the pain?" 

Will shook his head.  ""M fine."

You sighed in frustration at Will’s pigheadedness.  Toughing out the pain made Ironhead that much harder to soothe.  You undressed and slid under the covers beside him, pressing yourself against his side.  His bare skin was hot and clammy.

"How's that?"

"Better," he nodded, putting an arm around you.

"I should put you on NPO," you warned, handing him the cup of tea from the bedside table.  "But as it stands you need the fluids. You lost quite a bit of blood."

"I'll make more," Will said, sipping the bitter tea.

"At least you haven't lost your sense of humor,” you said.  “Tell me what happened.”

Will related the whole mess to you: how they all got greedy at the sight of all that money, but Redfly most of all.  That Frankie blamed himself for the helicopter crash, for the deaths of the cocaine farmers, for not putting his foot down when the load was too heavy for the chopper.  That the son of one of the murdered farmers had followed them to seek revenge against Tom.  That they had to cross the Andes on foot and fight their way through an army of child soldiers to get to their boat.  That at the time, being shot in the altercation with Lorea was the least of their worries. 

“Is that so,” you sighed.  Having gone through all that it was a wonder he hadn’t thrown a clot, or worse.  “Any other symptoms? Headache?  Chest Pain? Nausea?”

Will shook his head, taking another gulp of tea.

“Dare I ask when was the last time you took a shit?” 

Will chuckled, just a little.  "You don't want to know."

“You have to tell me if the pain gets worse,” you warned.  “You understand?”

The bullet had gone straight through him, so at least it wasn’t tearing him apart on the inside while they were traipsing through the Andes.  

“All those speeches you give to new recruits, do you ever tell them about this part?”

Of course everyone loved hearing the story about assaulting a man into pissing himself at the Piggly Wiggly.  It made them feel powerful, cool even, paradoxically in control.  They were far less interested in the very real possibility of watching their friends die.

“About beautiful women asking about their bowel movements?” Will scoffed.  “No.  Definitely not.”

“I thought the whole point was to keep it real,” you carefully leaned your head on his chest.  You could feel his heart pounding

“Nobody wants it kept that real.”  

"Here," you said, taking his hand and placing it on your chest so he could feel your heartbeat.  "Does that feel like the heartbeat of someone in danger?  We're safe now; you can rest.  You brought them home."

"Not all of them," Will said with a pained grimace.

"I know.  I could kill Santiago for putting you through that."  

"Go easy on him," Will pleaded.  "He's hard enough on himself for all of us."  

"Well it certainly doesn't show," you said.  "He's cold to me.  Won’t even look me in the eye."

"Don't take it personal.  It's just--"  Will’s eyes flitted away from you like he didn't want to say.

"Spit it out."

"There was a woman.  In Columbia--"

"He can fuck who he wants," you scoffed.  “You know I don’t care about that.”

"A human woman."

A growl formed deep in your chest, but you swallowed it down, mindful of controlling your temper, but you were sure the momentary lapse in judgment wasn’t lost on Will or Ironhead.  

"He said it was nothing,” Will said.  “But he cared for her.  He had to send her away to keep her safe."

“Then it doesn’t matter anyway,” you said in a careful, measured tone as you took the empty mug from Will’s hands.

You both knew that with Tom gone the pack was vulnerable.  You needed Santiago now, as much as you hated to admit it.  If his loyalties were divided it would be disastrous for all of you.

You laid your head on Will’s chest, carefully snaking your arms around him to soothe yourself with his solidness.    

“Close your eyes now,” you said.  “You need sleep.” 

[kleenexwoman]

Kk3 au where Johnny and Daniel end up together

1) Johnny isn't at school after winter break.

Daniel wonders if he's okay. He goes up to Jimmy, who isn't the most approachable Cobra but who is probably the least likely to kill him, and asks if Johnny's still in the hospital or something.

Jimmy looks at him blankly and says he doesn't think Johnny went to the hospital. He called him to see if he wanted to hang out before Christmas, but Johnny said he was busy with stuff and that he'd see him when he was finished with it.

Daniel asks what stuff. Jimmy says he didn't ask.

Bobby asks why the hell Daniel wants to know, then softens when Daniel reminds him that he saw Johnny get strangled by his sensei, too. Bobby tells him that Johnny isn't ready to come back to school, which makes sense.

Daniel says that he hopes Johnny feels better, and that if Bobby talks to him, maybe he can just tell Johnny that Daniel hopes he's okay. That there aren't any hard feelings. He'll even spar with Johnny if he wants.

Dutch sneers and says he's asking to get his ass kicked.

As Daniel walks away, he can hear Tommy saying, "I can't believe you even bothered to talk to that little maggot. You're not gonna tell Johnny all that shit, are you?"

2) It wasn't Johnny that Daniel was afraid of.

Newark was a hard, cold town. There wasn't much work, and there were plenty of brown faces in the town to turn against each other when the car company moved down to Mexico to find cheaper brown hands. Daniel knew the cold flash of fear in the pit of the stomach that comes when you see the glint of a knife or the barrel of a gun.

He'd gotten a switchblade from Cousin Enzo and taken it to school, flashed it at Peter Dabish when the oversized prick tried to fuck with his friend Cici, and nearly gotten kicked out of Aaron Burr High School, home of the Fighting Governors, in favor of the Joseph Pesci Reformatory for Boys.

California seemed safer. Sure, Compton was full of gangs, but Reseda was merely mildly seedy. And West Valley High School promised little more dangerous than social ostracism by blonde pastel-clad children of privilege.

For fuck's sake, the scariest guy in school did karate instead of carrying a piece. And he was skinny. Well, not so much skinny as slender, with long graceful limbs layered with gentle curves of muscle, and a tiny waist, and a chest more curved than barrel. The bruisers back home were all chunk, built like bricks, bulked with pasta and pork, heavy with flesh. Johnny looked like he'd been carved away over time by a stream of water.

Sure, five against one was shit odds, but Daniel knew that a knife doesn't help when you're outnumbered anyway. It's just another thing that can be taken and used to hurt you.

Daniel could have hurt Johnny badly enough to end it, if he'd wanted to. He wasn't an idiot. The kind of places that would sell a kid an illegal blade or even a gun under the table were always easy to spot in Newark, and they didn't look much different in L.A.

He was scared of what he saw when he'd looked into John Kreese's dark blue eyes. Whatever was in there was hungry, hollow, and blank. Something that had cut itself off and refused to be reached. Something that only took and didn't know giving. Something that didn't know limits.

Daniel was scared that the thing driving John Kreese would push Johnny too far. That the posturing, the pushing, the pressing against lockers, that it would explode into something real.

He really didn't want to have to hurt Johnny. Johnny had been hurt enough already.

3) The All Valley was the second night of Hanukkah and Johnny was sleeping in his car by the eighth night.

Sid had a big party at the house the night after. Since Mom was Christian, he liked to call it Christmas-kkah. There was a tree and ornaments, and there was an electric menorah in the window that looked like nine plain, ugly glass tubes that lit up in a plain, ugly sodium yellow. If that was supposed to represent the miracle of having enough oil or whatever the fuck the whole thing was about, that sure didn't look like it meant shit. The potato pancakes weren't even any good, soggy and flavorless because nobody was eating fat.

Sid gave Johnny a blue sweater that didn't fit him, a check for thirty-six hundred dollars, and a sweaty rant about how Johnny needed to stop getting his face beaten on purpose before a big party. Did Johnny want everyone to think Sid beat him, get a reputation for being a domestic abuser and ruin his career? Was that his game?

Johnny gave Sid a head hung low, a bite of the lip, and a tear in the eye. He gave Sid the generous, frankly unwarranted gift of the most sincere-sounding apology he could muster. He promised Sid that it would never happen again.

(He couldn't make himself tear up until he started to think about the prospect of leaving his mother alone with the bald piece of shit. But he'd begged Mom to just take the money she had tucked away and leave, let Sid take everything else in the inevitable divorce. She'd always said she couldn't.)

Mom gave him a bunch of things that were nice, but that he didn't really need and had never asked for. That weren't really his style, but something between the chunky, shiny bright reds he'd liked as a kid and the soft, slender pastels she seemed to like him in. She also gave him a card that had a little trophy on it and said "To A #1 Champion of A Son!" on the inside.

"I'm so proud of you," she said to Johnny, and hugged him. "You always do so well when you put your mind to it. You only ever have to try."

The report card came in. Johnny got more C's than D's this time, but Math had plummeted from a B to a D, and Phys Ed was a B instead of an A because of all the shit he'd given LaRusso that year.

Sid screamed at him that he was never gonna get into a college, that he'd wasted hundreds of thousands of dollars on Johnny, that Johnny was gonna end up as a janitor scrubbing toilets. Then he shoved a brush and bucket into Johnny's hands and followed him around while he demanded that Johnny scrub all twelve toilets in the house by hand without gloves.

Later, retching, scrubbing his chapped hands with moisturizing soap, he looked to his mother for comfort.

She stood in the doorway and said softly that he'd done a good job cleaning the toilets.

Johnny left before sunrise, everything he wanted to take in the trunk of his Avanti, then drove to West Valley High and slept in the parking lot.

He found a new place to crash before the school year started up again. It wasn't hard. He looked good, and that made it pretty easy to make new friends who'd shoot you a few bucks now and again. As long as you were, you know... Properly grateful.

[elvisqueso]

behold, my fixation

(hc's under the cut)

listen. i've been fucked up over a completely self-indulgent modern au of these two for a week and i need to expel all the headcanons i've stockpiled or i will actually lose my shit. so this is both '''''canon''''' p/js and the modern au i made up.

pocahontas is demi in both; she had a healthy libido, but she doesn't experience much sexual attraction to others. once she does, tho, it's like a switch goes off and she finds the physical act of love a very fulfilling part of her relationship. i also hc that the other person she's had sexual experience with is nakoma, although it was entirely sexual on her end and not at all romantic (nakoma had a crush on her tho. got a lil messy there). in modern au, she's transgender and what you might call 'fully transitioned.' she prefers to remain stealth, but will talk about her experience in certain circles if she feels comfortable enough to do so (mostly, she's only comfortable talking to john or nakoma about it).

john has a lot going on. he's bi and isn't too conflicted about it in either canon, but in modern au he grew up in a very heteronormative community and family so he has a lil gender crisis going on. he thinks of himself as 'part guy, part not-guy.' they don't really have the benefit of a vocabulary to work this out on their own, so it's a little nebulous. i wanted some 'messy gendered' john, what can i say?

big spoon-little spoon

john is basically made to be big spoon, and pocahontas likes being all snug, but she can step up easily if john's feelin a lil fragile (modern au this happens more often bc of the ptsd i gave him. heehee ;3 ).

lends clothes-borrows clothes

pocahontas can and has borrowed/stolen every piece of clothing john owns.

pet names

pocahontas tends to lean towards using more 'proper' names and addresses just in general; pet names were never much of a thing so much as nicknames were growing up. john, on the other hand, will use a pet name for a houseplant.

introverted-extroverted

pocahontas is quite introverted, and tends to go off on her own a lot to recharge after a big run of interactions (this happens a lot in modern au due to her job). john is generally extroverted, but he can get tired of putting on a 'show' for people after a while.

affection through words-actions

they both use a fairly balanced amount of words and actions, although pocahontas tends to vocalize her feelings more, and john has a big 'acts of service' thing going on once he's got the traction for it.

confessions

john's self esteem is in the ground, so he never confesses first. he just deprioritizes his own feelings in favor of other peoples', so he'll just...not say anything, and assume he'll be told to 'leave' when he's not wanted around anymore. pocahontas confesses to him when she figures this out, and realizes she has to spell it out for him that yES she wants him around oh my god

BUGS

these are pro-bug dorks who will take selfies with the bug before releasing it gently into the wild.

driving

both can drive but neither are particularly good. pocahontas has a motorcycle tho and she's very good on that.

cooking

these two are equally useless when it comes to domestic chores in general, because they get very impatient and lose focus. they literally have to have someone babysitting them throughout any chore or task like cooking or they will Fail so everything from cooking to cleaning the bathroom they HAVE to do together because it's the only way anything will get done. they rely heavily on takeout and nakoma cooking for them, but they do that 'hello fresh' type thing sometimes and it's a whole evening of them following directions to maybe succeed in making something edible. john is only slightly more capable bc he has one (1) sandwich and one (1) recipe for pulled pork that he can pull off on his own.

PDA

this was supposed to be a dual-colored dot lmao but they are equally disgusting as like the type of couple that forgets other people are Watching and will make out in a public park.

protectiveness

pocahontas is generally more protective only bc she knows john doesn't prioritize his own safety/LIFE and will get himself injured if he thinks he can protect someone else. john is closer to chill only bc he generally knows pocahontas is Highly capable of taking care of herself and doesn't really need him to protect her (although he would absolutely die for her if it came down to it)

relationship experience

john actually has some experience, although never anything too serious. pocahontas, being demi and fairly aloof, never had a real relationship before, so she sometimes feels insecure about her part of the relationship.

horny levels

like i said before, pocahontas has a very healthy libido, but low sexual attraction, so once the engine starts in her relationship with john, she's generally On It most of the time. john (being a healthy young man himself) is p happy to try and keep up, but if he's just not able to get there for some reason (overstimulated, depressed, just not feelin the mojo), pocahontas is very good about winding back down to non-sexual forms of affection.

awkwardness levels

they're both fairly awkward people, actually, when you think about it, but in different ways, and in different situations. overall, they balance each other's awkwardness out and make a v good team, socially.

jealousy levels

the aforementioned total absence of john's self esteem also contribute to his lack of jealous tendencies (also, to him, someone else paying a lot of attention to pocahontas is just...normal. like if someone wasn't enchanted by her he'd think they were a lil crazy, kinda way). pocahontas on the other hand, due to her insecurities, can get pretty jealous over john. she's very self-aware about it though, and can curb it with some effort, but she can get too much in her head about it sometimes.

here's the full version of that pic btw:

this is how i envision their relationship.

[princesssarisa]

What are the favorite foods of the Disney Princes?

Snow White's Prince: Snow White's homemade soup and pie, which going back to a life of royalty won't stop her from making. The Seven Dwarfs would agree with him.

Cinderella's Prince: Coq au vin.

Prince Phillip: Since he enjoys riding around the woods, I imagine he also likes wild berries – especially strawberries, since red is his favorite color.

Prince Eric: A crusty baguette with good butter or cheese. This is based on the fact that he buys two baguettes while showing Ariel around the kingdom.

The Beast/Prince Adam: Ever since his first breakfast with Belle, he's had a special fondness for oatmeal with sugar and milk.

Aladdin: Melon, especially because he's good at stealing it without getting caught.

John Smith: Salt pork. It's the only seafaring food he actually likes, unlike ship biscuits or gruel.

Li Shang: Fried rice.

Prince Naveen: Tiana's beignets.

Flynn Rider/Eugene: Desserts of all kinds (if this ask is to be believed), especially the ones Rapunzel bakes.

And three more heroes who aren't in the Princes franchise because they're not Princesses' love interest, but who technically are princes, unlike some of the ones above:

Bambi: Leaves and grass.

Simba: Zebra.

Hercules: Spartan black soup – pork, pigs' blood, and vinegar. It's not for the faint of heart, but Greek heroes need their protein!

[bigmouthlass]

Title:  Belonging To A Screwed Situation

Series: Holler Me Home, part 2

Author:  BJ

Fandom:  Supernatural

Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage

Rating:  Explicit

Pairing:  Dean Winchester/OFC

Synopsis: Part of the Holler Me Home series. A scene from Alpha!Dean's early life.

Tags:  Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, ABO, Omegaverse, AU, Alpha Dean Winchester, Omega OFC, Alpha OMC, Pre-Series, Weechesters, Alpha John Winchester, John Winchester's A+ parenting, Sam is a good bro,

AN:  Contains sexual situations involving minors, so the appropriate flag is in place. Also flagged for non-con, as one of the parties involved is incapable of consent because of age and physical state. All recognizable intellectual properties are owned by their respective creators and holders of any trademarks or copyrights. This is a not-for-profit work of fan art and is protected by Fair Use.

---

Charlotte woke the way she did most weekday mornings, with the scent of fresh coffee and absent husband.  She sat up and found her Thermos, Billy’s sticky note stuck to the side:

Baby,

Picking up Jamal’s shift today.  Probably won’t be home until Saturday.  :-(  Would love pork chops for Sunday, nudgenudge.

140 -- Heater needs parts

210 -- fixed sink

Love you a hundred million bunches,

-Billy

“Plus one for luck,” Charlotte said, kissing the note.  The coffee was perfect-- hot, sweet, strong enough to strip truck parts.  Breakfast, a cream cheese and raspberry Danish, waited on the kitchen table.  Billy wasn’t any girl’s idea of a Prince Charming but he was still her husband, her mate, the father of her pups, and amazing in bed.  Her heats had passed with menopause; no one had thought to tell her sex would get better after that.

At six on the dot she relieved the night shift desk clerk.  “Go on get outta here Malik,” she told him.  “Billy’s filling in for his drivers again.”

“You sure Miss Charlotte?” he asked.  “I got no problem working overtime.”

“Don’t worry about it, go on home after you salt the sidewalk.  S’posed to snow later.”

“Yes ma’am.”  Bless his mama for raising a boy with good manners.  Like a breath of fresh air.

Charlotte checked outside, pleased to note that Drew had already made a pass with the snowplow.  Sent the message the place was still a working business, no matter how out-at-the-elbows it looked from the street.  The West Main Motel sat on a state route that mostly served local commuter traffic, it did business but business never really boomed.

Charlotte sat at the desk and did the balance book for the day, a tape of last week’s choir practice playing on the cassette player.  Mostly it boiled down to an inventory of the regulars.  Sudahara in 220, paid his rent when his pension check came in every month.  230 was open again.  Charlotte had had to evict Alice day before yesterday; certain things Charlotte refused to abide, and bringing johns home was one of them.  Annette, the fat divorcee in 130 trying to get back on her feet after a nervous breakdown, she was good company -- for a goddamned Methodist -- and baked the best cakes.  Drew in 240 lived on a handshake basis, filling the role of building super in lieu of rent.

The rest of the motel’s open units -- Charlotte made a mental note to scratch 140 until Drew and Billy could get the heater fixed -- were empty most of the time.  Advertising was a sign out front and yielded a seedy clientele, people who preferred to deal in cash and without computers.  With those types, Charlotte asked no questions and her guests told no lies.

The current tenets in 120, for example.  Family, a widower with two boys, Alphas all three.  The father’s scent stung Charlotte’s nose.  A broken bond had turned him bitter, acetone and cheap liquor.  The boys, a towheaded stringbean with big green eyes and a moptop maybe three or four years younger, with child-simple scents of apples and growing things-- Charlotte couldn’t help but smile at them.  They reminded her of Dwayne, firstborn of their second litter and the only one of their six living pups to Present.  A fine young Alpha, mated to a sweet Omega girl he met at school.

We don’t got much but what we got’s blessed, praise Jesus, Billy liked to say as he held Charlotte in the night, and Charlotte wouldn’t argue with that.

No one came in wanting a room all day.  Charlotte kept her hands busy mending, keeping half an eye on the weather.  Billy on the road with the snow coming down always made her nervous.  She fixed herself a sandwich for lunch but she couldn’t do much more than pick at it.  The cheerful noise of the boys in 120 getting back from school made her jump a foot.  Why you so squirrely Mama? sweet Matthew might’ve asked her, then squirmed close for a hug.

Charlotte turned on the Vacancy sign as twilight drew down and the snow started to fall.  Absently she wiped her nose.  Damned thing just started tickling for some reason.  Charlotte made a mental note to ask Veronica if she was trying a new fabric softener on the sheets.  Something cinnamony, but with sweet chocolate.  Something to make a girl’s tummy growl.

This is what happens when you don’t clean your plate, little Omega, Charlotte remembered her Daddy lecturing.  You stick to your diet, hear me?  Alphas want a curvy Omega not a lumpy one.

Billy likes my lumps, Charlotte retorted primly and dished herself some ice cream.  Tasted heavenly, felt good sliding down her throat, and didn’t help her sudden, intense craving for sweets at all.  Her mind filled with chocolate chip cookies, baked apples, coconut cream pudding, apple pie, cinnamon candies, apple turnovers, real egg nog with rum, apple butter on toast--

A hand frantically fanning the desk bell finally snapped Charlotte out of her daydream.  It was the younger of the two boys in 120, snow caught in his brown hair and melting down his shoulders.  “Young man where is your coat?” Charlotte snapped on reflex.

“Please, Mrs. Fiedewa,” the little boy panted.  “Pastor Jim isn’t home, Bobby’s not answering--"

“Calm down honey,” Charlotte said, assuming the mantle of Mom.  Voice of sanity, calm point in the storm, keeper of the world’s peace.  “What’s your name?  Shamed to say I don’t remember.”

"Sam Winc-- uh . . . Sam,” the boy caught himself.  Charlotte frowned as other things caught in her memory.  The father’s giant black land yacht of a car hadn’t been in the parking lot in a while.  A week at least . . . more like two . . . maybe three.  The envelopes with the rent showed up in the lockbox every Monday, Moneygram money orders purchased from the Gas’n’Sip up the road.  Filled out, Charlotte realized, in remarkably uneven -- one might say childish -- handwriting.  The last name Sammy cut short, Win-something, wasn’t even close to the one the father had scrawled in the check-in book.

All of that fell by the boards when Sam managed to blurt, “My brother.  He’s sick.  He’s got a fever and really bad cramps.  I tried to give him some water but it didn’t help.”  Huge tears pooled in Sam’s hazel eyes and ran down his cheeks, though he tried with every bit of his strength to hold them back.  Charlotte’s heart melted and without another word she grabbed her coat and hurried out the office door, flipping the BACK IN A FEW sign on the way.

The situation clarified itself the instant Charlotte stepped into the humid confines of 120.  The air reeked of scent.  Alpha scent.  Warm, sweet, with apple providing the ground note.  “Ugh!” Charlotte exclaimed, clapping a hand over her nose.

“What’s wrong?” Sam asked.

“Sweet Jesus boy, can’t you smell that?”

“That?  That’s Dean’s scent.  He always smells like that.”

“You don’t-- of course not, you’re too young,” Charlotte realized.  Sam’s nose must not be mature enough to detect the change.  “Your brother’s in rut.  Where does your daddy keep the suppressants?”

Sam’s tear-burned face went blank.  “Huh?”

Charlotte’s eyebrows shot up.  “You’re kidding.  You don’t have suppressants in the house?”

“N-no, ma’am,” Sam confirmed.

Charlotte saw him inching away, his nostrils pulsing with deep breaths.  A pup scenting an Omega in temper.  She pulled the office keys out of her pocket.  “Run back to the office.  Get my purse from the bottom file cabinet drawer and get the red box that’s mounted on the wall.  On the double!”

“Yes ma’am!” Sam squeaked and bolted.

The only place Dean could be was the bathroom.  Charlotte braced herself.  Heavens, the kid’s scent was strong.  Dwayne’s wasn’t nearly so overpowering-- then again, Charlotte thought, so angry with the boys’ so-called father she could’ve torn him to shreds, Dwayne had spent his first rut in his locked bedroom, full of muscle relaxers and suppressants, a silicone support band holding his freshly popped knot.  Charlotte remembered her heart hurting every time Dwayne whimpered, and how pale Billy got helping Dwayne clean himself up.  First seasons weren’t easy, for Alphas or Omegas.  No wonder Sam was hysterical.

“Love you a hundred million bunches, plus one for luck,” Charlotte told her absent mate, pressing her fingers to Billy’s mark on her neck.  She rapped on the bathroom door.  “Dean?  It’s Mrs. Fiedewa.  Can you talk?  Talk to me.”

“Yes I can talk!” Dean snarled from the other side of the door.  The deep growl would’ve been very intimidating, except Dean’s voicebox betrayed him and cracked soprano on the final syllable.

“Don’t you take that tone of voice with me young man, I know you have better manners,” Charlotte told him.  She tsked at Dean’s unmannerly reply.  “I’ll expect an apology for that later.  Where’s your father?”

“He’s out on a job,” Dean said.  Charlotte frowned.  The boy’s voice had gone smooth, reasoned, and dull.  Like a child reciting Psalms by rote, poetic flow lost.  “He’ll be back in a few days.”

Charlotte suddenly remembered how Billy and his kid sisters talked when their Daddy was out on a bender.  Their Mama taught them to say Daddy was off to the lake.  No matter the season or the weather, no matter if the damn fish were biting or not, the answer was always, “Daddy’s off to the lake.”  How many weeks are in a few days? Charlotte wondered.

With her Alpha gone and a full house of Betas, Charlotte was on her own.  She stepped down hard on her temper.  “Be not hasty in thy spirit to be angry; for anger resteth in the bosom of fools.”  Dear God, make me a conduit for Thy peace.  In Jesus’s name, amen.  “Your brother’s getting some things that’ll make you feel better.  I’m coming in.”  Ignoring Dean’s shrieked NO!, Charlotte opened the door.

Oh Lord, the scent felt thick enough to bite.  Nausea twisted her middle.  Dean’s naked back, pale, coltish, too thin, curled protectively forward.  Heat radiated off him, like a potato baked in campfire ashes.  Charlotte touched his shoulder and Dean flinched.

“Dean it’s okay,” she said.  My mate and I raised two litters of boys.  There ain’t nothing you got I haven’t seen.”  Dean’s head came up and those big leaf-colored eyes gazed through her, unfocused and dull.  Charlotte put the inside of her wrist to his forehead, hissing at the heat.  “Outta throw you in a snowbank.  Get in the tub.”

Dean shook his head.  Big side-side shake, as a little boy might.

“Honey we have to get your temperature down.  You’ll burn from the inside out.”  A flare of pure fear crossed his face and he moaned.  Charlotte’s eyes dropped, she couldn’t help it.  She saw enough to confirm what her nose was already telling her.  Dealing with that came after she got Dean in the bath.

“Mrs. Fiedewa?  I got the stuff you wanted,” Sam said.  He saw his brother, naked and shaking next to a middle-aged stranger, and turned red.

“That’s good Sam, real good.”  Charlotte kept her tone calm and encouraging, tried best she could to keep herself calm and encouraging.  “Help me get your brother in the bath.”  She worked the taps until she got a perfect tepid and put the stopper in.

Dean roused at the sensation of wet and cool.  “Mighty motherfucker, Sammy!”

“Dean!!!”

Charlotte slapped the sole of his bare foot.  “Watch your mouths, both of you.”  Both boys had the grace to hang their heads, mumbling apologies.  Sam left with a bucket to fetch ice.  Charlotte got Tylenol and some of Billy’s suppressants out of her purse and made Dean take them with a big glass of water.  “Suppressants aren’t going to help much with how you’re feeling, but they’ll help hold down your scent.  ‘Nother Alpha happens by they could get violent with you.”

“I can take care of myself,” Dean retorted, with every ounce the fool’s pride a young Alpha should have.

“Course,” Charlotte agreed, taking the ice from Sam and setting it aside, “but like the Lord says a fight’s best when avoided.”  Sam grunted an agreement, gently washing his brother’s face with a washcloth and trying his best not to look at the angry exclamation point standing from Dean’s groin.

Charlotte could spare the child this much.  “Sam go back to the office.  I can handle things from here.  If anyone comes in wanting a room tell them to wait.  The night shift clerk will be in later.”

“I’m not leaving Dean,” the little boy told her, with a man’s steel in his little boy voice.

Charlotte gave him a reassuring smile.  “I’m not going to hurt him.  This is just something your brother would probably rather you didn’t see.”

“It’s okay Sammy,” Dean spoke up.  His voice had dropped into his chest, into what would probably turn into a husky baritone over the next few years.  It reminded Charlotte, with a hard clench of heartbreak, of her youngest, dead of snakebite at just fifteen.  Christopher, who got his Gran’s freckles and thick black hair.  “I’ll be all right.”

Charlotte’s opinion of the boys rose another few notches when Sam hugged his brother round the shoulders and left without another word.

“How are you feeling?  Any better?”

The young Alpha swallowed.  “A little.”

“Okay.”  Charlotte pulled a deep breath.  In purest compassion or not, Billy was going to blister her butt for laying hands on another Alpha.  No help for it.  She got into the first aid kit for what she needed, and pulled on latex gloves.  “I’m going to help you get through this, but I need you to trust that I’m not taking advantage.”

Plucking up some bravado Dean smiled, the kind of smile that was going to get some Omega in trouble one day.  “I wouldn’t mind getting taken advantage of.”

Charlotte slapped him.  Not hard, but enough to wipe that smirk off his face and wake his eyes up a bit.  “Don’t you get cute with me boy, I’m mated, married, and old enough to be your grandmother.”

“Yes ma’am,” Dean said, shocked back into the out-of-his-depth child he really was.

Charlotte slid over to get a closer look at Dean’s knot, the bulbus process bulging unevenly around the base of his straining erection.  She saw angry red cracks-- stretch marks where the knot had swollen beyond the limits of the skin.  As her breath touched him, Dean went pale.  Not everything grew at the same pace in teenagers; he was one of the unlucky ones, a grown Alpha’s knot popping inside a pup’s sac.  Charlotte touched the backs of her fingers to the boy’s forehead.  He shivered, eyes slipping closed.  It was odd, he had the look of an exhausted child and a deeply aroused man.  Both at once, and both totally at Charlotte’s mercy.

God forgive me.  Charlotte gently pressed her fingers into the soft flesh of Dean’s groin.  No masses, thank God.

Dean was overwhelmed and in pain, but he wasn’t so far gone he didn’t know what was coming.  “Don’t,” he moaned.

“I have to, honey,” Charlotte said.  She coated her fingers and palms with silicone gel.  “It’ll feel better when I’m done.”

Dean cried out as Charlotte gently wrapped one hand around his cock and the other around his knot.  Both pulsed, hot even through the gloves.  “Please,” he begged, his face screwed up around tears he refused to shed, “stop.  It hurts.”

“It’s okay Dean,” Charlotte murmured.  Her fingers tightened around his cock and she pulled upward.  The same fluttering, twisting squeeze she’d learned a long time ago to placate boyfriends when the rut took them by surprise.  Dean’s knot twitched in her other hand, as ducts opened and blood seeped into the chambers under the skin.

Dean tossed in the water, splashing all over the floor and soaking Charlotte’s dress.  He groaned, deep, adult, and very masculine.  Charlotte’s heartbeat picked up and her mouth dried out.  Her skin crawled and her back cramped-- the early stages of bond rejection, as Charlotte breathed the smell of a rutting Alpha she didn’t belong to.

Hard as he was, it didn’t take long.  Dean’s cries spiked up in pitch and seed spurted thick and gooey over Charlotte’s gloved hand.  Charlotte laid both hands over his knot and squeezed, firm and rhythmic.  Charlotte took in Dean’s agonal face and his clenched jaw and throat, torn between pain and bliss.  “Sit up a bit.  Scent me.”

The feel of his cool nose and soft lips on the sensitive skin over the mating gland made Charlotte shut her eyes.  She thought of her pups.  Holding them in her arms as Billy told them bedtime stories, tucking them into their huge crib and later into bunk beds, wrangling the whole pack into the van for Christmas at Gran and Grampy’s, holding her grandchildren for the first time.  Soft, maternal, nurturing, safe.  She wanted to soothe the trembling young Alpha, not entice him or make him sick.

Dean heaved for breath, the rush of air cold on Charlotte’s wet skin.  “It’s not going down,” he panted, his voice thin with panic.

It’s not going to honey, not right away, you’re in rut.  Your body wants to find a mate and breed.  The knot’s going to stay full for a while yet.”  She held her squeeze a moment.  “An Omega’s body will lock your knot inside them.  It’s how you leave enough seed to sire pups.”

Charlotte stopped, her face flushing with mortification.  Why had the boys’ father not prepared Dean for this?  She kept working Dean’s knot, squeeze and release.  No help for the cramps in her fingers, if she let go before the knot deflated the swelling would tear more stretch marks, maybe get bad enough to rupture something.  It used to happen more often, until plastic support bands were invented.

Dean stayed with his face buried in the curve between Charlotte’s neck and shoulder.  His wet arms came up to loosely circle her shoulders, like a monkey baby.  His body jerked and another drop of seed spilled every fifteen seconds or so.  A little at a time, he relaxed.  Pups were always as much victims of their own mating instincts as masters for the first year or so.  Charlotte hummed, shushed, sang a little Beatles.  Dean’s arms tightened a little, and Charlotte pretended she didn’t notice his tears.

Charlotte’s hands closed as Dean’s erection shrank away and his knot deflated.  He slumped back into the tub, semiconscious.  “Good,” Charlotte praised, inspecting Dean’s soft sex organs for bleeding or signs of rupture.  “You did good, Alpha.  You were so good for me.  Catch your breath and let’s get you cleaned up.

Wiping away Dean’s spilled seed made Charlotte feel sick.  Well, she thought as a cramp gripped her dormant womb so hard her spine bent, sicker.  A touch to his forehead found a fever still burning.  Apologizing, Charlotte emptied the bucket of ice into the tub.

That brought Dean around.  “Oh my fuck--!”

“Language,” Charlotte scolded.

“Sorry,” he whispered.  Back in the land of the living enough he was realizing fully what happened.  What Charlotte had done to him.

Charlotte smeared numbing gel on Dean’s deflated knot, slipped on the silicone support band and set it just snug.  “Leave this on until your rut passes.  It’ll keep your knot from getting sore.  Stay in the tub for as long as you can stand it.  You’ll run a low fever for the duration, but it’s nothing to worry about unless it gets much above a hundred degrees.  Take the suppressants according to the package directions, take the Tylenol as you need it, and use the scent blocker.  Don’t go to school tomorrow.  When your father gets back, have him come to the office.  My husband will want to talk to him.”

Back in the office, Charlotte dismissed Sam as quickly as she politely could, with instructions to make sure Dean rested and drank fluids and for both of them to read the booklet included in Charlotte’s little red box.  As the door shut behind him, Charlotte darted to the bathroom.  Dean’s Alpha scent clung to her skin, crowded up her nose, worked on her brain.

Where it met Billy.  Billy her husband.  Billy her mate.  The parts of her that belonged to Billy howled in rage.  Charlotte dropped to her knees in front of the toilet and threw up everything in her body.  Her abdomen and back cramped.  She moaned in pain.  You belong to your mates! thundered Pastor Edwards from her memory, preaching to a living room full of young Omegas.  You will be Bonded and will never be torn asunder!  The blood will rise in riot and the body purge the sin!

Charlotte breathed as fast as she could, driving the strange Alpha scent out of her lungs.  She grabbed Bill’s shaving towel from the towel bar and breathed him in.  Loamy soil and peppermint, brewing coffee, sawdust.  The scent of Mate and belonging, clearing the Other away like mist in a wind.  The cramping eased.

Charlotte stripped, scrubbed herself raw in the shower, and dressed.  The clothes she’d been wearing went into a trash bag for separate washing.  Malik arrived right on schedule, and Charlotte spent the rest of the night on her knees, praying over her marriage bed.

---

“Char-char?  Babylove?”  Billy came inside, stamping snow off his boots and unzipping his snowsuit.  Charlotte helped him out of his snow things and into his house slippers.  Her heart lifted to see him safe.  But when he took her in his arms she stiffened and turned away, hanging her head.

Billy frowned.  “Charlotte what’s the matter?”

She didn’t answer,  She didn’t even look him in the eye.  Instead she slunk to the bedroom.  Bitter medicine is best taken in one swallow, her mother’s advice.  When you’re in debt you pay it off fast, afore the interest mounts up, from her dad.

She could hear the scowl in her mate’s voice.  “Explain yourself, Omega.”

“One of the kids in 120 popped his knot for the first time yesterday,” Charlotte gave the lines she’d spent all morning practicing.  “His father was gone and his brother didn’t know what to do.”

Her sweet, gentle husband turned aside for her Alpha.  Charlotte could smell his rage catching fire.  “Did you let him knot you?”  Billy grabbed the nape of her neck, pulling her face to his.  “DID THE LITTLE WHELP KNOT YOU?!?”

“No!” Charlotte cried.  “I had to lay hands on him to get him fixed up properly!  Then I came home and got sick!  It wasn’t his fault.  He was in pain,” Charlotte started to cry.  “Billy please, you’re my Alpha, I love you.”

Billy took hold.  Raw anger receded.  He nodded.  “And did you pray on your sins and ask the Lord for forgiveness, Omega?”

“Yes Alpha,” Charlotte said, hiccupping back tears.

“Do you accept my right as your mated Alpha to chastise you?”

“Yes Alpha.”  Charlotte already had the strap laid out on the bed, a two-inch wide strip of thick leather with a loop at one end for Alpha’s fist.  She unbuttoned her dress and let it drop to the floor.

Without another word Billy threw her on the bed and whipped her with the strap.  Charlotte, no stoic when it’s just her and Billy, broke into sobs.  As though she needed a reminder of her place.  As though every cell in her body didn’t belong to Billy.  As though she would ever entertain the thought of another Alpha.

Charlotte shut down those blasphemous thoughts, horrified.  God watches and knows your Omega heart, girl.

Billy hung the strap back in the closet.  He lay on the bed and Charlotte burrowed into his arms.  “Shhhh, ‘Mega, it’s okay now.  It’s over,” he whispered, gently stroking her back.  He tipped his head and Charlotte put her nose near his Alpha gland.  She breathed in Billy’s scent and let herself fall apart.

Billy held her until her tears ran dry, the tender man he actually was back in control.  He cleaned her face with the handkerchief he always carried in his seat pocket.  “Charlotte?  Baby?  You okay now?”

She nodded.  “Alpha, I’m so sorry.”

“Shusha now, Omega.  It’s over.  The Lord sees your repentance and forgives your sin.”  Billy crooked a finger under Charlotte’s chin and lifted her eyes to meet his.  “And so do I.  I love you.”

Sniffling, Charlotte asked, “A hundred million bunches?”

Billy kissed her.  “Plus one for luck.”

---

Three days later, Charlotte hung up her coat on the hook.  Singing a little under her breath, she took the CHECK-IN STARTS AT TWO, PLEASE WAIT sign off the desk, turned, and jumped halfway to Heaven.  The sign clattered to the floor at her feet.

“Hey hey hey, it’s okay!  It’s me, Mrs. Fiedewa!  It’s me.”  Hands held out empty, placating.  Next to him, glowering, dark brown eyes glittering in the low light, stood his father.

Charlotte sighed.  “Boy, you scared the almighty Jesus out of me.”

Dean lowered his hands.  Charlotte scented and there he was, a pleasant but unenticing mix speaking softly of leather and baking spices.  The sharper smell, by far, came from his father.  Whiskey, drunk hours ago and seeping from the skin.  “I’m sorry.  Ma’am.”

Billy came in from parking the truck.  “Honey did you take the shower presents out of Suzyanne’s car--” he put his head back and sniffed.  Catching sight of the other Alphas, he scowled and moved himself in front of Charlotte.  “Get inside Omega.”

“Alpha--"

“Hall closet, now.”

“Mr. Fiedewa.”  John, that was his name, Charlotte recalled.  Maybe fifteen years younger and broader through the shoulders.  “I understand your wife helped my boys when Dean was in trouble.”

Billy turned red.  “If by ‘trouble’ you mean having to lay hands on an Alpha she don’t belong to cuz his father never bothered to take him to a doctor and get him fixed up properly, then yeah, she helped.  And she’s already been properly humbled of it.”

“What?” Dean blurted

“My wife’s a good Omega and she knows her place,” Billy said.  “She’s not yours to discipline because you didn’t do your duty by your boy.”

“Wait a sec-- you beat her?” Dean demanded.  “That’s not fair!  She was just trying to help!”

“Be quiet Dean,” John ordered.  His shoulders slumped a little and he looked down at the floor.  “I just wanted to thank her.  Sammy told me Dean was damn near delirious.  If there’d been a breeding Omega nearby, Sammy wouldn’t’ve been able to stop Dean from doing something stupid.”

“Yeah, everybody’s a knothead at that age,” Billy agreed.  “That don’t excuse anything.  If my Charlotte wasn’t a good Omega something might’ve happened there’s no forgiving for.”

“I know, and that’s my fault,” John said.  “I was away on business, and I missed the signs.”  A shadow of pain crossed his eyes.  “I’m not ready for my boys to be so grown up.”

“Really,” Billy said.  “How old’s your boy?  Thirteen, fourteen?  How in the Lord’s name did he get to be that old without knowing how to take care of himself?”

“You’ve made your point,” Charlotte said, putting her hand on Billy’s thick arm.  From the red creeping up the other Alpha’s neck, John wasn’t going to stand still for much more chastisement.

“Look, I don’t get it,” Dean said.  “I was the one popping a boner in front of your wife--”

“Watch your language boy,” Billy growled.

“Enough,” Charlotte said, wishing -- and not for the first time -- that folk listened good to Omega voice the way they did to Alpha.  “It doesn’t matter, young man.  Anything outside a Bond’s a sin and my Alpha was right to correct me for it.”

“’Correct’ you?  That’s crazy!”

“Dean Michael Winchester that is enough,” John ordered, in an Alpha rumble so powerful even Charlotte trembled.  “Get back to the room and pack up Sammy.  I get the feeling we’re not welcome here any more.”

“Leaving your pups alone for damn near a month?  Now I was brought up to believe a man’s family’s his own business but that’s neglect by any reasonable standard.”  Billy squared his shoulders and laid it down.  “You got until tomorrow night.  Then I’m calling the law.”

“Understood.  Sir.”  John took Dean by the elbow and marched him out the door.  Something heavy went out of the air as they did, and Charlotte joined Billy in a sigh of relief.

“Crime-a-nilly, Char-char,” Billy said.  “Why didn’t you go get the shotgun like I told you?”

“Because I didn’t want to make a bad situation worse, Alpha.  The father there had a gun.”

Billy did a double-take.  “What?  Where?”

“Back waistband.  I saw it when he first stood up.”  She hugged Billy, kissed him softly.  “I don’t wanna be visiting you in the County Jail.  Or the morgue.  Not over some stupid knothead doesn’t know how to take care of his pups.”

Billy nodded.  “Damned shame.  They seem like fine boys, just a little wild.”  He brushed Charlotte’s forelock back.  “Forget about it honey.  Let’s make some chili dogs and watch the game.  How’s that sound?”

 Charlotte smiled.  “Heavenly.”

---

Some Years Later

“Billy?” Charlotte called.  “Where are you?  I need help!”  That was all.  The world had collapsed to their bedroom, a door that wouldn’t open, and no Billy.  Charlotte called again, and again, unaware she was screaming so hard her throat bled.  “BILLY!!!”

Suddenly the bedroom was gone.  Charlotte heard . . . voices, a crazy off-tune symphony of whispers and cries.  She was in pain, so much pain.  Surely not even the pits of Damnation could inflict such agony.

“Son of a bitch,” a strange voice said.  Charlotte heard it, despite having no ears to hear with.

“Grammy-ma?”  This voice, Charlotte knew.  “Can you hear me?”

The agony was gone, as though someone had flipped a switch.  Charlotte found herself on the snowy ground, dressed only in her nightie.  She looked up and saw a strange men standing beside her granddaughter, Katherine.  But that wasn’t right.  Katherine’s hair was too long and she’d grown an inch and filled out.  “Katie-bye?”

“Oh thank the good Lord.”  Katherine swallowed.  Petie, her daddy, did the same thing whenever he had to do something he didn’t want to do.

“What are you doing out in the middle of the night with a strange men?”  Charlotte scented.  “And an Alpha too.  Your father’s going to blister your butt when you get home young lady.”

“Mrs. Fiedewa?” the strange man said.  Odd, for just a second he wasn’t a man.  For just a second he was a skinny strip of a thing, all bones and wiry muscle and carrying a scent of apples and leather.  Charlotte looked down at herself in her silk nightgown and blushed.  Billy was going to have her hide--

Billy.  “Where’s your grandpa?” Charlotte asked Katherine.  “I gotta find him.  Where is he?”  Katherine hesitated.  “Katherine Elizabeth Fiedewa where is he?!?”

“Grammy where do you think you are?”

“What?”  Charlotte looked around and the world did that queer double thing again, like looking through a pane of painted glass.  One moment she was standing in the bedroom, the next she stood . . . nowhere, just a hump of snow next to an empty road flanked by winter-bare trees.  “What’s happening?  Where’s Billy?”

Sniffling, hiccuping back tears, Katherine said, “There was a fire, Grammy-ma.  The fire department thinks someone didn’t put out their cigarette before they threw it in the laundry room trashcan.”

Charlotte felt everything inside her disappear, leaving cold fog.  She peered around, as the Apostle Paul must have after the scales fell from his eyes.  But instead of the light of the Good News, all Charlotte could see was darkness.  Her family business, and her home ever since her pups grew up and moved away . . . nothing left except one charred wall and a snow-covered sign.  Plowed snow blocked off the driveway.  The only sign of human presence were two sets of fresh tracks leading to where Katherine and the strange man stood.

It all came together and Charlotte lifted her hands to cover her mouth.  She wanted to scream but the breath wouldn’t come.  “Where’s Billy?” she whispered.

“When he got home from work that night he saw the smoke and he went inside to try and get you out,” the strange Alpha told her.  “By the time the fire department arrived on the scene, it was too late.  The roof was caving in.  There was nothing they could do.”  A look of pity crossed the stranger’s handsome face.  “I’m so sorry Mrs. Fiedewa.”

Charlotte said her mate’s name, her world almost disappearing in a wave of pure agony.  Billy, the center of her world, her gift from the Almighty--

A memory stabbed through her, of Alphas screaming her name as they ran through traffic, into walls, slamming themselves into any obstacle in their way, anything to reach and rescue the trapped Omega.  “Merciful Jesus,” Charlotte said.  “All those people--”

“Hey!” the strange man said sharply.  “None of that was your fault, Mrs. Fiedewa.  When spirits get stuck and can’t move on, they get irrational.  They lash out.”

Charlotte did a double-take.  Something in the strange Alpha’s body language, his tone, his scent, it tickled a memory, something that danced on the tip of her tongue.  A scent of sweet apples and earthy spices.  “Dean?”

“Yeah,” the Alpha confirmed, smiling.  “It’s me.”

“What in the name of the Good Lord Jesus are you doing here with my granddaughter?”

“Looking for you, Grammy,” Katherine said.  “We’re blood-kin.  Dean showed me how to do a summoning ritual.”  Katherine cleared her throat.  “We need to know if there’s something that survived the fire.”

“Normally, ghosts are tied to this world by their remains,” Dean explained.  “But that can’t be you because your body burned in the fire.  Something’s keeping you here.”

“Like what?  Everything we had in the world was here.”

“Not everything.”  Dean pursed his lips.  “You’re a good person, Mrs. Fiedewa.  You need to move on.  You don’t belong here.”

“I don’t belong anywhere Billy isn’t,” Charlotte said, her heart breaking and crumbling to nothing.  She could feel it now, the aching psychic wound of a broken bond.  Broken?  Torn out, uprooted.

“All right that’s enough,” Dean said, exasperated.  “You’re an Omega, not a damn slave.”

“Language,” Charlotte chided.  “In front of my granddaughter you will behave like a gentleman.”

Dean hung his head.  “Yes ma’am.”

Charlotte looked more closely, at the promise of adult handsomeness fulfilled.  Tall, broad shouldered, square jawed, those devastating green eyes.  She wasn’t surprised to see Katherine sneaking looks from the corner of her eye.  “Are you mated Dean?”

“No Mrs. Fiedewa.”

“When you find your Omega, you’ll understand.”

“Please Grammy,” Katherine said.  “Can you think of anything?  Like baby teeth or something with your DNA on it?”

Charlotte shook her head helplessly.  Something in her was coming unstuck, like a house being swept away by a cold tide.  “I . . . um . . .”

Moonlight winked over Katherine’s heart and Charlotte’s mind made the connection.  “The locket,” she said, pointing at Katherine.  “It belonged to my mother.  She gave it to me when I had my first pups.  It’s got a piece of my hair in the case.”

“That would do it.”  Dean held out his hand.

Katherine covered the silver pendant with her hand.  “This?  You gave it to me when--”

“Katie-bye,” Charlotte said, “give Dean the locket.  You don’t need it to know how much I love you.  Billy’s waiting for me, and we’ll both be there when you come to us in Heaven.”

Tears spilling down her cheeks, Katherine took it off.  She kissed it, and handed it to Dean.  “I love you Grammy-ma.”

“I love you too baby,” Charlotte said.  The world wavered and she could feel the desperation rising, the need for Alpha’s rescue and his caring and Billy--

Dean turned to a huge black car parked by the side of the road.  He opened the trunk and, with an efficiency that spoke of long habit, built a small fire using a ceramic pot as a crucible.

“It’s okay.  Go.  Tell your dad and your uncles I love them,” Charlotte told Katherine.  Weeping, Katherine left.

Fire on fire, the fire of her death and the fire as her spirit burned away.  Charlotte held in her scream as she clung to Billy.  She vanished with his name on her lips.

---

Dean held Kate as she sobbed.  Hundreds of angry spirits under his belt, most of them so far beyond humanity it wasn’t right to think of them as people.  This was different.  This was known.

And Dean felt like a pissant piece of chickenshit.

She’s killed four people already, Dad had said as he loaded up the truck.  Off on another case, one he insisted had to be done solo.  Doesn’t matter how nice she was when she was alive.

He was right, of course.  But still.  This was different.  Mrs. Fiedewa had been kind, even if Dean had . . . mixed feelings as to her kindness.  The thought of her mate chastising her still made him angry.  Wasn’t her fault he’d skipped out on the Alphas Only part of sex ed in fifth grade. 

And yet, she’d burned away screaming his name.

“Thank you,” Kate sniffled, as she pulled herself together.

“Come on, I’ll take you home,” Dean said.  He tried not to notice her shy glances, her mouthwatering scent.  On top of being jailbait, hitting that would be just wrong.

Below his zipper certain parts made it known he’d have to hit something in the near future.  Even the best suppressants couldn’t completely take away rut.

“Do you think she’s okay now?” Kate asked as Dean stopped a street over from her folks’ house.

“Yeah sure,” Dean said.  “Mrs. Fiedewa was a good person.  She’s in Heaven with your grandpa.”

Kate nodded.  She leaned over and kissed Dean on the cheek.  Then she opened the door and disappeared between two night-dark houses.

Picking up his phone, Dean hit one on the speed dial.  “Dad.  The granddaughter had a locket with a piece of hair in it.  We torched it.  The spirit’s gone.  On my way to Leticia’s, she thinks she’s got a Rawhead in Vincennes.”

His eyes fell on the second option on the speed dial.  “Don’t do it, Dean,” he muttered.

He did it anyway.  “Hi, you’ve reached Sam Winchester’s cell phone.  Leave your name and number and I’ll get back to you when I can.”

Dean smashed the Disconnect button, snapped the phone shut, and whipped it into the footwell.  Oh that was awesome, maybe someday you’ll grow a pair and actually leave a message.  Happy fucking birthday to me.

He sat there a long moment, Baby’s engine growling gently.  “I need some booze, some sex, and about six hours of sleep,” he told the car.  “In that order.”

---

AN2: Okay, one of the things I figured out when I was writing 'Detour' was I had things I wanted to say about ABO as a concept, and that kept being true after I finished it. So I got to working through what the first time “popping a knot” might actually be like, and how ABO dynamics might work as a system of privilege/marginalization. How it would work at keeping Omegas oppressed, how it poisons even loving relationships, how the system harms Alphas even while exalting them. I thought about how Dean’s early experiences with sex would shape his personality-- mistrust of The Way Things Are and rejection of what’s expected of him as an Alpha.

[jpbjazz]

LÉGENDES DU JAZZ

CHARLES LLOYD, LE HIPPIE DU JAZZ

“With wildly bushy hair, military jacket, and garishly striped bell bottoms, he looks like a kind of show-biz hippie. He usually sounds like a kind of show-biz John Coltrane.”

- Martin Williams

Né le 15 mars 1938 à Memphis, au Tennessee, Charles Lloyd avait toujours baigné dans plusieurs cultures. Ses ancêtres sont à la fois d’origine africaine, choctaw (ou cherokee, selon les sources), mongole et irlandaise. Exposé dès son plus jeune âge au blues, au gospel et au jazz, Lloyd avait reçu son premier saxophone en cadeau à l’âge de neuf ans. À partir de ce moment, Lloyd était devenu un assidu des émissions de radio mettant en vedette Charlie Parker, Coleman Hawkins, Lester Young, Billie Holiday et Duke Ellington. Parmi les premiers professeurs de Lloyd, on remarquait le pianiste Phineas Newborn Jr. et le saxophoniste Irvin Reason. Il avait aussi étudié la composition avec le trompettiste Willie Mitchell. Le meilleur ami de Lloyd durant son enfance était le trompettiste Booker Little.

Durant son adolescence, Lloyd avait joué du jazz avec le pianiste Harold Mabern et les saxophonistes George Coleman et Frank Strozier. Il avait aussi accompagné les musiciens de blues Bobby "Blue" Bland, Howlin' Wolf et B.B. King, ainsi que le chanteur de rhythm & blues Johnny Ace. Durant son adolescence, un jeune camionneur nommé Elvis Presley était même venu le voir jouer. Lloyd expliquait: “Every night, to watch Calvin Newborn, Phineas’s younger brother, because he would be playing guitar and he jumped way up in the air, shaking his legs. Well, Elvis couldn’t do that guitar stuff that Calvin could do, but he could shake his leg, so he watched and got some stuff from those gigs.”

Évoquant son enfance dans le Sud, Lloyd avait commenté: “That world of man’s inhumanity to man – racism, segregation – was a game somebody had set up, a botheration”. Décrivant sa jeunesse à Memphis, Lloyd avait ajouté:

“We were in Mecca, you know? The music was just so powerful. We were bit by the cobra of Bird [Charlie Parker] and Prez [Lester Young], so it was no turning back, but the blues is part of our ethos and those were the gigs that were available to us. Howlin’ Wolf would come to town and say: ‘You play with me, you eat pork chops – you play in other bands, you eat neck bones!’ He could pay about $5 more, $10 more, than the other bands. Naturally, you wanted to play with Wolf. Plus the fact he would shake those buildings when he played. And the ladies, throwing their panties up on the stage and pulling on his pants!”

En 1956, Lloyd avait quitté Memphis afin de poursuivre des études de maîtrise en musique classique à l’University of Southern California (USC) à Los Angeles, où il avait étudié avec Halsey Stevens, un spécialiste de Bela Bartók. Lloyd expliquait ainsi ce qui l’avait tellement fasciné dans la musique de Bartók: “I think because of his work with his folk themes and folk melodies, it touched us, there was some some kind of simpatico.”

Après ses cours à l’université, Lloyd s’était produit dans les clubs avec des sommités du jazz comme Ornette Coleman (qui était devenu son mentor), Billy Higgins, Scott LaFaro, Don Cherry, Charlie Haden, Eric Dolphy, Bobby Hutcherson et d’autres musiciens bien en vue de la Côte ouest. Se rappelant une jam session qui avait eu lieu en 1966, Lloyd avait précisé: “Billy Higgins, Ornette, Dexter Gordon, a lot of guys were there. I got up to play and, afterwards, Ornette came up and said: ‘Man, you sure can play the saxophone but that don’t have a lot to do with music.’ He was about eight years older than me and, essentially, was saying that I could play but I didn’t have it together yet. We became friends, played and practised a lot together. It was a rich community in California, so I got blessed again.”

Durant son séjour à l’université, Lloyd avait aussi été membre du big band du compositeur et trompettiste Gerald Wilson. Lloyd était également très proche de Miles Davis, John Coltrane, Charles Mingus, Thelonious Monk et Coleman Hawkins. James Rozzi écrivait dans le magazine Wired: "Nary a review is written about saxophonist Charles Lloyd without mentioning his kinship to John Coltrane, both sonic and spiritual. But while Coltrane's sound became more strident with time, Lloyd's has grown lush and haunting." Lloyd détient également un baccalauréat en éducation musicale de Norfolk State University et une maîtrise en piano de l’Université du Michigan. La devise de Lloyd est ‘’Goin’ Ahead’ (toujours devant).

DÉBUTS DE CARRIÈRE

Après s’être installé à New York au début des années 1960, Lloyd s’était produit dans des clubs de jazz réputés comme le Birdland,  le Village Vanguard, le Half-Note, la Jazz Gallery et le Five-Spot.

Lloyd travaillait comme professeur lorsqu’il avait reçu une offre pour devenir directeur musical du groupe du batteur Chico Hamilton. À l’époque, Eric Dolphy venait de quitter la formation pour se joindre au groupe de Charles Mingus. Le guitariste hongrois Gábor Szabó, le contrebassiste Albert "Sparky" Stinson et le joueur de trombone Charles Bohanan avaient bientôt rejoint Lloyd dans le groupe d’Hamilton. Les albums d’Hamilton sur étiquette Impulse !, ‘’Passin' Thru’’ et ‘’Man from Two Worlds’’, comprenaient de la musique écrite et arrangée presque entièrement par Lloyd. Ce dernier avait aussi collaboré avec le batteur nigérien Babatunde Olatunji durant les périodes où il n’était pas en tournée avec Hamilton.

En 1964, Lloyd s’était joint au sextet de Cannonball Adderley, qui était aussi composé à l’époque de Nat Adderley, Joe Zawinul, Sam Jones et Louis Hayes. Lloyd était demeuré dans le groupe d’Adderley durant deux ans. Lloyd avait toujours été reconnaissant envers Adderley pour l’avoir incité à diriger ses propres formations.

Après avoir signé un contrat avec les disques Columbia en 1964, Lloyd avait commencé à enregistrer sous son propre nom. Ses deux premiers enregistrements pour Columbia, ‘’Discovery!’’ (1964), et ‘’Of Course, Of Course’’ (1965), réalisés avec une formation composée de  Gabor Szabo à la guitare, de Don Friedman et Herbie Hancock au piano, de Richard Davis et Ron Carter à la contrebasse, et de Roy Haynes et Tony Williams à la batterie, lui avaient valu d’être élu artiste de la relève par le magazine Downbeat.

Après avoir quitté le groupe d’Adderley en 1965, Lloyd avait formé son ‘’quartet classique’’ avec le batteur Jack DeJohnette, le pianiste Keith Jarrett et le contrebassiste Cecil McBee (qui avai plus tard été remplacé par Ron McClure). C’est avec ce groupe que Lloyd avait enregistré un premier album sous son nom intitulé ‘’Dream Weaver’’ en 1966. La musique du groupe était un amalgame de post-bop, de free jazz et de soul jazz. L’album live du quartet, intitulé ‘’Forest Flower’’, a été enregistré en 1966 au Festival de jazz de Monterey, et est devenu un des premiers albums de jazz de l’histoire à se vendre à plus d’un million de copies.

Très populaire dans le milieu de la contre-culture, le quartet de Lloyd attirait une clientèle hydride composée tant d’amateurs de rock que de jazz. Premier groupe de jazz à se produire au célèbre Fillmore Auditorium de San Francisco, le quartet de Lloyd pratiquait une musique de fusion qui incorporait des éléments de free jazz, de musique non occidentale, d’harmonies impressionnistes et de rock psychédélique. Ironiquement, le nouveau jazz-rock en émergence avait fait son apparition à la suite de performances qui étaient essentiellement acoustiques. Au Filmore, le quartet de Lloyd avait partagé la vedette avec des artistes et des groupes aussi renommés que Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin, Cream, the Grateful Dead et Jefferson Airplane. Lloyd avait d’ailleurs projeté d’enregistrer avec Hendrix, mais la mort prématurée du guitariste en septembre 1970 avait empêché le projet de se concrétiser. Lloyd avait également envisagé d’enregistrer avec le groupe les Byrds, mais la compagnie de disques avait refusé de soutenir le projet. Attribuant la décision à des considérations raciales, Lloyd avait commenté: “They said no, it’s not going to happen – they were still doing racial polarities.”

Parallèlement à ses performances au Filmore, Lloyd avait continué de se produire sur la scène des meilleurs festivals de jazz de la planète, dont ceux de Montreux, Antibes, Molde, Newport et Monterey.

Décrivant l’apparence de Lloyd à l’époque, le critique Martin Williams du New York Times écrivait:  “With wildly bushy hair, military jacket, and garishly striped bell bottoms, he looks like a kind of show-biz hippie. He usually sounds like a kind of show-biz John Coltrane.”

Lloyd avait également joué comme artiste invité sur les enregistrements de groupes comme les Doors, The Birds, The Grateful Dead, Ashish and Pranesh Khan, ainsi que les Beach Boys. Loin de se limiter au monde de la musique rock, les explorations de Lloyd avaient inspiré des musiciens de jazz comme Miles Davis qui avaient suivi son exemple en se produisant à leur tour au Filmore aux côtés de vedettes de la musique rock.

Après avoir été élu artiste jazz de l’année en 1967 par le magazine Down Beat, Lloyd avait fait une première tournée mondiale. Accueilli chaleureusement en Europe, notamment dans des festivals comme ceux de Montreux, Antibes et Molde en Norvège, le quartet de Lloyd était aussi devenu le premier groupe de jazz américain à se produire en URSS. Lorsque les spectateurs de Talinn, en Estonie, avaient appris que le KGB avait l’intention de ne pas laisser le groupe monter sur scène, ils avaient commencé à crier: "Lloyd jazz! Lloyd jazz!" Lorsque Lloyd était retourné en Estonie en 1997, Marju Kuut (qui avait assisté à la première performance du groupe trente ans auparavant) avait déclaré à Thomas Conrad du magazine Down Beat: "Europeans played in jazz, but something was missing. Lloyd was real, real American jazz. They didn't play for ... show. They played for themselves."

Le groupe avait également joué au Moyen-Orient, en Chine et dans les pays du Bloc de l’Est. Lloyd était aussi devenu le premier musicien de jazz à se produire au festival de musique classique de Bergen, en Norvège. Le quartet de Lloyd avait finalement été démantelé après que Miles Davis ait recruté DeJohnette et Jarrett dans le cadre de ses premiers groupes de jazz-fusion. Davis, qui avait toujours été un peu jaloux du succès de Lloyd, était un personnage très particulier selon les propres dires du saxophoniste. Lloyd expliquait: “Miles is very creative, a very special guy – he changed music a bunch of times.’’ Très lucide envers la personnalité très complexe de Davis, Lloyd était conscient que la situation ne pouvait durer. Lloyd avait précisé: “We can’t get along. He’s extremely talented but he wants all the girls and all the money.” 

Mais malgré toute sa célébrité, Lloyd ne se sentait plus très heureux. Il poursuivait: “You must understand, fame and fortune, it’s like a hog plum – looks real juicy and you bite into it and you break your teeth off because it’s all pit and skin. So, I came to realise the fame and fortune were why I was miserable. They weren’t what they seem. You know, I got all these demands on me: ‘Sign this, do that, be over here …’ Around ’68 things started getting bad: my marriage and the tragic magic.”

À l’époque, Lloyd avait également commencé à développer une dépendance envers les narcotiques, ce qui n’avait guère contribué à améliorer la situation. Il poursuivait: ‘’Some powder that you take in you. You do things with it. And you don’t have any problems, you just need to get your tragic magic each day. I’d go play with the Grateful Dead and they’d put Peru on the table, you know, a big mountain of coke and stuff … When you’re medicating yourself like that, you’re in another zone. At first it was stimulating but, after a while, it was impeding the creative.’’ 

Lloyd avait donc décidé de quitter New York pour la Californie afin de tenter de se reconstruire. Lloyd était aussi insatisfait de son contrat avec Atlantic, qu’il avait comparé au système des plantations à l’époque de l’esclavage. Se rappelant de son arrivée en Californie, Lloyd avait expliqué:

“I remember when I came back to California, Herbie, Wayne, Miles, Zawinul, Horace-none of those cats were out here then. I remember everybody said I was doing a dumb thing coming back to California. I was up at [Bob] Dylan’s place in [Woodstock, N.Y.]. We were standing around and his manager, Albert Grossman, had a pool, with cracks in it, and Dylan said, ‘Man, why are you going out there?’ I said, ‘I gotta go back to heal a little bit. I went to college out there and I’m gonna go be by the sea and not wear any clothes and become a fruitarian.’’’

Depuis la fin des années 1950, un peu comme Don Cherry, Yusef Lateef, l’Art Ensemble of Chicago et John Tchicai, Lloyd était aussi reconnu pour avoir incorporé la musique d’autres cultures dans le cadre de ses compositions.

Même si Lloyd avait enregistré plusieurs albums dans les années 1970 et avait collaboré aux enregistrements de plusieurs autres artistes, il était pratiquement disparu de la scène du jazz par la suite. Devenu un adepte de la méditation transcendentale, Lloyd avait commencé à collaborer massivement avec des groupes et des artistes du Big Sur, comme Robinson Jeffers, Langston Hughes, Henry Miller, Lawrence Ferlinghetti, Jean Varda et Jamie DeAngulo.

Mais Lloyd était surtout connu pour sa collaboration avec les Beach Boys, tant sur leurs enregistrements en studio que comme membre de leur groupe de tournée. De nombreux membres des Beach Boys partageaient la fascination de Lloyd pour la technique. Lloyd, qui avait enregistré au studio-maison de Brian Wilson pour son propre compte durant cette période, avait rappelé plus tard que plusieurs membres du groupe l’avaient accompagné sur ces enregistrements. Certaines des pièces enregistrées à cette occasion avaient été incluses sur l’album de 1971 ‘'Warm Waters'', qui mettait également en vedette le guitariste soliste du groupe Quicksilver Messenger Service, John Cipollina. Évoquant sa collaboration avec les Beach Boys, Lloyd avait commenté:

“I didn’t know who the Beach Boys were but, it turned out, they were fans of mine. Mike Love started inviting me up to Brian Wilson’s place – Brian had a house in Bel Air with a studio in it and an engineer, there all the time. Atlantic had blackballed me and I’d run out of bread so they said: ‘You can use this studio.’ Brian would come down from his sandpit upstairs and sit in on the sessions and the band started singing on my records and stuff. It was an enlightened situation.”

À la même époque, Lloyd avait également fondé le groupe Celebration, une formation qui comprenait certains membres du groupe de tournée des Beach Boys, ainsi que Mike Love et Al Jardine. Le groupe Celebration avait enregistré deux albums.

Lloyd était brièvement retourné vers le jazz en 1981 afin de faire connaître le jeune pianiste français de dix-huit ans Michel Petrucciani. Faisaient aussi partie de la formation Son Ship Theus à la batterie et Palle Danielsson à la contrebasse.

Le retour de Lloyd avait été qualifié par le critique de jazz britannique Brian Case ‘’d’un des événements majeurs des années 1980.’’ La collaboration de Lloyd avec Petrucciani avait conduit à des tournées en Europe et au Japon en 1982 et 1983. Avec Petrucciani, Lloyd avait enregistré deux lbums en concert, ‘’Montreux 82’’ et ‘’A Night in Copenhagen’’, qui mettaient également en vedette le chanteur Bobby McFerrin.

Après s’être assuré que Petrucciani avai obtenu la reconnaissance qu’il méritait, Lloyd était retourné sur le Big Sur où il était resté en dehors de la scène du jazz durant une dizaine d’années.

ÉVOLUTION RÉCENTE

En 1986, après être contracté une maladie intestinale et avoir échappé de peu à la mort, Lloyd était retourné vers le jazz. Après avoir recouvré la santé en 1988, Lloyd avait formé un nouveau quartet avec le pianiste suédois Bobo Stenson. Lorsque Lloyd était retourné au Festival de jazz de Montreux la même année, le critique suisse Yvan Ischer avait écrit: "To see and hear Charles Lloyd in concert is always an event, not only because this saxophonist has been at quite a few crossroads, but also because he seems to hold an impalpable truth which makes him a thoroughly original musician...This is what we call grace."

En juillet 1989, Lloyd avait inaugué une longue collaboration avec les son premier album disques ECM, avec lesquels il avait enregistré un premier album intitulé ‘’Fish Out of Water.’’ Participaient également à l’enregistrement Bobo Stenson au piano, Palle Danielsson à la contrebasse et Jon Christensen à la batterie. Lors de la publication de l’album, le fondateur et producteur des disques ECM, Manfred Eicher, avait comparé l’enregistrement à une peinture de l’artiste suisse Alberto Giacometti en déclarant: "I really believe this is the refined essence of what music should be. All the meat is gone, only the bones remain." Les autres albums de Lloyd pour ECM comprenaient ‘’Notes From Big Sur’’ (1991), ‘’The Call’’ (1993), ‘’All My Relations’’ (1994), ‘’Canto’’ (1997), ’’Voice in the Night’’ (1998), ’’The Water Is Wide’’ (1999) (mettant en vedette le pianiste Brad Mehldau, le guitariste John Abercrombie, le contrebassiste Larry Grenadier et le batteur Billy Higgins), l’album live ’’Rabo de Nube’’ (2008, avec Jason Moran, Reuben Rogers et Eric Harland) et ’’Lift Every Voice’’ (2013).

Les albums de Lloyd pour ECM qui comprenaient des éléments d’expérimentation, étaient énormément influencés par les musiques du monde, comme sur son album en duo ‘’Which Way Is East’’ avec son ami et partenaire de longue date Billy Higgins. Enregistré en 2001, peu avant la mort du batteur, l’album a été publié en 2012. Le critique Linton Chiswick du magazine Gramophone avait écrit au sujet de l’album ‘’Canto’’ sur lequel Lloyd avait joué du hautbois tibétain: "Canto has the most exquisite opening of any jazz record made in a very long time.... Canto is a masterpiece. Resonant with the fragile, ethereal concentration that forms the life-force of Lloyd's music, it is the sound of a group that hasactually managed to create its own language."

En décembre 1999, Lloyd avait réuni le même personnel (John Abercrombie, Dave Holland et Billy Higgins) que sur son album acclamé ‘’Voice in the Night’’ pour enregistrer l’album ‘’Wide Waters: The 1999 Charles Lloyd Sessions’’. Enregistré à Los Angeles, l’album n’avait été publié qu’en juin 2013. Sur cet album, Lloyd avait rendu hommage à des compositeurs qui l’avaient particulièrement marqué au cours de sa carrière, comme Duke Ellington (“Black Butterfly’’ et ‘’“Heaven”), Billy Strayhorn (“Lotus Blossom”), et Cecil McBee (“Song Of Her”). La pièce-titre était une reprise d’une chanson traditionnelle écossaise.

Le 11 septembre 2001, Lloyd devait se produire au cabaret Blue Note de New York. La tragédie du World Trade Center avait obligé Lloyd à remettre le concert. Conscient que la terreur était un important levier de solidarité, Lloyd avait réagi à sa façon en enregistrant l’album ‘’Lift Every Voice’’. Enregistré en février 2002, l’album mettait à contribution Geri Allen au piano, John Abercrombie à la guitare, Marc Johnson et Larry Grenadier à la contrebasse et Billy Hart à la batterie. L’album n’a cependant été publié qu’en juin 2013. Sur le disque, Lloyd interprétait ses propres compositions ainsi que des classiques comme ‘’Amazing Grace’’, ‘’I’m Afraid’’ de Duke Ellington et “Blood Count’’ de Billy Strayhorn.

En mai 2004, Lloyd avait aussi enregistré ‘’Sangam’’, un album en trio avec Zakir Hussain (tabla, voix et percussion) et Eric Harland (batterie, percussion, piano). Le mois suivant, Lloyd était retourné en studio pour enregistrer l’album ‘’Jumping the Creek’’ avec une formation composée de Geri Allen au piano, de Robert Hurst à la contrebasse et d’Eric Harland à la batterie. L’album a été publié en juin 2013.

L’album ‘’Mirror’’ (2010), le second enregistrement de Lloyd avec son New Quartet, avait été qualifié de ‘’classique’’ par la critique. L’album live ‘’Rabo de Nube’’ (2008) a été proclamé album de l’année dans le cadre des sondages des lecteurs et des critiques du magazine Jazz Times. L’album avait été enregistré avec un quartet composé de Jason Moran au piano, de Reuben Rogers à la contrebasse et d’Eric Harland à la batterie.

À la même époque, Lloyd avait également collaboré avec la chanteuse classique grecque Maria Farantouri dans le cadre d’un concert présenté à l’Herodion Theater de l’Acropole, à Athènes. Ta Nea, un journal d’Athènes, avait commenté: "Music has no borders...The audience was filled with a Dionysian ecstasy. While the music had reminiscences of a Hypiros fair, at the same time it took you to the heart of New York City." Le concert a été enregistré et a été publié par les disques ECM sous le titre d’’’Athens Concert’’ en 2011.

En 2013, Lloyd a célébré son 75e anniversaire de naissance dans le cadre de concerts présentés au Metropolitan Museum of Art de New York City et au Kennedy Center Concert Hall de Washington, D.C. La même année, Lloyd a également été honoré par l’Université du Texas à l’occasion d’un concert de ses oeuvres mettant en vedette la Huston-Tillotson University Concert Choir, la University of Texas Concert Chorale et la Prairie View Texas A&M University Concert Choir.

En janvier 2015, on avait annoncé que Lloyd avait signé un contrat avec les disques Blue Note. ‘’Wild Man Dance’’, un album en concert sur lequel Lloyd interprétait une longue suite pour quartet de piano, contrebasse, batterie et saxophone qui lui avait été commandée par le Jazztopad Festival de Wroclaw, en Pologne, a été publié en avril 2015. Deux ans plus tard, le festival Jazztopad avait commandé à Lloyd une oeuvre multimédia intitulée “Red Waters, Black Sky.”

En 2016, Lloyd avait fondé le groupe The Marvels avec qui il avait publié l’album “Charles Lloyd & the Marvels, I Long To See You” sur étiquette Blue Note. Le groupe était composé des guitaristes Bill Frisell et Greg Leisz, du contrebassiste Reuben Rogers et du batteur Eric Harland. L’album mettait aussi en vedette Norah Jones et Willie Nelson comme artistes invités. Lloyd retraçait ainsi les origines du groupe:

“I used to play at this club in Memphis, where a country band was always finishing up as we came in. Their pedal steel guitar player, Al Vescovo, fell in love with my playing, and I with his. He and I became friends, which wasn’t easy on account of the color lines. But the warmth of our friendship was pure. I eventually left for California, and we never saw each other again. Years later, I started performing with Bill Frisell—a seeker whose music, like mine, dances on many shores. On the road, between concerts, I was always reminiscing with him about this young musician from my teens. One night, he invited a pedal steel guitar player to sit in on a concert we played at UCLA’s Royce Hall. That turned out to be Greg Leisz. Hearing him brought full circle a childhood feeling of that instrument and its sonority. Thus, The Marvels were born, because what had happened was a marvel.”

En 2018, le groupe avait publié un second album intitulé “Vanished Gardens” avec Lucinda Williams comme artiste invitée. Ce disque avait été suivi en mars 2021 de ‘’Tone Poem’’, le troisième album du groupe Charles Lloyd & the Marvels. En plus de trois compositions originales de Lloyd, l’album comprenait des oeuvres de Leonard Cohen (‘’Anthem’’), Ornette Coleman (“Peace” et “Ramblin’”) et Thelonious Monk (‘’Monk’s Mood’’).

Très apprécié comme compositeur et arrangeur, Lloyd a obtenu d’autres commandes au cours de sa longue carrière. Son opéra ‘’Song of Solomon’’ a été présenté en première à Detroit, au Michigan, en 1988. Les compositions et les arrangements de Lloyd étaient aussi en vedette sur l’album ‘’Great Day in the Morning and Spirituals’’, de Jessye Norman. Lloyd a également écrit les arrangements de l’album ‘’The Passion of Christ in Spirituals’’ de la soprano Veronica Tyler, de l’album ‘’Let it Shine’’ de la soprano Laura-English Robinson, et du premier album de la mezzo soprano Carolyn Sebron. Compositeur prolifique, Lloyd a également écrit plus de soixante arrangements choraux de spirituals et d’hymnes sous le titre de ‘’The Invisible Church.’’ En 1990, Kathleen Battle et Jessye Norman ont interprété deux compositions de Lloyd dans le cadre de l’album ‘’Spirituals in Concert’’, enregistré sur étiquette Deutsche Grammophon. En 2000, les Warner Bros. Publications ont publié une compilation des spirituals de Lloyd sous le titre de The Spiritual Art Song Collection.

Le 2 août 2008, l’opéra de Lloyd ‘’Emmett Till’’ a été présenté en grande première au Science High School de Newark, au New Jersey. L’oeuvre avait été commandée par la Trilogy Opera Company. Lloyd a aussi été en vedette dans le cadre de la Hamilton Fairfield Symphony Orchestra American Masters Concert Series. Les pièces ‘’Ballad of the Black Mother” et “Amazing Grace”, composées et arrangées par Lloyd, figurent sur l’album  ‘’Songs of America’’ du baryton-basse Oral Moses. Lloyd a également été un des compositeurs invités sur ‘’The Sisyphus Syndrome’’, un concert thématique dans la plus pure des tradition du poète Amiri Baraka, qui a été présenté au Schomburg Center for Research in Black Culture. En 2011, la cantate de Lloyd intitulée “Spirit Song” pour soprano, baryton, choeur et piano a été présentée en première dans le cadre du 200e anniversaire de la révolte des esclaves de 1811 en Louisiane.

En 2019, Lloyd avait aussi été chargé par le Alonzo King’s Lines Ballet  de composer un ballet intitulé “Azoth”. L’oeuvre a été présentée en première mondiale le 1er octobre 2019. Lloyd a aussi été mandaté pour écrire deux chansons pour le chanteur basse Kevin Maynor sur un texte du Sud-Africain Don Matera. L’oeuvre peut être entendue sur l’album ‘’The Black Art Song.’’ Plusieurs des spirituals de Lloyd ont été publiés.

En 2020, les disques Blue Note ont publié un coffret en édition limitée intitulé “Charles Lloyd, 8, Kindred Spirits”, qui comprenait un livre de photographies de 96 pages, quatre microsillons et un DVD d’une de ses performances en concert. Lloyd a aussi joué le rôle d’accompagnateur officiel dans le cadre de plusieurs compétitions internationales dont l’International Voice Competition de Rio de Janeiro, l’International Gaudeamus Competition of 20th Century Music de Rotterdam, la Munich Voice Competition, et la 6e compétition Internationale de chant Tchaikovsky à Moscou.

Véritable force de la nature, Lloyd a enregistré une vingtaine d’albums depuis qu’il a signé un contrat avec ECM en 1989. Lorsqu’on parlait à Lloyd de sa remarquable productivité, il répondait: “I’m a seeker and I’m trying to change the world, right? And I’m doing it with sound.” Depuis le début de son association avec les disques Blue Note en 2015, Lloyd avait continué de travailler avec des musiciens d’un peu partout sur la planète (provenant notamment de l’Inde, de Hongrie et de Grèce), tout en collaborant avec des vedettes de la musique pop comme Norah Jones, Willie Nelson et Lucinda Williams, ce qui lui avait permis de conquérir un nouveau public. Lloyd expliquait: “Back in Memphis I used to jam with a country band who had a hot pedal steel guitar player so, by playing with Bill Frisell [guitar] and Greg Leisz [pedal steel], I’ve managed to reach after that. I like weird connections because I don’t like to play with one hand behind my back. I got to have a full deck of cards: no restrictions.”

Refusant toute étiquette, Lloyd a toujours des goûts aussi éclectiques: il interprête même ses propres versions de chansons de Bob Dylan et de Brian Wilson. Même si le style de Lloyd n’avait pas vraiment changé depuis les années 1960, il avait commencé à se faire connaître comme interprète de ballades, notamment depuis la parution de l’album ‘’The Water is Wide’’ en 2000, avec une formation composée de Brad Mehldau, John Abercrombie, Larry Grenadier et Billy Higgins.

Multi-instrumentiste, Lloyd joue du saxophone ténor et du saxophone alto, de la flûte et de divers instruments à anche. Lorsqu’on demandait à Lloyd quelle était sa définition du jazz, il répondait:

"This is a music of freedom and wonder. It uplifts, it inspires, it touches the heart, and it heals. It is transformational. Jazz is our indigenous art form and is constantly evolving while remaining deeply rooted in tradition and nourished by the American terroir. I have been drunk with the pursuit of ‘the sound’ all my life – and have been blessed to stand on the shoulders of those who came before me and gave encouragement – this is also part of the tradition." 

Se décrivant lui-même comme une sorte d’archéologue ou d’astronome, Lloyd avait ajouté: “I’m an archeologist and astronomer, trying to make a breakthrough. I have this dream that I’m going to melt into the music and I’ll become what it is. It’s such a beautiful gift that I’ve been given of being able to continue to explore. I pick up the instrument and I play and I can’t put it down. It takes me. I go out in nature and come home with these quantum mechanics in my heart.”

Charles Lloyd a remporté plusieurs prix au cours de sa carrière. En 2013, le Festival international de jazz de Montréal a décerné à Lloyd le prestigieux Miles Davis Award. Le 25 juin 2014, la National Endowment for the Arts avait annoncé qu’elle avait décerné à Lloyd un Jazz Master Awards, le plus important honneur pouvant être remis à un musicien de jazz aux États-Unis. La même année, Lloyd avait été honoré dans le cadre du Jazz Legends Gala du Festival de Jazz de Monterey. Le gala était animé par le pianiste Herbie Hancock. Toujours en 2014, Lloyd avait remporté le Alfa Jazz Fest International Music Award. En 2015, le Berklee College of Music a décerné à Lloyd un doctorat honorifique en musique. Lloyd a reçu son doctorat au cours d’une cérémonie tenue dans le cadre du Umbria Jazz Festival en juillet 2015. Lloyd a également été intronisé au sein du Memphis Music Hall of Fame en 2016. L’année suivante, le Festival de jazz de San Sebastian lui a attribué un Lifetime Achievement Award. En août 2019, Lloyd a aussi été nommé Chevalier de l’Ordre des Arts et des Lettres par le ministre de la Culture de France.

Toujours actif sur la scène du jazz à l’âge de plus de quatre-vingt ans, Charles Lloyd vit à Santa Monica en Californie avec son épouse, l’architecte et gérante Dorothy Darr. Le couple avait vécu la majorité des années 1970 dans le Big Sur, dans une modeste maison de campagne d’inspiration japonaise qui avait été le premier projet architectural de la carrière de Darr. Lorsqu’il Lloyd était tombé gravement malade en 1986, Lloyd avait décidé de se rapprocher des médecins. Darr expliquait: “When Charles had a health crisis, when he nearly died in ’86, we realized that we needed to be closer to doctors. We actually were here when that happened. Had he been up there, he would not be here now. So that was how we shifted permanently down here.” La nouvelle maison du couple, également conçue par Darr, a été érigée en 1998 sur une propriété que le couple possédait depuis 1982. Commentant le travail de son épouse, Lloyd avait déclaré: “She has had architects want to come and see her house. These guys are supposed to be doing this for a living. She’s a renaissance woman.’’ Lloyd avait ajouté: “After we lived in New York in lofts, I still want to live in a loft, you know? [Darr] lived in Florence. From Florence, she says, ‘OK, he needs a loft and I need the gentility of an Italian, Moorish house.’ We had this land and she built this space. The beautiful thing is that you don’t hear any sounds and you don’t have people bothering you. I think it helps me to aerate, to go for hikes in the mountains and go swimming in the water. All of that stuff is still important to me.”

Compositeur, pianiste, arrangeur et accompagnateur, Charles Lloyd est aussi professeur de musique et directeur de chorale à l’Université Southern et au College A & M, à Baton Rouge, en Louisiane.

La carrière et les compositions de Lloyd ont fait l’objet de deux thèses de doctorat: ‘’The Vocal Works of Charles Lloyd, Jr.: The Dramatic Works, Art Songs and Spiritual Art Song’’ de Charis Kelly Hudson (Louisiana State University, décembre 2011) et ‘’The Contributions of Twentieth Century African American Composers to the Solo Trumpet Repertoire: A Discussion and Analysis of Selected works by: Ulysses s. Kat, Adolphus C. Hailstork, Regina Harris Baiocchi, and Charles Lloyd, Jr.’’ d’Orrin Wilson (University of Nebraska, juin 2011).

Le violoniste classique Yehudi Menuhin avait écrit au sujet de Lloyd dans son autobiographie intitulée ‘’Unfinished Journey’’ publiée en 1976: “He was a special guy. He had this universal love for music. I like the guys with the universal thing.” Lecteur insatiable, Lloyd recommandait particulièrement l’ouvrage ‘’Indian Tales’’ de l’ethnomusicologue français d’origine espagnole Jaime de Angulo. Il expliquait: “It’s about the indigenous people who lived in our area in Big Sur, the Esalen tribe. Down here, it’s the Chumash, but up there, it’s the Esalen. Marvelous stories about them. And on our property, there grew this plant, this datura. It’s like a trumpet flower and a vine. It had medicinal purposes. They could brew a tea with it. It was a hallucinogen. They would have ceremonies up on this part of our land. I got the hit from it.”

Considéré comme le plus hippie des musiciens de jazz, Charles Lloyd a inspiré le commentaire suivant au critique Peter Watrous du New York Times: “Mr. Lloyd has come up with a strange and beautiful distillation of the American experience, part abandoned and wild, part immensely controlled and sophisticated.”

©-2023, tous droits réservés, Les Productions de l’Imaginaire historique

[bluepoodle7]

#FakeGameBattle #JohnDoe #IfDoeWasAIllbleedBossAndHowToDefeatHim #Ending2InMyAU #ZableFable

Ending 2 Zable Fable would be the most scared of Doe since a knife is in play.

She would "die" but get up from her dormant shifter half and fight them off or teleport out of there to not hurt Doe.

Maybe fight Doe Illbleed style with her dual shot water gun she/they copied.

This would play in the battle but mainly from Janet.

Rootin-Tootin Love - SiIvaGunner: King for Another Day - YouTube

How a Illbleed stage and battle would work.

Mostly having the character enter a stage that looks like their house feeling safe but weirded out because they hear noises like scrapping & monster noises.

Your character opens the door to see Doe just there with a knife in hand then the battle begins but with the twinge sfx.

------------------------------------------

I image if John Doe was a Illbleed boss with a stage.

The traps would be sight and smell based with a few hearing ones.

Have like mini doeballs attack you when your sixth sense goes off thinking its a item that you need.

Then you try to read the diary entries but you can't read them and have to find a decoder in the stage to finally read all the entries which unlocks the boss with a cutscene.

Doe would definitely have three Tv traps.

One where his is distorted and scary.

Another one where it's a chibi version of Doe doing something cute. (If you marked the trap right.)

You just do the got it pose without noise and continue on but you can still watch him do it.

(If marked.)

The battle

-----------

I can also imagine John Doe's hair grabbing you & swinging you around if you fight close contact with Doe.

I imagine the other close contact weapon would be a pocket knife similar to Doe's.

Also having red glowing eyes similar to Stakataka as a warning.

Doe Illbleed style boss battle would be in his room but similar to the Queen Worm Level.

John Doe would attack the player with the knife and you can dodge them then later shoot Doe's fake body with water to slowly melt.

Then you see Doe freaking out and jumping into his trash.

This slowly heals Doe in battle that you need to spray the trash to "clean" his room to defeat him.

Bonus if you water gun spray Doe mid jump in the trash pile healing up or already in it.

But this would be the queen worm like stage Doe would hide in the trash in his house to heal up.

If you get close to the pile he will jump up and stab you but Zable's got those Illbleed controls in this Au.

Have a cutscene of his fake body melting in a face melting gruesome way then scuttling off as a hairball squeaking and bumping into things for a B movie effect.

A alternate Zable Fable or a Yousona that is scared of John Doe but can fight back be like.

I imagine when using the horror monitor of X-ray glasses on John Doe it just shows Doe's hair ball form similar to the anatomy.

Might make that part of the Au.

This is basically the Illbleed boss fight with John Doe in the Au if my art was good.

John Doe Illbleed Au Feel

-----------------------------

John Doe's Illbleed stage in this Au feels like it would be a long walk similar to the ending to level 3 near the end to make you bleed out while also having traps that make your heart rate go up while having traps that make you bleed.

Maybe have Doe's vehicle hit you.

Also having the meat from level 4 randomly put in the level but it's censored for some reason like it's glitched out.

Every let's play the meat gets swapped out from chicken, beef, & pork but a fish one gets added.

The fish is just a fish head with a skeleton lower half frozen.

I can see Doe's house room level run out of messy hiding spots like it takes the level a little longer to reload those spots.

So I would make John Doe summoning a few Doeball little regular guys but be shown eating one to heal himself to represent him regaining body mass.

While your character can't heal in battle but the enemy can similar to Bullstinger mixed with the Cashman Cashman Juniors mini spiders enemies that are hard to hit since they are small but the water gun will work like the flamethrower but is a water version.

Doe would teleport like Banballow but can be pause menu stunned like Banballow, The Woodcutters, and Mary in the overworld chase scene.

I would make two endings one where you reject John Doe and you fight him off like classic Illbleed boss with a level to match.

Using his fake human form to pretend to be a rescued character but will be a trap you need to mark to avoid the boss battle that you can't fight.

The other route would be that you like him but the game still acts like a Illbleed level but Doe will want to talk saying it was a misunderstanding to fight you but he will be in his true human form texture.

Then the cutscene will act like a B movie love story but a new monster will replace John Doe and John Doe will be added as a rescued party member.

The photo taken will be the regular guy form in the picture but stretched out like his true form is inside of the fake body that bleeds fake blood.

You can also swap out the characters to use in the new boss battle but if you play as Doe the workers will make up a new monster but will glitch out in the middle of the battle.

This is due to the monster not fitting in the level theme while also being rushed out to be made that voice lines or sound effects don't exist while also will just freeze up and T-pose to expose the weakpoint that is a plug tail that you need to unplug to defeat the monster.

Another method is unplug and plug it back in to make the boss kind of works but it walks to where the worker that is controlling it to kill them.

The workers will freakout that they might be fired or killed due to this happening but your character will just shrug it off then walk away awkwardly to the clear end goal.

I can see the Illbleed worker in this au freaking out that you befriended the boss of the level that when the new boss gets introduced then the game will hastily play a intro backstory for the boss from the company that is made up with the narrator messing up saying the story.

---------------------------------------------

I image John Doe being like Cork saving a Yousona from danger in his own little way.

I wonder if a Yousona is in really deep danger would John Doe save the yousona in like Dante's inferno or Persephone?

Mostly this version from HBO that I remembered as a kid.

Video not mine but link is there.

ATotW Fav. #2 - Persephone - YouTube

John Doe really be Hades kidnapping a Yousona like Persephone in the little time loop Doe makes.

And eating the pomegranate seeds is like the Ending 4 and the underworld is his house.

These posters would be a good Illbleed style poster but parody the names again and have Doe's true face appear randomly on the poster but make it hidden like a easter egg.

Images not mine but links are there.

Ending 2 | JOHN DOE Wiki | Fandom

Snek plays Illbleed (No Commentary) (Sega Dreamcast 2001) Part 1 (The Homerun of Death) - YouTube

CLEAR - YouTube

Wikihow Dog Sprayed By Hose | Know Your Meme

Meet John Doe (1941) - IMDb

[kenovele]

Bog’s blog 15

Back at it. Je vous écris depuis l’agréable maison du lac. On est descendu au lac pour fêter les 89 ans de John (alias Deeda) en famille. Après une très belle semaine au niveau météo, les prévisions annonçait à nouveau de forte pluie pour le weekend. Dans le nord, certaines régions ont encore bu la tasse avec 300mm en moins de 24h. Les vents étaient limités cette fois-ci mais les crues éclairs ont quand même fait des dégâts conséquents. Je suis assez peu informé mais une chose est sûr, les difficultés continuent pour les sinistrés. De notre côté, on semble éviter le pire à chaque fois. Alors que les parents repoussaient leur départ au lendemain parce que la route était trop dangereuse, nous au lac (on était arrivé dans la journée avec les grand-parents) la terrasse est restée sèche. Samedi et dimanche on a bénéficié d’une belle météo qui nous a permis de jouer tennis. Le court était endommagé par le temps pluvieux. Il est en sable compacté. Il se trouve juste à côté du lac et comme le lac est à un niveau presque jamais vu, le terrain ne draine pas très bien. Je jouais sur une toute petite languette samedi mais dimanche la totalité était praticable et on a pu sortir notre meilleur jeu. Nous sommes assez contents de notre progression avec Kate. On commence à lâcher des slices et mettre de l’intensité dans les échanges. Je vous dirai quand on fait notre premier match. Il faut qu’on s’exerce un peu au service aussi. En tout cas, malgré la qualité très moyenne du court, c’est un vrai régal de jouer là. Le court à Pukekohe est à côté de la route principal et c’est très difficile de discuter en jouant. Il y a un bruit de fond constant. Ça contraste avec le court du lac où tu es dans un parc entouré de vieux chêne avec le lac et le volcan Tarawera comme paysage. Je note tous les bons petits plans pour m’assurer que quand vous viendrez vous goûtiez au meilleur des plaisirs néo-zélandais. Je compte également amener mon VTT au lac parce qu’il y a plein de pistes dédiées à ça dans les environs. Idéalement on débloquera un budget pour se payer deux électriques dans un futur pas trop éloigné mais je ne pense pas que ce soit la priorité de Kate. On beaucoup de projet et des rêves plein la tête. Il va vraiment falloir que je la caresse dans le sens du poil si je veux faire passer celui-là avant les autres. En parlant de ça, Kate veut faire une épilation lazer. Le budget vélo pourrait en prendre un coup. Après tout, les poils sont mauvais pour l’aérodynamisme donc j’imagine que ce serait l’ordre logique. En attendant ces balades fantasmagoriques en amoureux, je me ferais des petits moments en solitaire dans le magnifique bush néo-zélandais sur mon « musculaire ». Je parle de mon VTT parce qu’il est arrivé dans le container. Je l’ai remonté (il était en morceaux) cette semaine mais je n’ai pas encore regonflé les pneux. Il faut que je l’emmène faire un petit tour à l’occasion. 
 Je me rends compte que j’ai commencé ce blog en parlant de la fin de la semaine/du futur donc je vais progressivement rembobiné. Le vendredi, comme je l’ai dit, on est descendu avec les grand-parents dans la journée. On leur a proposé de faire leur chauffeur et ils ont accepté. Kate avait une visite de site sur le chemin. Elle doit redesign les fondations d’un petit pont de ferme qui a été endormagé pendant les inondations. J’ai donc fait sa petite main et j’ai creusé des trous sous l’œil attentif des grand-parents. Kate adore les ponts et elle était toute chose. Après le dur labeur, je me suis vu offrir un « pork belly burger » avec des « kumara chips » dans un café de la petite ville fermière d’à côté. C’était délicieux. Après le repas, avec la peau du ventre bien tendue, j’ai avoué à Kate que si j’étais riche, j’en recommanderais bien un. Les rues de la petite ville étaient décorées avec plein de vaches peintes par des artistes différents. Sur la route on a vu énormément de troupeaux qui pâturaient dans l’herbe inhabituellement verte et grasse pour un mois de février. J’ai eu un bon gros coup de pompe en conduisant. La combinaison de la température qui était réglée sur « thermosta grand-parent » et le gros lunch qui tapissait mon estomac m’ont fait la prise de Mr Spok. J’ai tenu bon. C’était une super journée niveau nourriture parce que le soir on s’est fait des pizzas ! ça faisait 4 semaines qu’on loupait le pizza friday pour diverses raisons et quel bonheur c’était de le retrouver. Burger à midi, pizza le soir, qu’est ce que je peux espérer de plus ? Reste de pizza samedi matin peut être ! Malheureusement Sally en a décidé autrement. J’ai failli faire une crise cardiaque quand elle parlait de congeler les restes. Sacrilège ! Vade retro satanas ! Heureusement, ce n’est pas encore arrivé. Je suis toujours dans l’incertitude vis-à-vis de ce qu’on mange ce midi. Je ne peux pas aller à contre-courant mais croyez-moi, j’en ai envie haha. 
 J’ai passé un peu de temps cette semaine à donner des nouvelles et à en recevoir. Je me rends compte avec envie que mes amis d’humanité passent leur soirée à gecko (jusqu’à 2 h du mat en semaine avec Jéjé après leurs cours) à boire des bières. Ils vont aussi souvent à l’éléphant. C’est un peu offensant qu’ils aient attendu que je m’en aie pour s’y mettre. Pour ce qui est des perf, j’ai appris que Paul a réussi une 8a à Bleau, Clem a enchainé une 7a à top rock, papa s’entraine avec Claude et a passé une 6c+ (si je me trompe pas), Ludo a flash une 6a à Gecko et François a reçu une beastmaker (pour s’entrainer). Autant vous dire que toute ma vie sociale belge grimpe et ils ont faim. J’ai intérêt à revenir avec des bras pas trop raplapla. Acheter un billet d’avion pour la Belgique ça sera un peu comme s’inscrire au grand raid. Fixer un objectif et une deadline. Je me réjouis déjà à l’idée de partager vos succès !  Ça fait vraiment plaisir d’entendre que tout le monde s’arrache pendant (et après) les séances. 

Pour ce qui est des travaux sur la tiny, le rythme est un petit retombé après un gros push le weekend de bardage. J’ai fignolé pas mal de petits détails avant la prochaine grosse étape : le gib. Cependant, on va devoir opérer une savante coordination entre Brodie (l’électricien) et Jamie pour que tout soit prêt à temps. Jamie est à un festival avec sa copine ce weekend donc ce sera les deux apprentis qui reprendront le flambeau. Brodie est sensé nous raccorder à l’électricité et de certifier le reste de l’installation. On est de plus en plus excité à l’idée d’emménager mais la liste des choses à faire est encore longue. Je vous tiens au courant avec des petites vidéos d’update dès qu’il y a des choses excitantes qui se passent.  Le mur en bois sur la façade avant nous met des étoiles dans les yeux dès qu’on passe devant. J’espère que vous l’appréciez aussi. Je suis allé acheter de l’huile pour mettre une couche dessus cette semaine. J’ai demandé des renseignements à une dame sur la quantité que je devais acheter. J’ai montré plus ou moins la taille du mur qu’on devait protéger et la dame m’a dit que je n’aurais peut-être pas assez avec 4l. Les 1l et 4l étaient out of stock donc j’ai logiquement acheté 10l. Je pense qu’il y a eu un petit quiproquo sur la surface à recouvrir parce que après avoir mis une couche, il me restait 10x trop. Bref notre bois sera bichonné, soigné aux petits oignons, astiqué et huilé comme les cheveux d’un ado. On aura éventuellement d’autre bois à recouvrir comme l’encadrure des fenêtres, la terrasse, le boxing de notre jardin potager réhaussé, … tout va y passer. Je m’engage à justifier mon achat ! On a même demandé à Sally si elle voulait qu’on mette une couche sur la terrasse du lac qui a l’air un peu grise mais elle a refusé. C’est le même bois que sur notre façade mais peut-être qu’elle préfère un coloris plus discret. J’ai également fait l’acquisition à ce magasin de petit pot de peinture pour l’essai. Les meubles de la cuisine vont être les seul endroit peint en couleur de la maison.  Le reste sera soit en bois, soit peint en blanc. On a assez peu de surface murale qui ne sont pas recouverte d’étagères ou décoré par les peintures de Michel. Cette couleur est donc un choix crucial et nous sommes ouvert aux votes parmi les 5 que nous proposons. Je vous mettrais une photo. 


Les idées de news se tarissent et je pense que je vais en rester là pour cette semaine. J’espère que Kate prendra bien soin de vous next week et je vous donne rdv le 12 mars pour des informations sensationnelles. Bisous.

[ranvwoop]

the nature of OCs is eventually you create one that is rat by pnelope scott-able. anyways I'm still thinking about ran n watson

[alleiradayne]

Four-Leaf Clover | Art Master Post

A Destiel AU Series

After six months in prison, Dean Winchester turns state's evidence against his mob boss, Francis McGill, and cuts a deal. Assistant District Attorney Castiel Novak is tasked with organizing a case against McGill, and through that, he meets Dean. Together, they analyze Dean's statement, and with each interview, they unravel not only what appears to be a coverup, but a romantic spark between them that neither had anticipated. Can the ex-criminal and the attorney navigate their relationship while juggling the case? Or will their incongruent pasts prove insurmountable?

Characters/Pairings: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester (mentioned), Francis McGill (OMC, mentioned), Detective Butcher (OMC, mentioned), Naomi (mentioned), Pam Barnes, Anna Milton, Kegan (OMC), Denny (OMC), Vinnie (OMC), Roscoe (OMC), Kieran Cassle (mentioned), John Winchester (mentioned), Mary Winchester (mentioned), Crowley a.k.a. Fergus

Warnings/Tags: Legal fic, Alternate Universe, ex-criminal Dean Winchester, lawyer Castiel Novak, human Castiel, mob crime, Irish mob, Boston mob, violence, language, romance, will they/won’t they, fluff, comedy.

Total Word Count: 20,196

A/N: For @deancasreversebang​​ 2022, I selected @casgirl-sheha​​‘s art of ex-criminal Dean Winchester and lawyer Castiel Novak linked above.

Songs: Naked Lunch by Howard Shore, Take Five by The Dave Brubeck Quartet, Selfish Man by Flogging Molly, Sh-Boom by The Crew Cuts, Saints & Sinners by Flogging Molly, Peter Gunn by Henry Mancini, Rebels of the Sacred Heart by Flogging Molly, Goodbye Pork Pie Hat by Charles Mingus, Grace of God Go I by Flogging Molly, and If I Ever Leave This World Alive by Flogging Molly

Chapter 1 - Naked Lunch

Chapter 2 - Take Five

Chapter 3 - Selfish Man

Chapter 4 - Sh-Boom

Chapter 5 - Saints & Sinners

Chapter 6 - Peter Gunn

Chapter 7 - Rebels of the Sacred Heart

Chapter 8 - Goodbye Pork Pie Hat

Chapter 9 - Grace of God Go I

Chapter 10 - If I Ever Leave This World Alive

This series is complete! Reblogs are loved and feedback is welcome!

[tedturneriscrazy]

Inspired by @nikkydash 's Taco Dragon AU, here are a couple of dishes that could show up on the menu: Carnitas Fried Rice and Beef Broccoli Fajitas!

Side note: Here's the shirt that happened to come up in rotation for today. Appropriate!

Carnitas Fried Rice

For the carnitas:

Pork shoulder

Freshly squeezed lime juice

Kosher salt

Freshly ground black pepper

Ground cumin

Ground oregano

Couple dashes Chinese five spice powder

Crushed garlic

Heavy cream

Allow to marinate for an hour, cook at medium-medium low in well-seasoned lard, then crank up the heat for a crispy exterior.

Shred the pork once drained.

(Don't mind the quality control taco, which was absolutely delicious, btw)

Here's a mise en place shot for everything, including the beef broccoli coming up later. Also pictured is homemade pico de gallo.

Anyway, to finish off the fried rice

Rice cooked the night before in chicken broth

Carnitas

Eggs

White onion

Jalapeños

Green onions

Oyster sauce

Hot/taco sauce of your choice (tonight's was Aardvark Serrabanero, a local favorite)

Beef Broccoli Fajitas

For the beef broccoli I used this recipe:

I roasted the broccoli in the oven at 500°F to get a char (technique courtesy of Chef John from Food Wishes).

Also sauteed some bell peppers and onions for fajita assembly.

And the finished product! The "sour cream" (played tonight by plain Greek yogurt) worked surprisingly well with the beef broccoli. The fajitas were quite nice overall, but in my opinion the star of the show was the fried rice. Rich, fatty pork is always a good fried rice add-in, and the addition of the hot sauce gave a spicy bite that cut through the richness of the dish for a refreshing finish. A successful endeavor all around!

[rick-rayson]

MASTERLIST

I take requests for DC, Marvel, and the Umbrella Academy (No NSFW because I suck at it)

Characters I write for:

DC: (Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Timothy Drake, Damian Wayne, Duke Thomas, Cassandra Cain, Barbara Gordon, Stephanie Brown, Klarion Bleak, Crazy Jane, Starfire, Diana Prince, Yara Flor. Adrian Chase, Albert Rothstein)

MCU: (Avengers, Eternals, Kate Bishop, Valkyrie, Jane Foster, America Chavez)

UA: (Literally all the Hargreeves)

FALLOUT: (Lucy MacLean)

(Last updated: 11 April, 2024)

░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░

FALLOUT

LUCY MACLEAN:

Dating Headcanons

UA

Nothing yet. . .

MARVEL

IKARIS:

Lost Immortals: Ikaris chooses you over his mission.

—

KATE BISHOP:

(She's) Just A Phase: Kate takes you for granted.

RUMORS: Kate starts a rumor that gets you in trouble.

INCORRECT QUOTES:

Fell from heaven

—

ILLYANA RASPUTIN:

PORCELAIN SERIES:

Of Blood and Porcelain

Of Love and Clay

DC

—

BATFAMILY:

CITY OF DARKNESS SERIES: The corruptive city of Gotham has a way of bringing the worst out of the best people.

PT.1

—

ALBERT ROTHSTEIN:

SFW Alphabet

—

TETH-ADAM:

SFW Alphabet

—

MAXINE HUNKEL:

SFW Alphabet

—

CASSANDRA CAIN:

Silent Knight: A brief interaction between you and the Black Knight Cassandra. / Medieval!AU

—

BARBARA GORDON:

Under My Skin : Barbara calms you down with a dance.

—

BATGIRLS:

Protective Batgirls : The Batgirls will always protect you.

Batgirls and Robin : What it's like being Robin to the Batgirls.

—

KLARION BLEAK:

Loose Tie : Klarion loves it when you fix his tie.

Subway Cereal : Klarion gets kicked out of the Teen Titans, you pay him a visit.

Chaos and Creation : Chaos and creation are one in the same, but Klarion wants you to explore both.

—

YARA FLOR:

SFW Alphabet Dramatics

HEADCANONS:

Dating Yara Flor

—

JONATHAN CRANE:

IMAGINES:

1. "How would the Batfamily react if Jason fell in love with Reader, but R only wants her boyfriend, Jonathan Crane."

—

INCORRECT QUOTES:

Ugly (Damian, Tim)

With a bomb (Dick, Damian)

Twas (Damian, Dick, Jason)

Todd repellent (Tim, Jason, Damian)

Guts and glory (Damian, Dick)

911 (Stephanie, Y/N)

Demon child (Jason, Damian)

Hairline (Jason, Dick, Damian)

Turning heads (Jason, Y/N)

Worst and best (Damian, Jason)

Rich men and pretty girls (Stephanie, Dick)

Two Robins (Superman, Batman)

Oh Rao (Stephanie, Barbara)

Positive (Stephanie, Jason, Damian, Tim)

Clever in Latin (Jason, Artemis)

Damian's love (Damian)

Accident (Tim, Damian, Jason)

No in Arabic (Jon, Damian)

Church (Dick, Damian, Stephanie, Jason, Tim)

John Constantine needs a mate (John, Y/N, King Shark)

Dick's buns (Dick, Jason)

If the patriarchy and capitalism had a body count

Proud (Klarion, Stephanie)

Batfamily Communications

Human litter box (Jason, Penguin, Dick)

Hair in food (Damian, Jason)

Crowbar (Damian, Jason)

Oomphiest whomp (Barbara, Y/N)

Monopoly (Barbara, Dick, Damian, Y/N)

Weeping (Dick, Tim)

Love is a pain in the ass (Dick, Y/N, Klarion, Icicle Jr)

Amelia Earhart (Dick, Y/N, Jason)

Pork-cupine (Dick, Y/N, Jason, Stephanie, Barbara, Damian, Cass)

Existential dread (Tim, Y/N, Damian)

Priceless (Jason, Damian)

Dead man running (Jason, Y/N)

Y/N's love triangle (Y/N, Icicle Jr, Klarion)

Batgirls Robin (Y/N, Barbara, Cass, Stephanie)

10 stories (Joker, Y/N, Jason)

Knock knock (Y/N, Tim)

Common sense (Riddler, Y/N)

Brotherly love (Y/N, Damian, Tim)

Stockholm syndrome (Y/N, Joker, Punchline, Stephanie)

Rob the rich furry (Bruce, Y/N)

Pass it on challenge

Belly (Damian, Y/N)

Lemons (Dick, Jason, Y/N)

Shtick

Gravity (Damian, Y/N)

Moo (Jason, Y/N)

Heart eyes (Y/N, Klarion, Damian)

Burnt Cookie (Klarion, Y/N)

—

HEADCANONS:

Best Breakfast Sandwiches

Gotham City Supremacy

Gotham's Rebirth

Zorro

Batfamily vs TikTok

Raya and The Last Dragon

INCORRECT QUOTES:

Top (Sisu, Raya)

Legs (Namaari, Raya)

Ignorance is bliss (Raya, Namaari)

Who said I wasn't gay? (Raya, Namaari)

[jungledubs-archive]

here are my helsmits in the au im making. + the other guys that also ended up in hels

bdubs = moss

cub = alevin

doc = law

etho = ethics

false = true

gem = capri

grian = gealach

hypno = fog

impulse = heart

iskall = boiling

jevin = e hartin

joe = john mountain

keralis = bug

mumbo = nonsense

pearl = clam

ren = crown

scar = wound

stress = relief

tango = ballet

tfc = aluminum baker / ab

beef = pork

wels = hels

xB = patch

xisuma = ax

zedaph = zedeath

cleo = angel tra

extra guys that r also there for some reason

ex, wormman, npg, robot grian, ariana griande, grumbot, jrumbot, badtimes

ooooooooh

[paladin-of-nerd-fandom65]

Hark the Angels sing; It’s MORE Random Mary Grayson Headcanons!!.....I have apparently lost control of myself but hey these are fun XD 

Some of these are ones that focus on what can possibly fit into proper DCU canon while some are from AUs I have in mind (prominently, ‘What if the Flying Graysons all survived yet their son still became a Robin and eventually Nightwing?’ or ‘What if Mary was resurrected as a Talon for the Court of Owls yet was her personality more or less got brought back to normal?’)  

 I appreciate any to all feedback from replies to likes, but ESPECIALLY Reblogs  and more so, Reblogs with additional headcanons 

Either way, enjoy this nonsense 

- (Flying Graysons Alive AU)  Mary is perhaps one of the very few people alongside Batman, Red Arrow, and Lian Harper who can actually eat Green Arrow’s infamous chili recipe. Not even her husband can do it, with the latter having to chug two whole gallons of milk to soothe the burns. 

- One of her favorite hobbies whenever not practicing on trapeze is reciting and acting out Shakespeare plays. Her favorites being Romeo & Juliet, King Lear, A Midsummer Night’s Dream, and Macbeth. Most of the time, John and her often love playing the final scene in Romeo and Juliet as the titular characters respectfully. Apparently Mary has a hidden natural skill of playing dead so well it looks convincing to anyone who doesn’t know better. 

- (Talon!Mary AU) Upon regaining her memories and most of her personality back, one of the first things Mary asks is naturally of who was it that raised her son while she was gone, especially since this person was apparently the one that taught Dick into honing his acrobatic skills into crime fighting. When learning it was Gotham based billionaire Bruce Wayne, Mary made a briefest of stops to Wayne Manor to confront him about it. On the one hand, as a mother, she was all too commonly concerned and a bit baffled about this acquaintance of her husband and her being the one to do this for Dick without their permission. On the other, had it not been for Bruce as Alfred rightfully points out, Dick’s fate could’ve been far worse given the care system Gotham had him or even the Court of Owls double crossing their deal with her and making Dick a Talon anyways. Also, Bruce explained indeed it was ultimately Dick’s decision to swear an oath to crime fighting and his choice to avenge what happened to John and her, finding the thugs responsible for it. She acknowledges this and rather than have any animosity, Mary thanks Bruce for doing what he can and helping her son becoming the young man he is nowadays, a leader of the Titans, defender of Bludhaven and generally probably her greatest wish, a good person int he end. She declines Bruce’s offer to stay in either Gotham or Bludhaven but does say if a Crisis get too much for him and the Batfamily to handle on their own, she’ll more than willing to lend a hand. Such irony, an owl being a friend with a bat. 

- Being a Catholic, Mary often prays the Rosary prayer every Sunday at night before bed and especially during Holy Week. Dick carries on this tradition when moving into Wayne Manor and even nowadays in either his Bludhaven apartment or his room in Titans Tower since that’s what his Mother taught him. 

- Mary firmly understands the general fear of clowns some people tend to get. She firmly understands of the numerous unfortunate implications that come with the bright make up, goofy antics and general oddness clowns exhibit when being approached by casual folks. But thankfully, she definitely knows plenty of good clowns that are among her closest friends at Haly’s Circus and can say for certain they are the norms, not this Joker and his partner Harley Quinn everyone keeps paying attention to instead. Mary generally dislikes Joker and Harley and for good darn reasons.  

- She designed almost all of the Flying Graysons uniforms for each and every one of their tours and shows. They usually depend on the types of performances they perform for the night on their tour maps, helpfully categorized by John with colored pins on said maps. If the show’s a blue pin (safest of the stunts, safety nets set up), Mary and her family are wearing an all blue outfit with disco-esque collars and bird motifs (New 52 Nightwing origin ones); on red pins (larger crowds,bolder stunts yet safety nets still set) an green sleeveless bodysuit with a giant yellow stylized G on the torso (All Star Batman and Robin and Nightwing [2018-] Annual #2); and finally for Black Pins (Largest of crowds, most bold of stunts, no safety nets, example being Gotham) a green scaly leotard with a red tunic, green pixie boots and a pre show yellow cape. Said tunics having a black and yellow letter on the right side meaning their first names for example ‘M’ for Mary on hers and an ‘R’ for Richard, or as she calls it, ‘Robin’.  

- During tours in Japan, Mary always insists to bring with them before they leave an entire week’s worth of the dish called Katsudon, beef or pork cutlet on top of rice along with other ingredients. It’s basically a buffet dinner in one bowl.  

- In terms of music, Mary likes rock n roll in almost all of its subgenres. What she listens too depends on her mood at the time of the day. For instance when cleaning their trailer on bright sunny day, The Beatles are likely being blasted on her record speakers. Conversely on rainy nights with the trailer to herself and in the mood for something a bit heavier, Black Sabbath and Metallica are what’s pumping out in her headphones, performing air guitar like crazy without noticing John or Dick walking in to see that, much to their amusement. Dick actually bought those same songs his mother plays on his phones when moving to Wayne Manor. Bruce actually liked a lot of the stuff Dick played, in particular Black Sabbath......except for any songs by the Ramones, the Misfits or any hardcore punk rock. Bruce just wasn’t a fan. 

- (Flying Graysons Alive AU) Mary and John, after the events of the Circus and settling into a decent apartment in Gotham with Mr Wayne as their landlord, take jobs at a nearby fitness center. In particular, they are trapeze teachers for anyone willing to give the ropes a try. No matter the students they get, both Graysons are given the opportunity to impart their skills and their amazing acrobatic prowess to a new generation beyond their son. It probably helps that since they’re at said fitness center until it’s closing hours, they arrive home at almost the same time their son barely comes back from his Robin patrols. 

- (Flying Graysons Alive AU) Mary ADORES her grandchildren Mar’i and Jake. She is almost THE go-to babysitter for them whenever her son and his wife Kory are away on a very intense Titans and/or Bludhaven mission. Though it must be said, watching over two Tamaranean-Human hybrids proves no easy task since either one or both of the two rascals can accidentally do some damage to the apartment with their starbolts or enhanced strength when not carefully. Perhaps the trickiest period was when Mar’i was barely coming out of her toddler phase but still had their stubborn temper that can ignite said starbolts. Thankfully as Mar’i got older and her baby brother Jake proved on being far more relaxed and chill than his older sister at his age, watching over the two of them became far easier. Whenever, the three interact in small talk, they all speak primarily in lovari Romani Chib. Sometimes when reading them Tamaranean bedtime stories, the kids help with Mary’s Tamaranean since she’s always curious to learn new languages. More often than not, whenever getting a call for Dick to help watch Mar’i and Jake,the first thing she does almost immediately is check their mustard supply given what her grandchildren drink. Overall, Mar’i and Jake are a joy when they visit Mary and John and she can’t be any happier than that. 

[spneveryseason]

If this is invasive or anything I apologize & just ignore it!!! But since you mentioned not being familair with christianity... were you raised in another culture/religion other than American/christian? If so, how about an SPN AU but with your background instead of American/christian?

Hshshsh I was raised in a complicated mishmash of cultural and national contexts but yes not raised Christian. So let’s go with my cultural and ethnic background and posit what an Arab Muslim version of spn would look like:

1. I’m gonna cheat a little for time/place and still have it be set in the US in the modern day bc I think spn is so deeply connected to Americana that I will fit it there where I can. BUT the cultural backgrounds of the Winchesters as Arabs and Muslims in a white Christian world would make the dynamic more interesting bc they would not be relying on their white male identity to get them through their work.

2. So, let’s talk about cultural stuff! Their names would actually probably stay the same, I have known Arab Sammys and John would also be possible I suppose, especially as a nickname. Dean in Arabic actually means “religion” (دين) and is a fairly common name among Arabs so that stays. Mary would probably be a nickname for Mariam but that is also possible. Sam and Dean both have John’s name as their middle name (culturally children of every gender have their father’s name as their middle name). John’s nickname is Bu Dean (father of Dean). So all this to say their names can stay the same but their last name probably has to change if they’re not gonna try to Anglicize anything.

3. This is also gonna be interesting with regards to both Sam and Dean’s characterizations and approach to religion. I’ve said before that the Winchester’s close attachment to family would culturally fit here. But if Islam was their main religious background, and with Sam “praying every day” this would look really different. He would probably pray five times a day, fast for Ramadan, give Zakat annually. I will assume he did Hajj during his Stanford years, as he became more religious there. He doesn’t drink at all and stays away from pork but might be a little more lax when it comes to halal meat in general. Maybe engage in pre marital sex if he convinces himself that he’s intending to marry them? Also allows the anti possession tattoo bc it’s for a good reason. Dean is a lot more lax and takes a similar approach as canon. With John I’m undecided bc he could be both ultra religious and not. I’m gonna lean towards a first gen immigrant who overcorrects and tries too hard to westernize, leading Sam to try to reconnect with his roots.

4. Aspects of mythos are also gonna be affected here (to be clear I’m speaking from a Sunni Muslim perspective). We’re gonna pare down on creatures and beings that are transplants from European cultures (vampires, werewolves, etc). Angels are still around, and in particular Gibreel (Gabriel) and Azrael, the angel of death. Demons are around as well. However angels and demons and especially God are gonna be much less...visible and perceptible to humans. Idk if we get any vessels even. There are also many many more jinn. 2x20 What Is and What Shall Never Be is very different bc jinn are actually done properly this time. Like there is so much that can be done with jinn! They live in a dimension on top of ours and the times they cross over into our universe is when we get to see them. They can possess others but are also able to be more complex than just pure evil like demons are. Imagine what could be done with that!

5. So what happens with the story? The inclusion of Islam gives some more interesting elements to the story we already have. For example, in Ramadan the devil is locked away (which gives us the cage!) for the entire month, with the idea being that any sins people commit at the time is fully on them and not temptations by the devil. I think this could be worked into the apocalypse storyline! Furthermore, the idea of free will vs destiny can be reworked through people’s books. Much like the death books in the show, the idea is ppl have angels on their shoulders writing down all their deeds in these books. God knows what your story will be but the idea is you are the one who makes all the decisions to get you there. So God won’t be the villain, maybe something like the devil wanting to take over? Or something to do with the books? Much to think about.

Give me an AU and I’ll give you five headcanons