#taking baby steps into being a real theater kid

[hilacopter]

so my irl best friend just showed me Heathers for the first time. what the hell happened exactly over the past two hours.

[fandomfluffandfuck]

Oh I'm sorry did I hear you're taking requests again? 🤭

Cute and fluffy high school Evanstan dating, please.

Imagine teenage Chris being all goofy yet charming and Sebastian's just smitten. He laughs at everything coming out of Chris' mouth. Then he's internally like "Jesus, calm down, you're being real desperate right now" but Chris is not thinking about that at all. Because he's so smitten with Sebastian himself, and he's like giving himself a pat on the shoulder in his mind, feeling real proud for being able to make someone actually laugh this much, and, it's Sebastian of all people too. But anyway, even though they're dating, they're still crushing real hard on each other, and try to hide the majority of it (and fail miserably, whether they realize that or not). But they're just so goddamn cute.

And then bonus point: imagine them marrying each other years later. They're each other's high school sweethearts. Aw maaan (in Anthony Mackie's voice)

Ugh, that doesn't count as anon's writing okay? That was a prompt. (Only If you're interested in it, of course) I would appreciate every single word you would write about this. Thank you!

This SO easily could be made much more fantastical and movie, a-la Not Another Teen Movie with jock Chris and popular boy Sebastian

But, just like you said, I love the thought of two dorky fucking theater kids giggling together and blushing so hard when their hands brush in the hallway or having awful all-tongue kisses before either of them knows how to kiss--it makes both of them cringe, it's so bad, but that's okay, they're bad together.

Too fucking sweet!

I can think of so many different scenarios for ✨them✨

When they're crushing hard on each other but have yet to admit it because Seb is a new student in Chris' school and they have yet to really meet--they've only seen each other's faces in the hall. Then, with butterflies, Sebastian always finds himself turning around sharply, spinning on his heel in a tight circle in the hallways. He would rather be caught dead than have to face his crush and stumble through an awkward conversation or get teased by his crush.

So, Seb practically runs through crowds of students to get away from Chris with that bright, shining smile and habit of making friends with anyone and everyone--jocks, theater kids, whoever. And because of Seb's bashfulness, Chris is convinced that that shy, sweet kid who doesn't talk so much in class because the other students make fun of his softened accent doesn't like him. Chris is a little heartbroken about it, too. He tells his older sister, Carly, and his Ma about it and they brush it off lovingly, surely, he's just shy and he'll come around, you'll have a class with him eventually and learn his name and talk to him. It'll work out.

It does work out.

After a first semester of evasion on Sebastian's part and hopeful intrigue on Chris', they end up in the same theater class together, same period, same teacher despite being in different years. Huh, Sebastian is a year younger than him. Chris didn't suspect that, but, hey, now the baby face makes more sense. Either way, suddenly, not only are they in the same class, now they're also playing silly theater games together, breaking the ice and laughing and bonding over the arts.

Chris learns, captivated by the other boy as he speaks, his voice soft and sweet with a lilt that flows over the syllables in a way that Chris has never heard before but is immediately obsessed with, that Sebastian is from Romania, lived in Germany for a short time, for an even shorter time was in New York City, and then came with his Mom (and probable, soon-to-be step-father) to Massachusetts. He's here. And, when Chris eggs him on and gets his mouth running, Chris also learns that for a while, Sebastian thought he should find a new name. An American name. He considered the name Chris.

Chris laughs because what are the odds? But he wishes he didn't because in an instant, Sebastian's smile dims and he grows quiet, unsure of his welcome. To apologize, Chris reaches out, setting his hand on his shoulder, and says so, "I'm sorry," he fumbles, "I just thought it was funny because then we'd have the same name. How funny would that be, dude? Hi, what's you're name? Chris. Oh, well, me too. Nice to meet you, Chris, I'm Chris." Chris finds his heart beating a little too fast, rambunctious as he does a voice for himself and for Sebastian, trying to cheer him up.

It works.

Sebastian laughs and, oh my god, Chris' whole world frickin' lights up. He's pretty sure he's in love. He's only ever felt so light and entranced the first time he saw a movie with Sandra Bullock or, god, Elisabeth Shue.

Keep it together, my guy, Chris shouts at himself in his head, his mind's eye suddenly awash with the incredibly uncool posters he has on his bedroom walls. A big, like, huge poster of Sandy and a smaller one of Elisabeth push a few run-of-the-mill posters of surfers and snowboarders that were too boyish for Carly to want out of her teen magazines. He needs to do something about those. He needs to be cooler. He needs Sebastian to like him. Ugh! not to mention the stuffed animals he still has. Some of them even sit on the side of his bed, their backs against the wall. He doesn't sleep with a teddy bear (technically), but they do sit there when he sleeps and sometimes he rolls over on top of them and crushes them in his sleep which makes him feel bad later even though he knows they can't feel it, they're not sentient, and--

Tighten up, c'mon, Chris urges himself, talking to himself in his head once more. He can't be spiraling out with this guy in front of him! He's trying to make conversation. He's trying to be cool.

Or... nevermind because their teacher interrupts any other chance of conversation with the next exercise.

After that first quick conversation, the boys are paired together more. Each time, they learn more about each other and, unbeknownst to the other, they hold tightly onto the information, willing themselves not to forget it so the next time they talk they don't stumble quite so hard.

Once, Chris is out with his Ma and siblings grocery shopping and he's interrupted in a not-so-serious argument with Scott about something that he can't even be bothered to remember when he hears--

"Uh, hi?"

Chris spins around and finds his face breaking into a surely dorky grin because Sebastian, it's Sebastian calling his name, unsure of himself, clearly, but confident enough to approach him and say hello and Chris might almost clobber him going in for a hug when Sebastian reaches for a handshake.

"Dude!" Chris says, pulling back to admire see his smile. He's wearing basketball shorts and a NASA sweatshirt, both bigger than he is, hanging off of him like hand-me-downs but Sebastian doesn't have any siblings so Chris wonders if they're his or his soon-to-be step-father's. Maybe. Maybe his mom still buys his clothes and insists that he can grow into them.

It's only when they're staring at each other, unsure of what to say, that Chris notices Sebastian's hair is wet and curling messily like he took a shower before spontaneously appearing in this grocery store on a Wednesday evening.

Sebastian is the one to break their silence, he also is the first one to get out of Chris' Evans'-typical-octopus-hold--what can he say, he's a hugger like his Ma--stepping back and going, "y'know, I don't think I'll ever get used to seeing so many bananas."

Chris is red.

Chris is thinking about bananas in a very, very inappropriate way. What could he possibly be talking about?

Sebastian, he notices, is turning red, too, but probably for very different reasons. Maybe. But he is definitely doing that thing he does when he's unsure of his place and his mouth is suddenly running away from him, talking about how in Romania and even to some extent in Vienna, there were never any bananas and little to no fresh fruit of any kind because of... of, y'know, he makes sure to look around before whispering communism.

Chris doesn't know much of anything about communism, just what they talked about in history with the Cold War so he just nods and tells Sebastian that he better buy a whole bunch then. Miracle of miracle, that makes Sebastian laugh. He confesses, turning his head and putting a hand over the side of his mouth so it's just the two of them--just Sebastian's warm breath on Chris' face, he's actually kind of sick of bananas now because of how many he ate when he first arrived in the U.S. Chris isn't sure if he's supposed to laugh or not, it doesn't seem super funny, it's a little more sad, but he laughs because Sebastian is telling him so theatrically that it must be a joke to him.

Sebastian gives him a secret smile, his hand still up to his mouth, and then scurries away to a disembodied voice just a few isles over, someone calling his name, heavily accented and musical, See-bass-tea-an. Chris lets it echo in his head and then tries it on his tongue, pronouncing the other's name the way it was intended, quiet, just to himself. See-bass-tea-an. That must be his Mom, calling for him, wondering where he wandered off to. And... right.

Yeah.

Chris should go back to his family, too, despite the stars circling his head like a cartoon character that's been hit with a mallet and is now wandering around in circles. Maybe it isn't love because Chris doesn't feel like this when he sees his favorite actresses on screen, this is... different. More intense. Definitely different. Maybe love. He stumbles back to Scott to half-heartedly, playfully shove him as the argument starts again.

They keep bumping into each other, talking in class but also in the hallways and at lunch. Sebastian starts sitting with Chris and his friends and it's great, the school year starts to fly by, until...

Everyone has been cast for the theatre department's third production of the year. Auditions are over, lines are being memorized, and rehearsals are underway. Chris was lucky enough to get the lead boy role and, on top of that luck, Sebastian was cast, too! So, now, they get to spend even more time together and it's great. Again, until...

The lead girl is out sick.

Nothing serious, just an unseasonal bout of the flu. It's nearly spring and it doesn't make sense but Chris would rather she stay home and rest rather than run herself into the ground before opening night is even here. Plus, this way, they don't have to practice kissing in rehearsals (which will never not be nerve-wracking) and Chris doesn't have to get sick himself, swapping spit. The only bad thing is that it means Chris is running lines by himself, making stupid, big gestures alone on stage (the teacher is running emergency runner-up auditions, just in case the lead girl misses more practice), pretending to grab a non-existent girl's waist and dip her to kiss her.

*Non-existent* and a *girl's waist* until someone shoves Sebastian out of the dark backstage where he had been waiting for his next cue as they do the run-through.

There he is, stumbling out into the light on colt-ish legs and suddenly Chris is bold enough, heart racing in his chest--encouraged by the voices of his Ma and sister and friends--to grab Sebastian and do the scene with him. Sebastian doesn't know his lines, and he's giggling because of it, but it doesn't matter. He's watched Chris do it enough to know when to react and how to move, swaying with him, gasping when he needs to. And Chris, just, does it.

Chris kisses Sebastian.

In the middle of the stage, standing in a blinding, sweltering spotlight, just as himself and not as his character, Chris kisses Sebastian's soft lips and, holy fuck, Sebastian is kissing him back.

Chris doesn't know what to do. He didn't think this far. He... he dips Sebastian like he was supposed to dip the girl but he doesn't kiss him as he dips him, feeling Sebastian scramble to hold onto him, afraid of falling. Instead, Chris whispers, their lips still brushing, "there's a spring dance in a few weeks, would you come with me?"

Sebastian's eyes flutter open and stretch wide, processing his question. Chris has never seen such a pretty, glittering color as what's entrapped in his eyes--they're blue, grey, almost green in the stage lighting. Absolutely mesmerizing.

His fingers dig tighter into his shoulders as Chris lifts them both back up to standing, "r-really?" Sebastian asks, his voice soft. The words are just for them. Not the characters they're playing. "Like, as your date? Not just because we're friends?"

Chris nods, confirming, "as a date."

Sebastian's verifiably soft lips split into a dazzling grin, kittenish and heart-stopping, "okay."

"Okay," Chris echoes, stuck in the magic of the moment. This feels like a movie, standing center stage where the boy gets the g--boy.

The boy gets the boy.

"Gentleman," their teacher claps her hands together once from the auditorium seating, shocking them both, leaving them to slide apart, a scant few inches between them, "that's enough goofing around." She twirls her finger in a circle, her voice gentle but without room for argument, "let's run it from the top."

Before Seb is whisked off the stage by a few of their mutual friends laughing and mostly quietly hollering, oooohing like middle schoolers rather than the high schoolers they are, he shoots Chris another one of those secret smiles and, god, Chris has forgotten every single one of his lines.

Do NOT get me started on the sheer amount of teasing that would happen if they did get married eventually, or just were long, long-term boyfriends and then were in Marvel and met Mackie. The jokes. Too much. I would love that.

[filthyfluffyfantasies]

✧ ˚ 　· 　　 . DL;DR - this fic is not meant for anyone under the age of 18 as it contains the following: unprotected p in v, teasing, oral sex, use of petnames for reader/you, breeding k!nk related dirty talk, semi public foreplay, marking, oral sex. writer does not give permission for her works to be reposted, with or without permission. ✧ ˚ 　· 　　 .

prompt thirteen - creampie / breeding kink

character | fandom - rockstar!eddie munson | stranger things

reader | original character - female reader, groupie turned girlfriend & non -or vague, description.

words - roughly 4.4k

tagging -< taglist here >

✧ ˚ 　· 　　 . you and Eddie have reconnected after the one night stand that brought you together years before. bonding with his daughter has made him realize just how much he wants to be a father and he can't think of anybody else he wants to have his kids.. ✧ ˚ 　· 　　 .

Hawkins, Indiana, December 1996

You smile softly to yourself as you pause in the door to Rosie’s bedroom to find Eddie seated on the floor, Rosie seated between his legs as Eddie tries -and fails, at French-braiding her hair, the landline phone cradled between his neck and shoulder.

❝ I’m doing that, Emerson. It’s not workin. Hold on..❞ he turns his attention back to Rosie’s braid and swears to himself as he shakes his head. It’s crooked again and he was trying so hard to get it just right for her. He laughs as he starts to talk to Gareth again, ❝I was trying to braid Rosie’s hair for her. Can’t get it right. Poor kid has my hair, man. It’s too fuckin thick t’ do anything with.❞ Eddie’s statement is enough to make you giggle softly as you step into the room. 

Eddie’s face lights up and he ends the call with Gareth, pulling himself off the floor to make his way over to you. Rosie is squeezing your legs, talking non-stop about how she spent the whole day with daddy and he taught her how to play some game called Dungeons and Dragons.

Eddie chuckles, scooping up the 5 year old as he gives her a peck on her freckled nose. ❝ Your ma was a nerd, sweetheart, she doesn’t know what that is.❞ -and he’s teasing, you know it. You pout a little and give his chest a light smack. Then you smirk. ❝ Since you think I’m so nerdy, Munson..❞ you dig around in the pocket of your leather jacket -his leather jacket, and find the tickets you stopped by the theater in town to pick up, ❝ Then I guess that means you don’t wanna go see Scream with me and the baby bat..❞

❝ Daaaaddy, you hafta say yes. I’ve been waitin a thousand years t’ see it. Please?❞ your daughter is looking up at Eddie, giving him those big begging eyes. Eddie pretends to think it over, both of you know damn well he’d never turn down a horror movie or your daughter’s begging.

❝ Are we sure she should see this, sweetheart?❞ Eddie’s just being a shit now, you laugh softly and Eddie rubs his chin as he continues, ❝ I mean.. This is Wes Craven. It’s gonna be a blood bath.❞

You laugh. ❝ Yeah but it’s also not real. Our daughter’s smart, she knows that.❞ you step up into Eddie a little more, your hand finding purchase in the front of his old Hellfire t-shirt. He’s distracted, staring down at your hand. You clear your throat, ❝ I bumped into Nancy earlier… Apparently, Will is taking both of Rosie’s best friends to see it.. With Mike.❞

Rosie’s really begging now.

Eddie pouts and pretends to be upset. ❝ I thought we talked about this, sweetheart. You were gonna marry daddy, remember? Now you wanna go see a movie with those dumb boys?❞ but Rosie is insisting. She pretends to gag when Eddie mentions the fact that she may or may not have just a little crush on little Johnny Byers or Argie, his best friend.

❝ Eww, daddy! I really meant it, they’re my friends. And if I don’t see it now, Argie’s a blab. He’s just gonna spoil th’ endin.. Pretty please? With cherries an’ chocolate?❞

Eddie snickers. ❝ Yeah, that tracks for him. Okay, alright.. What are we waiting on, huh? Let’s go see Scream.❞

As Rosie runs off to find her favorite jeans and change, you melt against Eddie and wrap your arms around his neck, your lips crashing against his in a long and deep kiss. His hands wander,settling on your ass.

❝ Dungeons and Dragons, babe?❞ you pout at him just a little when the kiss breaks a few seconds later. You’re honestly not upset, you’re just teasing him a little. Watching them together always makes you happy but lately.. Lately, watching him with Rosie has your biological clock ticking all over again. And earlier, when you were talking to one of the girls at work, she mentioned the fact that she thought she might be pregnant. And naturally, that got you daydreaming about another little mini Eddie running around. It made you stop and think too.

Everyone is always asking when you and Eddie will have more -and you do want another kid but honestly, you’ve been afraid to bring up the subject because things are still so new. The two of you only just reconnected. And there were definitely more than a few hiccups, - considering that you had no way to tell him about Rosie until last year, when your paths crossed again for the first time since 1988- and you’re just trying to enjoy everything the way it is.

Besides, you think to yourself as you hug against Eddie and breathe in the scent of his cologne and the faintest hint of those cheap cigarettes he still smokes, what if Eddie doesn’t want another? Am I really willing to mess up everything between the two of you? I’m in love with him and I just found him, I just got him back..

Eddie pulls away to look down at you and snickers at the dazed look on your face as he gets you looking up at him. ❝ What’s got you so spaced out, huh?❞ 

He doesn’t say it but.. He hopes that maybe it’s the same thing he’s spent a lot of time thinking about lately. At first, he thought it was regret, longing to see what he missed out on when you were carrying Rosie. But then, while you were snuggled up in the bed reading The Shining to her, as he stood in the doorway watching the two of you, it hit him like a ton of bricks.

He wants more kids. He wants you to be their mom. He wants a big family and he doesn’t want Rosie to be an only child like he grew up. He wants her to have the actual younger siblings that he formed Hellfire specifically to find for himself back in high school.

The problem is, he’s afraid that bringing it up now, that’s going to be too soon. And he’s driving himself crazy over it because the harder he tries not to bring it up, the more he almost does.

He almost blurted it out this morning over breakfast. Twice.

You’re the one laughing now, cupping his stubble lined jaw to get him looking down at you. You’re biting your lip as you stare up at him. Every cell in your body is dying to say something, to bring up the subject and see how he takes it but you’re also a little scared. 

❝ N-nothing.. I wasn’t the only one spaced out, Munson.❞ you mumble, swallowing hard as you melt into him just a little more. ❝ Where were you at just now, hm?❞ you’re turning the whole thing around on him because you know if you don’t, you will blurt it out.

He chuckles, a ringed hand caressing your face before kissing your forehead. ❝ You’re spacing me out, woman.. If we’re gonna go see this movie..❞ he drops his voice to a husky whisper, ❝ you might want t’ go get ready.. Before I change my mind and take you to bed..❞

You whimper quietly as he drags his tongue around the shell of your ear. Reluctantly, you pry yourself off of him and make your way down into the bedroom you’re both sharing to change.

Eddie takes several shaky breaths and leans against the wall. ❝ Emerson doesn’t know what he’s talkin about. It’s not like I can just blurt out the fact that I wanna knock her up, that I think she’s even more sexy when she’s pregnant and I wanna have more kids, there’s a time and place t’ say that shit..❞

Laughter from the doorway of Rosie’s bedroom has Eddie wanting to disappear into the floor. Rosie’s looking up at him, big doe eyes shining in mischief. She pushes the door closed behind her quietly.

Eddie tries to act as if she probably didn’t just hear every single word he said. ❝ You uh.. We all ready now, baby bat?❞

Rosie nods. After a little digging, she finds the pair of Vans she’s currently always wearing, red and black. She holds them out to Eddie. Eddie goes down on one knee, slipping the shoes onto her feet, pretending that they’re a glass slipper, making a fuss when the shoe fits her foot perfectly. She throws her arms around his neck and he breathes in the sweet and clean smell of his little girl. Every time he thinks he can’t possibly love her more, he’s proven wrong.

Even when she’s being every bit as hard-headed as he is.

The hug breaks and Rosie giggles. ❝ I wished for a little brother on my birthday candle… Remember when you were askin me what I wished for?❞ Rosie goes quiet. She’s fiddling with the sleeve edges on her favorite black longsleeve. It’s a Corroded Coffin shirt from the last music festival Eddie tagged you and Rosie along to before Corroded Coffin finally declared they were done, they were retiring to go out on a high note.

Eddie lightly grips his little girl’s jaw. ❝ You did, huh?❞ he asks. Rosie nods quietly. Drops her gaze and shuffles her feet against the bedroom floor. ❝ It’s just.. I’m glad you’re my daddy and I love mama but.. I don’t have anybody t’ play with when Argie and Johnny are being stupid.❞

Eddie nods. Fluffing at his daughter’s hair as he chuckles. ❝ Well, it was a birthday wish. Those do have a lotta power, baby bat.❞ 

Rosie smiles and throws her arms around him again, you step into the room just in time to watch the little moment. To have overheard the little conversation between father and daughter. Eddie’s reaction was so vague that you’re not sure whether it’s a good idea to tell him Rosie isn’t the only one who wants Rosie to have a baby brother or sister.. You study the two for a few seconds and laugh. ❝ Okay, you two conspiring against me already?❞ you joke and Eddie smirks. ❝ Maybe we were, babe.❞

❝ I’m gonna go play with my Legos in th’ living  room. Can I watch MTV?❞ Rosie asks. Both of you nod and Rosie goes into the living room to play. This leaves you both alone together in some thick tension.

At first, neither of you seems willing to shatter it. But Eddie can’t take it a second longer and this results in him, exploding in a passionate rant as he paces the bedroom until you think he’ll pace a hole right through the floor.

You choke on air when you hear him say that while he thinks you’re sexy, he thinks you’d be even sexier if he knocked you up but then he throws up his hands and swears in frustration because he didn’t mean for that to be the first thing he blurted out in regards to having another kid, wanting a small army of kids with you. You’re stunned. Jaw dropped, eyes wide as you watch him have his little rant and stay quiet because you’re still frantically trying to process.

❝ And I just… I never thought me, I.. Eddie Munson, would be sayin this shit. T’ anybody. Ever. But damn it,❞ Eddie trails off, going quiet as he takes a few deep breaths, ❝ I can’t even look at you lately without imagining you pregnant. All our kids rushing around the house, chaos every morning.. I want this and if you don’t..❞ but you cut off his words by climbing into his lap as you cup his face with both hands and kiss him until you feel his mind starting to quiet down, his hands roaming all over your body. When he squeezes your ass and rocks you right over the way he’s strained almost painfully against the faded jeans he’s wearing, you whine against the shell of his ear, ❝ You’re not playing very fair right now, Eddie..❞ and he just chuckles. You lean into his ear, melting against him as you mutter softly, ❝ I want all of that too.. You were saying you want to fuck a baby into me later, I didn’t hear you wrong.. Right?❞

He growls quietly. Groaning as you bare down against the way his cock is hard enough to push against the zipper of his jeans. He nips at your neck roughly and his hands settle on your ass, squeezing. He’s guiding you back and forth over his lap and you whine, nipping at  the way the tip of his spider tattoo just barely peeks out over the neckline of his t-shirt. ❝ That feel like a misunderstandin’, sweetheart?❞ he asks quietly as he stares up at you. You bite your lip and whine, the friction you were getting has slowed down drastically and you want it back. You’re desperate to get it back.

❝ How soon?❞ he asks a few seconds later. Your hand fists the front of his shirt and you pull him against you, your mouth just barely grazing against his as you laugh softly. ❝ Tonight. I.. I wanna start trying tonight.❞

❝Fuck.❞ he groans out as you rock yourself against the way he’s strained at his jeans all over again. His breath catches in his throat and he grabs your ass roughly just to slow you down because if he doesn’t, he’s going to make a mess of himself right here, right now. He leans into you and nips at your neck after he’s nosed some hair out of his way. ❝ It’s a date, sweetheart. Think you’ll be able t’ keep your hands off me ‘til then?❞ and the gleam in his eye tells you that this is a challenge.

That you’re in for it, Eddie is going to do everything in his power to make you cave…

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ ･ ｡ﾟ ───

It’s just getting to the part where Billy’s about to reveal the truth to Sidney when you feel the cool metal of Eddie’s rings against the inside of your thigh. You can feel your entire body as it heats up. You shoot him a little pout and some side-eye, but he smirks. Slips his hand off your thigh to grab himself some popcorn after he mumbles ❝The bucket is in your lap, woman.. You expect me to control myself?❞ and pouts right back.

Rosie is sitting in the row right in front of you both with her friends, their eyes glued to the screen, a hand paused midway to her mouth to take a bite of popcorn she hasn’t taken in over three minutes. 

Eddie’s hand creeps higher, a finger dragging ever-so-slowly right up your center. He chuckles when you squirm and shift around just a little in your seat. As his finger drags over you again, your legs clamp together, holding his hand between your thighs. 

Your ears feel like they’re on fire. Eddie bites his lip when the two of you lock eyes, two long fingers pushing the soaked fabric to the side as they make contact with your bare cunt. You shiver before you can stop yourself. Shoot Eddie a dirty look and nod to an usher that’s just wandered in, flashlight in hand.

Eddie leans into you, breath warm against the shell of your ear as he whispers quietly, ❝Fuck.❞ breathing heavily as he raises the fingers he just had buried in your dripping cunt to his lips, licking them clean as he holds your gaze. You bite back a whine and he leans back into you, whispering quietly, ❝I can’t fuckin wait to fill up your pretty little pussy when we get back home, babe..❞ as he grabs your wrist and guides your hand to his lap, letting you palm at the way he’s strained through his jeans. You bite back another whine, helpless.

❝Eddie.❞ you whine, helpless. Soaked through in seconds. He chuckles. Your hand ghosts over the bulge strained against black jeans and he bites his bottom lip. Both of you glance at the seat in front of you to make sure Rosie is okay. She’s arguing with Argie in a hushed tone about who the killer is, throwing her hand in his face when he insists a second time that it has to be Randy. She thinks it’s Billy, Sidney Prescott’s boyfriend.

After you’ve made sure Rosie isn’t too scared, Eddie turns his attention back to teasing you. Bucking himself up into you as you continue to clumsily palm at the bulge in his jeans. His head falls back against the seat and he bites back the urge to groan as you drag a finger over the zipper of his jeans slowly. He leans into you to whisper ❝Fuck, sweetheart.. All this teasin me is only gonna get you in real trouble.❞ against the shell of your ear. You lean into him to mumble back quietly, ❝Oh? Maybe I like the  sound of that, Eddie. Maybe that’s what I want.❞

The movie is coming to an end. Rosie’s triumphant outburst from the seat in front of you when the killers reveal themselves -and Johnny Byers arguing with Argie about her being right all along, is accompanied by snickering from Will, Mike and Jane. As the lights begin to come on, you pout a little to yourself but you pull your hand away from Eddie’s lap. You don’t even mind that you both missed huge parts of the movie, your heart is racing  as the two of you file out of your row and wait by the door leading out of the theater room for Rosie and her friends to come out so the two of you can take Rosie home.

❝Can’t wait to get you home, sweetheart.❞ Eddie laughs quietly as he scoops up Rosie when she starts to yawn and then slips his other arm around your shoulder, pulling you into his side closer. You look up at him and bite your lip suggestively, squeaking just a little when Eddie’s hand wanders down, giving your ass a little squeeze.

As Rosie drifts off to sleep in the backseat of your car, Eddie takes a hand off the steering wheel and skims it right up the inside of your thighs, growling before he can stop himself when he feels just how much slicker your thighs have gotten. You slip your hand into his lap and he bucks against it as you palm at the way he’s hard enough to break through his jeans and only getting harder. You’re five minutes away from home but it might as well be five thousand years and it feels like the drive is only getting longer.

Eddie’s fingers brush past the soaked barrier of your panties and bury inside of you and you give the inside of his thigh a squeeze as you just barely gasp. ❝Almost time, sweetheart..❞ he chuckles quietly as he turns down the street you live on..

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ ･ ｡ﾟ ───

You’ve both just finished tucking Rosie into bed. Eddie turns on Rosie’s Scooby Doo nightlight and tucks her favorite stuffed animal into bed with her. As the two of you step out into the hallway, your back meets the closed door with a soft thud as Eddie’s restraint vanishes in a split second. His hands are all over you, finally settling on your ass as he lifts you up. You wrap your legs around him and he rocks himself into you, making you whine.

❝Ready for bed, sweetheart?❞ he asks the question in a breathy whisper as he nips his way down your neck. You whimper and rub yourself against him, needy. His mouth finds yours as he carries you down the hallway, navigating forgotten toys, a box or two from his old apartment in California and other obstacles that crowd the hallway with ease. He kicks the bedroom door open carefully and steps inside with you. Clothing that litters the top of the dresser is swept off and he sits you down in the space he’s just made, eyes gleaming as the kiss breaks, a strand of saliva between your mouths keeping you connected. You’re rocking against him and moaning out his name, shaky hands tugging the old Hellfire t-shirt up over his head as he strips off your crop top and slips his finger beneath the back of your bra, unhooking the clasps with ease and speed. 

The clothing settles in a pile on the floor and he leans into you, pushing you up against the wall behind the dresser, his mouth moving down your body. He pauses at your belly button to stare up at you, tugging down your panties. You reach out and work the jeans and boxers he’s wearing down and he steps out of them, kicking them to the side. That cute little denim mini skirt you’ve been wearing is pushed up to your hips as Eddie gets caught up in the moment and decides that he can’t wait another second, he has to taste you now. He sinks down in front of you, your legs settling over his shoulder as his mouth moves up the soft dough of your thighs, licking clean the mess he’s made. Your hands tug at his hair and grip the edge of the dresser as he pushes your legs apart a little better and buries his tongue and three fingers inside your drippy cunt. Groaning as the taste of you fills his mouth. ❝C’mon, princess.. Pull harder.❞ he moans out against your sex, fingers pumping into you as his tongue swirls. You rock yourself towards his mouth and he chuckles. ❝Thatta girl.. Gettin’ nice and wet for me..❞

You can feel your orgasm building, prepared to wreck you and you tug his hair a little harder. Eddie pauses and you pout. He stares up at the way you’re about to come completely apart for him and bites his lip, ❝You’re gonna be so fuckin cute all knocked up, princess.❞ he mutters quietly and you whine, begging for him. ❝Eddie,❞ you plead, ❝I-I.. I need you now.❞

❝Not until you give me what y’ know I want, princess.❞ Eddie’s permission to get off needs no further explanation and your orgasm rips through you, soaking his tongue and fingers as he growls quietly, the taste of you filling his mouth. He raises up again, his mouth conquering your mouth as he ruts into you while scooping you off the dresser to toss you gently onto the bed. He follows suit, your bodies tangled.

Touching. Biting. Kissing. He’s marked you up, hickies and bite marks litter your skin from neck to cunt, there are even a few sore bruises lining up the inside of your thighs. 

He lines his cock up with your throbbing cunt, dragging the head down your center. When you shiver because it feels so good, he chuckles against your ear. ❝I’m gonna fuck a baby into you, sweetheart. You gonna be a good girl and take it f’ me?❞ his voice is sex, gravel and velvet all in one as he asks the question. It’s so different than the sweet things he usually says that you’re whimpering, begging him to do it, to take you already. 

He thrusts into you slow. It’s an agonizing pace and you can feel every single inch, every vein that runs through his thick cock as he pushes into you. His hips beat against yours hard enough to bruise and he’s got you caged in beneath his body, his mouth all over you. You meet every one of his thrusts eagerly and when he comes to a stop, you whine about it.

❝You feel so fuckin good, sweetheart. Your pussy clenches around me so fuckin tight.❞ Eddie growls out, ❝Can’t wait t’ fill you up.❞ as he fucks into you slower. At one point, he has to reach out an arm and push the headboard against the wall so it’ll stop banging at it. But the way you squeeze him feels so good and you’re so wet that a minute or two later, he’s fucking at you faster and he’s used his grip on your hip for leverage, angling your hips upward just a little, bottoming out. You’re seeing stars as another orgasm builds, stopped at the brink every single time Eddie feels you tense and dig your nails in his back. 

❝Fuck, princess. –ah shit, I can’t..❞ he groans out against your neck, ❝I’m gonna cum, shit. You feel too good, sweetheart.❞ and you whine, begging for it. It’s so hot that Eddie’s thrusts speed up, fucking into you faster and deeper, hips stammering as his orgasm shatters through and biting at your neck as this prompts you to pull him even deeper inside by wrapping your legs around his waist. His forehead finds your own as his thrusts slow down and he presses soft little kisses against your mouth and cheeks. ❝I love you.❞ is said in unison, the two of you laughing softly in the dark about it because if there’s one thing you’re both good at it’s doing everything perfectly right BUT.. completely backwards.

Eddie’s still fucking into you, slow and steady. ❝Don’t wanna stop, princess. Your pussy feels sooo fucking good wrapped around my cock.❞

When he’s finally finished fucking the seed that leaked out back into you, he rolls the two of you so that you’re on top. You’re both yawning now, sleepy kisses are landing against each other’s skin as he removes one of his hands from your ass to cup your cheek, dragging his thumb across. ❝Wanna go t’ sleep just like this.❞

❝Me too, baby. I love the way you feel inside me.❞ you drawl, sleep making you stumble over words, making your voice all dreamy as the two of you drift off…

[muskywolfthings]

Open House

((A quick drabble I've been working on the last few days- it's not much, but I LOVED writing it, and it's helped me get back into a little bit of a flow- hope you guys enjoy! No real smut ahead, but lots of fluffy daddy sterek feels))

Open Houses had always been a breeze for Stiles and Derek. Eli was a model student, even when he was taking after Stiles a little /too/ much- brain to mouth filter dwindling as he got older, and came into his personality more. Stiles usually steamrolled through most of their interactions, Derek a comforting presence over his shoulder agreeing with his husband’s stance on everything- even after all their years together, Stiles was still very much the center point in their household. A very loud, sometimes obnoxious, and sarcastic center, but he wouldn’t have been both his husband, and his son's anchor if he wasn’t good at his job. One of his jobs, that is. But Eli was starting High School in less than a week, and both Stiles and Derek were panicking. Just a bit. Derek more so than Stiles, which he blamed on Eli’s wolf becoming harder to control as he reached the more intense throes of puberty- but Stiles knew better. His husband was one big gigantic softie, and he couldn’t fathom that their baby boy was growing up. Much too fast for either of their likings.

High school was such a milestone! It was huge! It’s when Eli would start thinking about college, /really/ thinking about girls- “And guys! I take after my pops, equal opportunity all the way” Eli would boast with a grin- parties, experimenting in all aspects. His academic workload was going to double, given his advanced classes, more hectic schedule- juggling lacrosse in the fall, basketball in the spring, band and theater, Eli had a full plate.

Stiles always made it clear to him though, that while high school was a formative time in his life- it wasn’t where things ended. It was a blast, it was hard, sometimes he’d wish he never had to go back, and some days he’d wish he could create a time loop in freshman year and never escape it. But they were a pack, a family. Eli would have one of the best support systems for the entirety of his existence. Stiles and Derek weren’t just going to throw him to the metaphorical wolves once he graduated.

He was their baby. He would always be their baby, which came with certain ups and downs. One of the ups though, being he’d always have someone there to help him. Especially once he was out of high school, and things got scarier- more real. Which, Stiles thought at least, made Eli more excited, and less prone to fears of the future, as he stood in front of his fathers in front of the school- Stiles holding onto his arm with a smile, and Derek keeping one firm hand on Eli’s shoulder as they entered Beacon Hills High School.

And boy, what a nostalgia trip it was.

Stiles and Derek hadn’t stepped foot in those halls since before Eli was born- and it wasn’t lost on either of them how bittersweet it was to do so.

“Please don’t cry dad,” Eli whined, glancing over his shoulder at Stiles, who sniffled once, before squaring his shoulders and nodding stiffly. Derek chuffing a laugh under his breath, and leaning down to press a gentle kiss to Stiles’ neck. “Leave your father alone, he’s reminiscing about the day’s he used to be shoved into these lockers.” Derek teased, smiling brightly as Stiles balked, and tried to slap him over his shoulder- Derek catching his hand easily, and kissing along each knuckle. A warm blush took over Stiles’ cheeks as he did so, and Eli gagged.

“You’re gonna give these kids reason to ridicule me for literally the rest of my life,” Eli sighed, miming shooting himself square between the eyes- Derek rolling his eyes at his sons dramatics, even as Stiles reached forward to pinch his cheeks and coo at the boy- just as a group of girls breezed past, giggling to themselves as Eli fought his father back, horrified.

There was a brief assembly in the gym, where each teacher introduced themselves in front of the room full of students and their guardians- their names, their subject, and the grades they taught. The students were free to accompany their parents to meet each of their teachers, but they were encouraged to mingle, and hang out in the gymnasium, and out on the lacrosse field where there were concessions set up, while the teachers and guardians mingled about the school.

As soon as they were dismissed to go about the rest of the evening, Eli booked it outside- assuring his dads he’d stay out of trouble, and introduce himself to his teachers before the evening ended. Which left Stiles and Derek, Eli’s schedule in hand, to start their own rounds.

Given Eli’s regular course load, and extracurriculars, it meant they couldn’t linger too long in what classroom. Their son being a social butterfly was quite draining. Now Stiles knew how his dad felt- though he supposed in some respects this was better: at least meeting Eli’s coach wasn’t moot, he wouldn’t be a benchwarmer like Stiles. Thank god.

The first two teachers they met were a breeze- Stiles did most of the talking, Derek humming his approval of teaching plans, and nodding where he saw fit. Derek had never been very verbose, even as a teenager, and it was moments like these he appreciated his husbands ability to pull words seemingly out of his ass.

It wasn’t till they met with the band instructor- a man in his mid twenties, that Derek became even more quiet. His arm found its way around Stiles’ shoulder, as he went on about how badly he wanted to play the trumpet as a child- laughing openly, unaware of the other man’s gaze sliding over his body. Right. In front. Of Derek.

Derek wouldn’t necessarily call himself possessive (Stiles would, Stiles absolutely would) and don’t get him wrong! His husband's charm and physical attraction wasn’t lost on him in the slightest.

But that’s the thing. It was /his/ He belonged to Derek.

Kind of.

Not in a property sort of way! But like…sort of.

Derek also knew there wasn’t much he could do about it- he could scent and sense things about people that he wasn’t technically supposed to. His face twisted up in slight disgust at the wave of arousal that poured off of the man in front of them- a cloud of it cloaking itself over he and Stiles the longer they chatted.

Derek was quick to grumble about how they needed to keep it moving, and he corralled Stiles out of the band hall and towards their next class- all too aware suddenly of all the looks they were getting.

Derek was never blind to his own physical appearance, but almost none of the attention pointing their direction, was pointed towards himself. Sure, the occasional couple would take them both in appreciatively- but as soon as Stiles opened his mouth, everyone’s eyes gravitated towards him. He was warm, and kind- handsome, and loved his husband and son. Derek supposed that was reason enough to drop everyone’s panties.

Derek got increasingly more handsy as the night wore on, and by the time they were making their way to coach Finstock’s office for a quick hello- Derek couldn’t take it anymore.

“Where are we going?” Stiles asked quietly, rubbing his thumb over Derek’s knuckles where they held hands- Derek skirting them through the halls of parents and students- ducking into an empty classroom before they could be seen, and pressing Stiles up against the door. Mouth immediately on his pulse point, hands finding their way up and under his sweater.

“Derek!” Stiles hissed, glancing over his shoulder, into the almost empty hallway outside though the small window at the top of the door- biting his lip as Derek growled against his throat- hot tongue sliding across his throat, before Derek bit down gently, positively purring as Stiles gasped- the spicy scent of his mates arousal cloaking Derek entirely- filling the small classroom completely with their combined scents.

Derek fucking loved it.

“This is so not professional, Eli’s gonna know what we were doing! Do you want to scar our child, Der?” Stiles pouted- though one of his hands was already in Derek’s jeans- cupping his ass, while his other tugged at the hair at the nape of Derek’s neck gently- scratching just where he knew his wolf loved. If Derek had a tail, it would be wagging like crazy.

“We don’t have to do anything,” Derek assured him quietly, nibbling just below Stiles’ ear, sucking a light red mark there for good measure after. “-I just needed to get my hands on you. And my mouth..and my-” “Yes! Yes that’s very clear, you dick,” Stiles interrupted quickly, grinding up and against Derek softly- mouth falling open on a quiet gasp at how hard Derek was. What was even happening.

“Remember when we used to sneak in here?” Derek prompted quietly, voice deep, and husky- dripping with so much lust he was threatening to drown Stiles in it. “You’ve been such a bad boy, Mr Stilinski,” Derek purred, Stiles’ mind thrust back to when he was nineteen, and a lot more willing to risk public indecency charges- Derek bending him over desks, benches in the locker room- even tables in the cafeteria, after hours when they’d snuck in. It was so bad, so wrong, but so, so, hot.

“I love you so much.” Stiles laughed, kissing down Derek’s cheek, and sliding one of his palms along the hot ;length of his husband's cock through his jeans. “As much as I want to swallow your cock, right here, in this classroom,” Stiles began, rubbing circles in the fat heft of Derek’s balls through the denim, “-we need to go see Finstock, and then make sure Eli talked to his teachers. Then maybe see if he still wants to spend the night at Jake’s.” Derek nodded stiffly, and while he was no young man anymore, not really, he was so close to cumming in his jeans it wasn’t even funny.

Fuck. “I love you too,” Derek breathed, nosing along Stiles hairline, before snapping his fangs at the man playfully- practically beaming when Stiles laughed- loud and happy, music to Derek’s ears, as they composed themselves enough to head back out into the school. Hands interlocked, a promise of a wild evening hanging between the two of them.

[thekydsarealright]

★

I wanna be your city, I wanna be on your Mars. I wanna be your Venus, I already am your star. Am I?

I just… wanna be your forever, OD.

I wanna be in your city. I wanna be your transportation, I wanna be some place you can go out to and eat. I wanna be your amusement park. I’ll give you free tickets to get on my ride. Your protection. I want to be your homeland security, I can secretly service you if you wanna offend me. I wanna be your gun with the safety on so that I can get jammed in ya life instead of the bullet that always goes off. But if you want me to go, give me time. Bullet time like Max Payne. I’ll teach you how I taught me to do these tricks because, because, because, welcome to the Matrix. Play with me, play with me, play with me. Play Russian Roulette on me; one shot, boom, I’mma take a hit; I will be your safety. I’m so irresponsible, baby. Can we learn what real responsibility means, just let go and fly free? Even if it means scratch the Cavache. I want to be your bomb shelter. ATM, I want to be your bank when you lose your wallet or when you lose yo green I will water your plant if you a leaf. I want to be your pharmacy, instead of nightlock, this shit is no game to make you go hungry, farm me I’m no better than a berry; I’ll be the sweetener to your blood, I’ll intercept your system instantly, intravenously. I want to be your café, your coffee, your clinic, when you sick of it, your mall, your subway, your train, your expressway; expressing on the express, your emergency room, your circus, your… theater, your play, your entertainment. I want to be your college, ya whole career and desires in life. Are you into business? Do you have one already? Can I be your company? Maybe we should purchase some, ought to invest. Expand this expertise and build our repertoire. I’m a branch, I’m already a nest. I want to be your gym, I want to be your trip. I’m trippin. I take trips too much. I trip too much. This trip is so long. I hate being on planes. I hate the pressure in my cabin. I care too much. But I can be my own palace, my own sanctuary, my castle, my home. You could be the key, no lease. Not for sale. Release… me. I wanna be. I’m a patient but I’m so impatient, I want to be your patience. You see mine. I see it too. Can we trade patients, doctor? Doctor? The world is in your care… treat them well, but can I climb your clipboard? Treat my trust, doctor. I need to perform a procedure, not a performance, a real physical has never been a rehearsal. No, this is urgent. I need to pick your brain, may I have your written consent to be your private surgeon? You know I hate it, but come outside and let’s play Operation. I want to be your backyard. Your bouncy castle. Happy birthday. Bring your inflatables. I want to be your front lawn while family and friends in Compton is over and cars are blocking my path from seeing to the house across the street. Blocking what they be thinking. I want to be your car, fill your tank. You must be unlimited because to me you premium even when you unleaded. I want to be your forest; find you by the lake. I want to be your forest. I want to be your window. I want to be... your roof; the flight of stairs that run underneath. But if not, I pray you don’t move and only change so you can catch me next time… maybe on the fire balcony escape across waving stupid to you. Slower than an escalator, but don't escalate. Steps carry you. Just take them. Show up. I wanna be where nobody know you at. Don't I wanna be your mystery. Can I be your people? And can we be the people? Can we save these kids? Show these cats and cubs how shit is done so they can show us back and not turn they backs. End of the day, the day gon’ end. Hyenas, we each must crack one and laugh.

My girl, my girl. Baby girl, will you be my girl? Do you wanna be?

Can I be your music? Your music library? Your visualizer: 2001 edition? iTunes 1. The first iPod. 1,000 songs in your pocket. I want to be your Steve Jobs, but I’m just Steve, man.

I’m just Stevie. But I wish I wrote I Wish, As, Superstition... I wish I could write Songs In The Key of Life. I wish I was one of the writers... for That Girl. But I can’t even sing. I cannot sing off my dome for shit. And I know. I only know how to sing using my heart. Will you listen for my heartbeat? Do I have a pulse, and is it in your hands? I don't care enough to know that it's risky, but here is my heart on a sleeve. I have sleeve tattoos. We have sleeves. You won’t draw one on me, I won’t tattwo on you. Can you imagine?

Go on, tell her what your name is... it's okay. she's okay. he's okay. you're okay. them niggas gon be okay and you know that bro Oh, will you relax, already?! YOU DOING TOO MUCH! i will be okay.

My name is Stephen.

My name is Stephen René Takahashi, and I wanna be your dictionary. You can take a page out of my book anytime. I want you to read me out loud and hear, feel, my words. I want you to cut every syllable like you cutting yourself a slice. In fact, you can take me. Just be sure to put me back where you found me. Just be sure to write me in. Just be sure to take care of my spine. I have been read many times, but never by myself… I am so worn. I feel I have had pages stolen out of me. Sometimes I feel so light. Because I'm so high. But without me putting on wings, you pick me up and you read me a story that reminds me that I am not so broken. In fact, I am not broken at all. I am full of taste like a seeded fruit, grown and tended to through the farms belonging to ancestors. Often left to fend alone for myself in the sun, the rain, though never was I tended to be alone. You read my words to yourself as you stand before the bathroom mirror, gripping the top of your new book to steer my pages forward. If you make a wrong turn somewhere, just do a U-Turn. You’ll end right back where you already were to be. I guess you wanna get in my head. You hold my spine perfectly. You slot me in like a coin into the library when you’ve finished the book. How did you finish that book that fast? You never even left the library. Maybe you don't want a book at all. Maybe you'll write your own book... and my library would only so 'lucky' to have it, tucked away somewhere. A memory you never see but is a dream.

I’m sat at the front desk, veering through my phone, locked into a system of nothingness, only is it inspired by my interpretations.

You come up. I look up. Your fingertips make the glass and me, shake, and listen. “Hi! I’d like this one, please.” I look down, and so do I make my phone screen. You put down a continuation of the first book you was reading. A sequel. It’s a series. A graphic novel, perhaps? I don’t know. I haven’t read it. Looks cool. You have taste. I’m speechless, because… nobody has ever bought the last copy of a book I have in stock. I always have books. Most of them are half finished. Some never even opened. Some... or, all... skimmed through, picked for the goods to tweet on social media.

But I just... I never run out. I never run out. I never run out. I NEVER RUN OUT. I NEVER RUN OUT. I NEVER RUN… out.

I’m, yo, I just had a moment. What was that?

One away from ours of business. I hesitate on allowing you to make the purchase, in my head. But I know I can’t. I always stock them in time… not always. I arrive late. I don't deliver. You have to come in. I require you to pick up because I don't want to drive that long. I’m a slacker at my job I claimed I wanted. Now I feel like I actually earned my job for the first time. I grin at you.

“You’re gonna like this one,” I say, as I scan it for you to check out. You’re so fine, I wouldn’t even be a snitch that you renting me out. I mean… the book. What was the name of it again? You handed it to me upside-down. I didn’t get the name… because I was staring at you from behind, digging into your purse for your…

I won’t spoil it for you, shawty.

“Mmhm. Do you take Apple pay?” She must of been from out of town. No library card. Renewal? Late fees? Wait, this is a book store… not a library. I’m so late. Are you late?

You can read between the lines, can’t you?

Wait… Apple Pay? You’re paying with apples? You’re paying with your phone? Where am I? I don’t know where I am. I’m not at the library. I’m an employee working at a book store that I run like the marines. Okay. I know where I am. I know where I am.

“Yes…” Swipe. I knit my eyebrows, pushing up my prescription without rims. Stylish purism. Purism. Niggas naming these sexy looking brands love to be lying. Why the fuck is these shits so foggy? Did I step into a sauna earlier? I miss some of our conversation, I miss some of me missing some of you. You late, huh?

“You want a receipt?”

I see you shrug. Knowing, you are.

“This…” Mine? “book is my receipt,” oh, my dumbass, your lips brim a beam of a smile and I lock in to seeing your eyes key into mine… sending me into a full-blown moment of Tribe. Wow. Quick with it. We can get down. This is the slow motion syndrome.

I’m the cherry on the top of yo ice cream

I’m the mystic thought inside your dream

“Well…” I chuckle, my fro blushing red. Was it blushing like something that grows, a beet, or was it just a burning crown?

Listen to the way we pulsate the jam

I'm the nigga here with the mic in hand

Styles that we present are just a few

To do away with you and your hum drum crew

This is '93 and the shit is real

Black people unite and put down your steel

Actually, it was copper, ginger. But I was feeling red today. Yesterday I was Black. But what were you? I wanna know.

The rhythm's in F, I'm a hip hop body

Again, I say… because I forgot the first time. “It’s all yours.”

Release my energy with the force of a shotty

Teething behind my lips, I felt my jawline caving in as my tongue flourished about the three words just above I said to you. “Come back soon.”

Standing on the wall with my Polo on

“Thank YOU!”

“Yeah.”

Talking to the girl with the Liz Claiborne

Yeah... yeah.

Yeah.

Keep the poetry in my black knapsack

No, thank you.

[motownfiction]

lichen

Will walks around his old favorite park for long enough that he loses track of time. That’s the thing about Manhattan. Walking isn’t relaxing. It can’t be. Detroit isn’t much more peaceful, of course, but at least there aren’t field trips, theater kids, and reality shows on every corner. Central Park is flooded with tourists, and Bryant Park is flooded with different tourists. The only place Will can really think is back here, at home. The place he’s used to.

He doesn’t allow himself to think about what life could have been like had they stayed in Detroit. It’s not fair to Lucy, who got into graduate school in New York, so that was where they had to go. Will didn’t complain then. He was happy to apply to law schools there, to live there, to raise his girls there. Life was louder and faster, but what did that matter? He got to live it with Lucy and Elenore and Emma, and they’re the best people who have ever lived. Hell, when Charlie, Carrie, and Cordelia moved out there, it was like they had a few extra pieces of Motown with them. For a little while.

Sometimes, he lets himself forget that Elenore is pregnant. Sometimes, he lets himself forget that it’s Charlie’s baby, that she wants to go through with it, that she thinks it’s her time to be a mother. And he knows he can’t blame her for that, can’t persuade her, can’t tell her what to do. When Lucy was pregnant at sixteen, and she just knew she wanted to have and raise Elenore, Will didn’t object then. Elenore said the same thing about her baby. She just had a feeling this was right, that it was meant to be, that whoever this baby turns out to be, it will be hers. Elenore told them she had a feeling this was part of her purpose … that when she thought about not having the baby, her arms felt numb. Will said it was like a psychic connection – something she almost surely got from Lucy.

She got it from him, too, but he didn’t want to get into it. He still doesn’t.

It’s been a little over a month, and Will tries not to let it consume him. Elenore is his baby girl, but she’s a grown-up woman with a good heart and a better mind. She can take care of herself. Her feelings are hers. But sometimes, Will can’t stop himself. Elenore’s feelings are hers, and hers alone, but when you love your kid as much as Will loves Elenore … it’s like everything that happens to her happens to him, too. And as much as he hates to admit it, he blames himself.

He blames himself.

He should have known Charlie would be fucked up after his mother’s blatant favoritism. Golden children never make it far when they realize they’re not special – that everyone is, and no one is at all. Maggie never prepared Charlie for what the real world is like, and he went searching for perfection in doe eyes. Elenore had them. She always had them for Charlie. Will’s daughter, full of witty banter and snark, turned into a puddle of nonsense whenever Charlie Doyle walked into a room. It was cute before Charlie turned it into a weapon.

Will wonders who Charlie is trying to hurt by taking advantage of Elenore like that. Is he trying to hurt Elenore by making her love him and shower him with praise? Does he know that the more he turns away from her … the more he rejects her and makes her feel so stupid … the more likely she is to chase him? Does he want her to? Is he trying to hurt Carrie for asking him to leave when he was distant, when he was grieving? Is he trying to hurt Will for not being there for him when Sam died? Will knows he shouldn’t have yelled at him the next Christmas … shouldn’t have said that stuff about how the accident was Charlie’s fault. But he couldn’t help himself. Charlie had just shown up drunk at Sadie’s place and blamed her for the accident, and you don’t talk to Will’s best friend that way.

He stops at a tree for a moment to catch his breath. He forgets how fast his steps have gotten since they’ve been away from home, even after fourteen years. As he holds onto the tree trunk, he flinches, finally taking notice of the lichen beneath his palm.

Maybe he ought to hit Charlie a second time when they get back home. Just to make sure he really felt it.

(part of @nosebleedclub december challenge -- day 17!)

[gailytine]

FNF Family AU/Headcanons!

Quick reminder: I do NOT consider the monika mod as “canon”. Not all of the mods are automatically canon in friday night funkin just because, you know, its a mod!

I am stating this because some people say “they are not siblings because senpai called monika ‘a hot chick’”. Which it is completely understandable! You do you bro. Just don’t ruin the fun for the others who likes to headcanon them as siblings or friends!

This also applies vice versa! If they want to ship them, sure! Let them be. That being said, this AU will bend some of the rules of canon and is completely self indulgent.

Strawberry blondes!

the epitome of “you can’t sit with us”

Do Not Separate Them At All Cost™️

hopeless romantics

every saturday they go shopping together and drink at starbucks while gossiping about their classmates

they all ordered a grande pink drink

they are all binary

Monika

hehe oldy

“nobody can mess with them except me!”

she is the class president, also the president of a club, and is always the top of the class

actually the most long tempered among the three

in college taking up creative writing

really good at coding, for evil purposes

she’s only genuinely kind to the younger two!

does giffany, senpai, and her own hairdo

have a crush on miku

lowkey tired of senpai’s pettiness

“horrible job everyone”

tries to stop senpai’s bullshit

GIFfany

Middle Child Syndrome

ask about how her name is pronounced correctly and she’ll pronounced you dead

to senpai, “a twink with homophobia in his eyes 😻”

she’s always get compared to Monika but she never lash out on her. She actually looks up to her!

dyed her hair pink with matching pink eye contacts

her actual hair color is strawberry blonde like Monika and Senpai and her actual eye color is blue

really loves pink

wishes to be a star idol!

ironically uses cat emojis

probably has a squirrel fursona hidden in her sketchbook idk

goes to claire’s

encourages senpai’s bullshit

Senpai

don’t hurt him! he’s just baby!

possessed by a demon

“you know what? Fuck you” unballs your cock*

is a bit meaner and vulgar than the two

dont fuck with him, he has simps on his side

Monika and GIFfany refuses to call him senpai so they just call him “Sen”

heterochromia! one is green and one is blue

wears fake ear piercing at home

always get baby talked by the older two

very cheesy and romantic, likes to mimic the people in romcoms

potential theater kid

causes bullshit

Bluberry heads

always chants “Mcdonalds” every time they are on the backseat of the car

has a band and it only has a guitarist and two singers

musically inclined

usually very busy so every time they are able to get together, they make the most of it!

they are all bi as well

Miku

“Mikudayo :)”

VERY intimidating

cause you know?? everybody knows her! everybody loves her!

the oldest

is taking a rest from concerts and is spending time with her lil buddies!

childhood friends with Monika

likes to style Sally and BF’s hair!

The Hypewoman

teaches the lil dudes some music stuff!

Sally

“Excuse me, they asked with no pickles”

GNC AS FUCK

Larry is still his step-bro

the least popular of the two but he’s genuinely fine with it

The Translator

is really into supernatural stuff

uses “:|” as an emoticon for. every. emotion.

something funny? XD is old :| is better. genuinely happy? fuck smiley faces its :| now

goes to hot topic

Boyfriend

“beep boop skeed bo bop bep bo”

only speaks english with the people he is comfortable with!

has an energy of a toddler with sugar rush

hehe manlet goes brrrrrr

The Quiet Kid

when he noticed that he’s getting popular, he choose to stay a bit anonymous

he decided to not to use his real name in public

this led to his many nicknames and many debates about his name

[phoenixyfriend]

Anakin Introduces his Jedi Babies (and Himself)

Context:  Anakin and the Jedi Babies, chrono

Warnings for: canon-typical dismemberment, unfortunately-aimed puppy crushes

Word count: 5,839

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

The first time a Jedi meets a Skywalker, it’s on Bandomeer.

The planet is close to Mandalorian space. Finding someone associated with Mandalore is, technically, not that surprising. There are even Mandalorian operations on the planet.

What is surprising is the fact that the person from Mandalorian space is an unfamiliar Jedi Knight who is utterly unstoppable.

(Obi-Wan Kenobi has no way of knowing how similar his experiences are to what might have been, on this planet. Mandalore has been interfering in operations here ever since Ylliben Skywalker started reporting visions about the coming catastrophe. Where that interference has helped or hurt... well. There’s no way to know.)

(Is there?)

When Xanatos shows up and starts taunting Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon, there’s a giggle from the doorway.

All three have to turn to look at the individual in question.

Mid-twenties, leaning against the doorframe, slim but strong, covered in dark fabric and half a set of armor. A scar by one eye, well-kept hair, and a smirk that could burn the longest fuse. A lightsaber, unlit, in one gloved hand.

This man is... very attractive, Obi-Wan thinks. This is not an appropriate thought for the situation. Obi-Wan thinks he can maybe blame it on the exhaustion.

“No, no, keep going,” the stranger says, sounding like there’s a laugh stuck in his throat. He waves dismissively. “Let’s, ah, let’s hear the master plan. Good ranting voice, maybe a six out of ten on the ‘I’m better than you’ and a four on the actual intimidation. You can do better.”

“Excuse me?” Xanatos hisses, sounding incredibly malicious to Obi-Wan’s ears. “Just who do you think you are?”

“And now you’re overselling it,” the stranger sighs. “Are you new at this? You seem new at this.”

“I would... also like to know who you are,” Master Jinn admits, shifting uncertainly as he tries to keep both du Crion and the stranger in his sights.

“I’m just your friendly neighborhood Jedi Knight, here to fight darksiders because... that’s my life, apparently,” the man says, looking down at his arm for some reason. He shakes his head and looks up at them with a bright grin. “Do you need some help, Master Jinn?”

“You still haven’t told us your name.”

“This is true,” the knight says. “That said, I’ve been told by my boss to explicitly avoid naming myself while on this mission for a variety of reasons.”

“Your... boss,” du Crion drawls. “Not the Council, then.”

“Current supervisor,” the stranger offers as correction, completely unconcerned. “It’s a complicated situation, don’t worry about it.”

“I don’t worry about nonentities.”

The man purses his lips like he’s trying very, very hard not to laugh again. It’s very mocking. “Sure, kid.”

Xanatos has had his lightsaber out ever since Obi-Wan and Master Jinn entered the room, but he does one of those fancy, meant-to-be-intimidating one-handed saber twirls as he turns to face the Knight.

The man’s smirk widens. “You do realize you’re going to lose, right? C’mon, kid--”

“I’m older than you!”

“I did like zero research on you as a person, just your many and varied crimes; how old are you?”

Du Crion’s face goes pinched. “I’m twenty-five.”

“Ah, yeah, no, I’m older,” the knight says. “Only a few years, but I’m also a delightfully obnoxious little bastard who ages real slow for, uh, reasons--”

Obi-Wan is fascinated. This man is very strange. And very pretty.

Obi-Wan may be light-headed. Is he bleeding? Blood loss would explain this.

Obi-Wan isn’t bleeding. Damn.

“--anyway, I’m sure I’ve got a more interesting life with more mature experiences than you,” the knight says. “So even if I wasn’t older in body, I’d be older in spirit.”

The knight’s entire sense of being carries such an air of banthashit that Obi-Wan can barely believe it. It’s almost impressive. Obi-Wan wonders how often this man just opens his mouth and immediately gets punched in the face.

“You talk a lot for a man in someone else’s domain.”

“Hey, look on the bright side,” the knight says. “At least I’m not flirting with you. That’s what my master did with almost every darksider we met except his grandmaster.”

Du Crion pauses.

Obi-Wan has the distinct feeling that he and Master Jinn have lost any control they might have, at any point, had over this situation. They hadn’t had much control in the first place, but anything they did have is squarely in the stranger’s court right now. The silver lining to that is that du Crion is thoroughly distracted and has also lost some control of the situation.

“Besides,” the man continues, completely ignoring the very red lightsaber that is being very obviously readied for his death. “This is not that big of an advantage for you. I mean, hey, the fancy central console that can only be reached by skinny walkways with no railings are a nice touch, all chromed metal and minimal lighting, very dramatic, but there’s no lava. I’m not, like, chained to a rock in the middle of an arena for a public execution at the hands of starving animals the size of a fighter ship. You’re threatening to kill me personally instead of standing in the most expensive box of the theater, sipping your wine and congratulating yourself on step one of a plan that has another fifty-thousand steps and no end in sight. You--”

“Is there a point to this?”

“I’m just saying, I’ve been in worse situations by better darksiders than you. This is sad. You’re sad. Try harder.”

Obi-Wan makes a little noise in the back of his throat. Nobody seems to notice, but Master Jinn does put a hand on his shoulder. That’s nice.

“I don’t have any interest in setting up a public execution.”

“What kind of a Sith wannabe are you?” the knight asks, tilting his head. Obi-Wan distantly notes that his hair is longer than initially assumed; it’s just held back and curled. “Public executions are a whole thing. It’s like you’re not even trying. Tell me you’ve at least got vague plans to hand me off to a pirates instead of killing me so you can make some comment about me not even being worth the effort.”

“Are you trying to get yourself killed?” du Crion asks, his voice the kind of forced casual level nonsense that shows he’s actually very, very frustrated. Obi-Wan could almost believe that du Crion is as uninterested as he’s pretending to be.

“If I was trying to get myself killed, I’d... pick a fight with the Trade Federation, maybe? I mean, I survived that when I was nine but they’d probably take me more seriously this time.” The knight taps at his chin. “I don’t even know where the actual Sith is, but--”

“There are no more Sith,” du Crion scoffs.

Oh, the knight looks pitying now. Obi-Wan likes that much more than he should. It just really suits the man’s face.

Quin’s going to make so much fun of him later.

“I have fought multiple Sith,” the man says, slowly and clearly, as though explaining something to a child. “My master fought more than that. I lost my arm to a Sith when I was nineteen. You can say they’re gone, but I don’t trust like that.”

“It’s not a matter of trust,” du Crion says, rolling his eyes. “It has been a thousand years since the Sith were wiped out. Much as I’d like them to still be around, I’m not going to--”

“Oh!” the knight exclaims. “You’re lying! You do think they’re back, this whole mess is you auditioning.”

Du Crion stares at the man as though he’s lost what few marbles he had. “Excuse me?”

“You want to be the next Sith Apprentice,” the man says, cheerfully unconcerned by the mounting tension in the air. “That’s adorable. Well, no, actually, it’s very bad, both for you and for everyone else, and now it means I can’t just kill you in battle like I was planning because the Jedi are going to need you for information. Blast.”

Du Crion’s eyes widen. It is not in fear, but in incredulity. Obi-Wan thinks that it’s all in the eyebrows and the tight, befuddled smile. “You were planning to kill me, Jedi?”

“I mean... yeah, kinda,” the knight says, shrugging. “Quick and clean option, that.”

This time, Master Jinn is the one that makes a disbelieving noise that both of the bitchy twenty-somethings ignore.

“You’re a Jedi,” du Crion points out, entirely pleasant.

“...yes,” the man says, not meeting anyone’s eyes. “Technically.”

Du Crion is very much distracted by this. “Technically?”

The man wiggles a hand. “Arguments can be made. I certainly was trained as a Jedi and consider myself to be one. My knighting was according to protocol, and at the Temple. Technically.”

“...but?” Master Jinn prompts.

The knight smiles like he’s got something very spicy in his mouth and is unwilling to admit it’s too much for him. “But nothing! Don’t worry about it. There’s a fight to be had with a Sith wannabe who doesn’t realize he’s not going to measure up.”

“Arrogant,” du Crion accuses.

“No,” the knight immediately says. “You just don’t fight a galactic war without learning which opponents are actually going to kill you.”

Obi-Wan leans into Master Jinn’s side, his legs feeling a little too much like jelly. He whispers, “I have so many questions.”

“As do I, Padawan,” Master Jinn mutters back, and something in Obi-Wan’s heart twists. He’s a padawan! Master Jinn’s actually going to go through with it!

The fight does actually happen, at that point. The knight lights his saber and leaps forward, flashing through Djem So movements without a moment’s hesitation. For all the trash talk and boasting, the fight isn’t actually over very quickly. Du Crion is good, even without having had a chance to spar against a real person since he left the Order. Power flows around him, dark and heavy and sharp in ways that the Force usually isn’t, and the red saber snaps through the air with a speed Obi-Wan can barely track. Xanatos du Crion is, without question, danger incarnate in this moment.

The unknown knight is better.

There are attempts at banter, mostly by the stranger. Du Crion is too focused on the fight to bother responding. Obi-Wan just clings to Master Jinn, trying to stay awake and aware. It’s difficult, given the past few days, and even with help from the Force, he’s flagging.

The way the knight moves is... captivating, though.

(Quinlan’s going to laugh at the top of his lungs, later. Obi-Wan’s going to blush and stutter and bury his face in a pillow, and Bant’s going to pat his back like the amazing friend she is, and Quin’s just going to laugh, like an asshole.)

The fight doesn’t end cleanly. The knight cuts du Crion’s saber in half and, in the same movement, cuts the man’s hand off.

Obi-Wan’s seen too much blood in the last few days for it to shock him, but the smell is... unpleasant.

“I don’t suppose either of you carries Force-nullifying cuffs?” the knight asks, holding his saber to du Crion’s neck with an expression that is amused and satisfied in equal measure.

“No,” Master Jinn says. He seems... very bothered. Well, du Crion was his student once. Obi-Wan can’t imagine he’d be very calm if he had a student that went dark and started killing children. “Was cutting off his hand really necessary?”

“I feel like half my fights end with either someone dying or someone losing a limb,” the knight muses. “Sometimes that limb is my own, even!”

Obi-Wan isn’t sure if the man is manic or just trying to throw them off their rhythm. It probably doesn’t matter.

“Okay, I have Force-nullifying cuffs of my own,” the man says. “But these things are expensive as hell, and they weren’t paid for by the Order, so just giving them to you isn’t really on the table. That said... my ship kind of got shot down on the way here. If you could give me a ride off-planet--”

“Our ship was also shot down.”

The knight blinks at him, and then kicks du Crion in the hamstring. It’s not a very hard kick, but du Crion shoots him a look of offense that’s probably justified. Getting kicked when one is already down is never a great feeling.

“Stop shooting people,” the knight scolds.

Obi-Wan feels vaguely like he’s having a fever dream.

“Okay, new plan,” the man says. “What kind of ship did you come in?”

“KYL-3400 small transport,” Master Jinn says, with not a little hesitation. “Why?”

The knight grins. “I’m going to cannibalize it for parts.”

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

Jango has known Anakin Skywalker for six years. Many of those years have been spent being yanked into babysitting for the man. For reasons Jango doesn’t feel like examining, this will likely continue.

“You’re late,” he says, as the man in question stumbles out of a battered ship that looks only barely like the one that left three months ago. “I thought you said Bandomeer was a quick fix.”

“Ship got shot down, had to help some Jedi, ran into fucking Onaka on the way back,” Skywalker grouses. “I feel like shit. Where are my kids?”

“Buir says you have to go to medical.”

“Yeah, sure, whatever. My kids, Jango.”

“They can visit you in medical.”

“And, what, Mereel’s gonna go there for a debrief?”

“Your debrief is going through me,” Jango says, and doesn’t let himself flinch when Skywalker makes a face. “He’ll check in later.”

“Yeah, no,” Skywalker says, taking a step forward and then swaying with a curse. “Listen, this actually does need to go to Mand’alor direct, not just the Alor-in-training--”

“Please don’t do that with my language,” Jango immediately says. “That’s not--no. ‘Alor-in-training’ isn’t a thing. Don’t do that.”

Skywalker turns on his heel with a frustrated snarl, and Jango’s eyes widen as the stupid tunics the man wears flare out.

“Is that a blaster wound?”

“No.”

“Yes it--for fuck’s sake, Skywalker!” Jango growls and just goes over to grab the taller man by the shoulders and march him to medical. “I’m calling your sister.”

“Don’t tell Shmi, she’s got enough to--”

“I’m calling your sister,” Jango snaps. “And you’re going to deal with it. Ka’ra, do you even think? Is there a brain in that head of yours?”

“I’ve been told my braincell is lonely.”

“I’m going to shove you in a trash compactor, dikut’la jetii,” Jango mutters. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”

“If I say yes, will you let me go deal with it on my own?”

Jango strangles his own scream and shoves Skywalker into the nearest examination room. “Fix him!”

The medic looks up, raises a brow, and turns to Skywalker. “What did you do?”

“What didn’t I do?” Skywalker shoots back, grinning like they’re sharing battle stories over a drink in a cantina.

The medic--Mirka’lu, he thinks--crosses her arms. “General.”

Oh man, the medics must be angry with him already if they’re already jumping titles like that.

“I’m just a knight--”

“General Skywalker.”

The man in question grimaces. “I maybe got shot during an altercation with some pirates.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And... I maybe--maybe--picked a fight with some Hutt enforcers.”

Jango’s going to wring his neck.

Right after he calls Shmi.

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

Komari does her level best to not shift nervously under the judgmental eyes of the man they’re pretty sure is the Mand’alor. Her master’s got the situation under control. She’s just there to observe. They’ve got an entire team--

“Is that your way of telling me that your Order did minimal research on the situation before coming to intervene, and the only reason you bothered to reach out is because one of my men, weeks ago, let you know that Death Watch is setting traps for both my people and yours?”

Komari feels the flare of annoyance from Master Dooku. She doesn’t react, but she can hear the tension when her Master speaks.

“I assure we would not have attacked on Galidraan unless attacked first, or if we’d found solid evidence of the actions we were informed of,” Master Dooku says, quiet and even. “All your messenger did was save us all a little time.”

Mereel smiles thinly. “Saved us all some lives, more like it.”

“Perhaps.”

“Ah, jetiise aren’t the only ones with Force-Sensitives,” the Mand’alor says. “I’ve more than a few under my command. Visions aren’t foolproof, I’m aware, but I’ll be damned if such a warning goes completely ignored.”

Master Dooku makes a low humming noise. “Be that as it may, I’m unsure of what it is that you’re expecting out of our... presence. We are not here to help you claim your presumed throne. We are only here to stop the killings we were told about.”

“I don’t need your help to reunite my people.” Mereel waves a hand, batting the mere suggestion away. “But I’d appreciate the help with taking out the terrorist group that’s actually going out and murdering the helpless, this planet’s farmers and doctors and children. Kyr’tsad isn’t just a thorn in my side, Master Jedi.”

“And what proof do I have that you aren’t just the same kind of monster as you claim they are?” Master Dooku challenges.

It’s a little brazen, considering how dicey these negotiations are. For all that Komari herself doesn’t wince, someone behind her outright hisses in dismay. She agrees with the sentiment.

Mereel just laughs at them. He catches the eye of one of the armored individuals along the wall, human or close to it, and nods to himself.

“Right,” the man says. “Well, we have our own Jedi. Would you like to meet him?”

Master Dooku is immobile, as if carved from stone. The rest of the group is... not.

“I suppose that would be acceptable,” Master Dooku says, and Komari feels the tension in him wind further through the training bond. There are a million questions to be had here. None of them can be answered without the supposed Jedi.

“Great,” the Mand’alor says. He leans back in his seat and turns to the door. With the press of a button, the door slides open. “Ben!”

A child darts into the room, stops, and bounces on their feet. Probably male, Komari thinks, and very anxious. The child’s eyes dart about the room, taking in every single Jedi in sight. When that gaze lands on Master Dooku, there’s a flash of recognition and... not hate, but distaste. Confused and distant dismay, maybe. The child turns back to Mereel.

“Mand’alor,” the child greets, still bouncing. “Am I needed?”

“Thought I told you this meeting was for grown-ups,” the Mand’alor says.

Ben shrugs. “I wanted to listen in.”

“That door is soundproofed and you know it.”

“So?”

The Mand’alor grins. “Do me a favor and go fetch your dad.”

“Buir’s still sleeping,” Ben says, grave as dirt. It’s a strange expression for such a small child. He can’t be older than eight, and Komari’s pretty sure even that’s a stretch. “Shmi’s gonna be mad if he has to wake up before the bacta’s done.”

“I just need him for negotiations,” Mereel assures the child.

“Aggressive negotiations with a lightsaber?” Ben asks, and Komari nearly chokes.

“No, just regular ones.”

Ben nods sharply, and then turns and runs out.

“That boy...” Mereel mutters, but it’s fond. “Anywa--”

“BUIR!” Ben’s voice echoes from the hall, faint but audible, along with some very loud banging on what is presumably a door. “DAD! WAKE UP, THE COUNT IS HERE!”

The Count? Komari wonders. Even Master Dooku seems surprised.

The question is clearly on more minds than just her own. Mereel raises a brow at Master Dooku and gestures vaguely. “Didn’t know any of you were nobility. You a Count, Master Jedi?”

“No,” Master Dooku says, and before the Mand’alor can press further, he adds, “but if I were to retire from the Order, the title would be mine to inherit. As I have no intentions of retiring, I am not and will not be a Count, but I assume that is what the child is referring to.”

“Ben,” the Mand’alor corrects. He seems pleased with the reasonable answer. “Ylliben Skywalker. I suggest you refer to him by name.”

“You have a fondness for him,” Master Dooku notes.

Mereel shrugs. “No more than any other child, objectively, but his father is one of my more effective allies, and he gets antsy about things. Saying ‘your child’ won’t be a problem, but ‘the child’ is... well.”

The smirk is a challenge that Komari doesn’t feel ready to meet. She’s glad it’s not hers to handle.

“Why do you ‘have’ a Jedi?” Master Dooku asks, pushing the conversation back to the point Komari’s sure he was initially aiming for.

“Found him in a snowstorm, brought him inside,” Mereel says, grinning. “And then he refused to leave, the shabuir. Troublesome man, like you wouldn’t believe, but useful.”

“Like a feral tooka,” someone behind Komari mutters. She feels a part of her soul die.

You can’t just say that in front of the Mand’alor! she screeches in the depths of her mind, despairing.

“Exactly,” Mereel agrees with a laugh. “Skywalker’s a feral tooka.”

Komari dies a little more.

“Talkin’ shit about me, Mereel?”

...oh no.

This one’s pretty.

The man is tall, dressed almost entirely in black, and looks like shit.

“You look like you got run over by a herd of bantha,” the Mand’alor notes.

“I got back less than a day ago,” Skywalker growls out. He leans against the wall behind the Mand’alor’s desk. He folds his arms. He glowers around the room. “The kriff is Count Dooku doing here?”

“Master Dooku,” the man in question says, a little pained. “As I informed Mand’alor Mereel, I may technically have claim to that title, but I am a Jedi. So long as I remain a Jedi, the title isn’t actually mine.”

Skywalker makes a face, and then shakes his head. “Fine. Whatever. Jaster, what the hell do you need from me?”

“Well, some manners would be nice.”

“I got shot and am putting myself in a position to get yelled at by baar’ur Mirka’lu for coming here when I’m supposed to be on bed rest,” Skywalker growls out. He kicks Mereel’s chair, glaring at the back of the man’s head. “You’re lucky I put on pants.”

Mereel seems unbothered by this statement or treatment.

Komari thinks her eyes may currently be the size of dinner plates.

“You’re the one from Bandomeer.”

Skywalker’s head snaps up to focus his gaze on Master Dooku. “Say what?”

“You’re the one my former Padawan encountered on Bandomeer,” Master Dooku says, something satisfied in his tone. “He said you refused to give a name, but the physical description does match.”

“Oh, lovely, Jinn’s been gossiping,” Skywalker mutters. “That’s just--”

“General Skywalker,” Mereel says, voice finally slipping to something more stern than amused. “If you could please focus.”

Skywalker rolls his eyes and mutters something about painkillers.

“Buir?”

Skywalker’s head tilts to the side, and he holds one arm out to the side. The kid from before--Ben--darts in to cling to the man’s side. A slightly taller Togruta follows in and ducks in under his other arm. Both children keep a wary gaze fixed on the same person, and their adult...

Every look from this man is a new challenge to Master Dooku.

“They’re yours?”

That is the exact question Komari was hoping her master wouldn’t ask.

“We’re in Mandalorian territory,” Skywalker says. “They’re Force-Sensitive orphans with an incredible amount of potential. If I didn’t claim them, someone else would have.”

It’s not an airtight justification--the man could have just sent them to the Temple--but the air around him is roiling with aggression. This man does not like Master Dooku, and is more than a shade protective of these--his--children. Komari shifts her weight and worries as the pregnant silence grows heavier.

“As you say,” Master Dooku allows, and some of the bowstring-tight tension in the room loosens, drains away like foul bathwater. “If I may... I was unaware you were a General, nor that Mandalore had a standing army large enough for such a position.”

“He’s not,” Mereel says. “Used to be, won’t tell me where. It’s not my business, or yours. Title’s a holdover from whatever war he was fighting before we got him.”

Komari is not the only person whose heart drops as Master Dooku says, “Qui-Gon claimed that the rogue knight he’d met on Bandomeer mentioned a galactic war against the Sith.”

Mereel blinks, and then turns his seat around to look at Skywalker. The other Mandalorians look at Skywalker. Every single Jedi also looks at Skywalker.

The Togruta child sticks her tongue out at Master Dooku.

“I did say that,” Skywalker says. “What of it?”

“You know, when I said I didn’t care what fight you were running that turned you into a soldier, I kind of assumed it was something on the level of, say, a system-wide civil war,” Mereel drawls. “Not galactic Force nonsense.”

Skywalker shrugs. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want answers to.”

“Because you’ll lie?”

“No, I’m just going to be really annoying about it,” Skywalker tells him. The Togruta giggles and shoves her face into his side. “Or, hell, I’ll let Ben do it. We both know he can talk circles around basically everyone in this room.”

“Skywalker.”

“Mereel.”

The two hold gazes for a moment that lasts just a little too long, and then Mereel breaks it off. “We’re talking about this later.”

“Of course, Mand’alor,” Skywalker says, with a grim sort of smile. “Wouldn’t dream of doing otherwise.”

Mereel doesn’t seem particularly impressed by that.

Komari wonders if anyone else remembers that Skywalker was supposed to be here to make negotiations easier.

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

Yan Dooku is having a Day.

He’s not entirely sure whom to blame for this mess. Perhaps Yoda, for suggesting he handle this mission. Perhaps the governor of Galidraan, who decided collaborating with terrorists for his own gain was a good idea. Perhaps Jaster Mereel, whose influence and power is enough that Yan needs to tread carefully. Perhaps Qui-Gon, for giving him just enough information about Skywalker to cause some drama.

Perhaps Skywalker for being a recalcitrant, ornery bastard who delights in Yan’s suffering.

(One of the Mandalorians calls him that to his face, and Skywalker informs the man that “my mother always told me I didn’t have a father,” and stares until the Mando stammers out an apology and turns on his heel.)

(The smirk on Skywalker’s face is certainly informative.)

“Hi.”

Yan looks up from the datapad he’s been using to try and punch out a report, for all that he can’t find the words he needs, and sees the Togruta youngling from Skywalker’s side hanging upside-down from a ventilation grate.

He blinks evenly at her. “Good afternoon. Is that your normal manner of traversing the building?”

“Yeah, when Jan-Jan isn’t yelling at me about it,” she says, and drops from the ceiling. Seemingly without paying attention, she directs the grate itself back into place with the Force, screws reattaching themselves with only the slightest whisper. She’s done this many, many times.

“I’m afraid I don’t know who that is.”

“Jango Fett,” she clarifies. “Ad be Mand’alor.”

Child of the king.

He does remember that much from the briefing.

“I see,” Yan says, rather than try to tackle whatever the usage of such a nickname implies. “I’m afraid nobody’s seen fit to introduce you, youngling.”

“I’m Sokanth Skywalker, but most people call me Soka,” she says, with a bouncing, shallow bow. Full of energy, this one. “I’m eight.”

“The General is your father, then?”

“Mm-hm! He adopted me when I was almost two,” she says, and climbs up onto the bench. She wraps her arms around her knees and beams up. “Ben was still a baby, and we didn’t go get Shmi until a few months later when Skyguy could afford it.”

“Skyguy?” Yan prompts.

“My dad,” she explains, head tilting a little as she studies his reaction. “I... I’ve always called him Skyguy. He took care of me before he adopted me, for at least a year. He says I called him Skyguy when I first started talking, back then, and then he didn’t make me stop when he adopted me.”

“I see,” Yan says. “Does your father know you’re speaking with me?”

“Probably.”

“And would he approve?” Yan hints as heavily as he can. “He doesn’t seem to like me very much.”

“That’s because we’ve all seen what you could be,” she says. “But you’re not the Count yet, so it’s okay.”

Information. “Ah. Visions, then. That would explain some things.”

“Ben gets them the most,” she keeps talking. “But it’s not just that. It’s like... patterns. The Sith are going to target you, because they’re going to think you’re worth corrupting.”

“And you’ve seen enough Sith to know that?”

“Yeah.”

“Visions are not foolproof,” he says, trying to keep his tone gentle. He’s not used to interacting with children of this age, and this one comes with a father in the Mand’alor’s confidence, someone he can’t afford to irritate by making a daughter cry. “I have a friend who is very prone to visions, and some come true, some don’t, and others--”

“Are self-fulfilling,” Sokanth finishes for him. “I know that. But my dad’s actually fought Sith, y’know. The guy who cut off my dad’s arm used to be a Jedi Master, like you, and he was all fancy-schmancy and a history nerd for Sith stuff, and didn’t like the Council or their decisions very much. Like you.”

That’s... very personal.

“A surface-level similarity is not enough to make the claim that I am to become a Sith,” he says.

She blinks at him, eyes too large for a face that’s so near to human in bone-structure. It’s unnerving. “Whether or not you Fall is your choice, Count. All I can tell you is that you are the kind of person they look to groom... if only as a pawn.”

The words are too old for a girl her size.

“You speak as if you’ve faced the Sith yourself,” Yan says, well aware now that he needs to tread carefully, but... “You’re too young to go out into the field. I can’t imagine your father would allow a child like yourself to go up against someone that dangerous.”

She blinks those too large eyes, and tilts her head in the other direction, and then smiles. “You care. That’s good. Keep that compassion, Count.”

He raises an eyebrow. “I feel like you’re evading the question.”

Sokanth giggles. “Maybe. Buir doesn’t like us talking about it much. It makes him sad, ‘cuz he can’t help us not hurt, and a lot of it is really scary. It’s like... my memories are too big for my head. I don’t get a lot of visions, but I get a lot of dreams of things that happened that I’m not alive for. And buir does remember those things happening, so it’s true, and it happened, but I only... sort of remember it, and when I think about it too hard, it hurts my head. Or I get nightmares about it, and I don’t like those. Ben’s got it worse, though. He has more to fight.”

It’s a lot of information.

It’s confusing information.

It’s... possibly information that the General has asked her to feed him for reasons he can’t even begin to guess at.

“In this war your father fought,” Yan asks, “were you a soldier as well?”

“Commander,” she corrects, voice soft. “That’s what the dreams call me, before they start screaming.”

“How old are you really?” He asks, before he can quite stop himself.

She laughs, suddenly bright again. “I’m as old as I look. I’m eight. Just because the Force gives me memories I shouldn’t have doesn’t mean that my brain isn’t a kid. Sometimes Ben tries to act older than he is ‘cuz of the memories, y’know. Buir gets sad whenever he does that, ‘cuz he thinks we deserve to be kids before the galaxy goes to hell again.”

“He’s sure of such a thing?”

“It always does,” she says, with the air of someone who isn’t sure how their conversation partner could be quite that dense. Her voice takes on a sing-song cadence, like she’s telling a fable instead of a philosophy. “War always comes eventually. Not every sentient is selfish, but enough are, and they tend to be the ones that claw their way to the top. The rich and powerful will take and take and take, and then, when there’s nothing left, they will use their living stepping stones to tear each other apart. All we can do is be ready to end it as quickly as possible once it comes.”

Yan lets the claim sit for a long, quiet minute. “Did your father tell you that?”

“No,” she says. “Ben did.”

The six-year-old.

“He has a way with words,” Yan manages.

“Sometimes he uses his stuffed animals to host courtroom dramas,” she says. “He makes me look up the right laws so it can be procedurally accurate, ‘cuz he’s a nerd but so am I, and it makes Skyguy happy when he sees us playing like that instead of just doing saber forms and stuff.”

Yan has... no idea what to do with that. “I wouldn’t normally call courtroom dramas a normal children’s activity.”

“Yeah, but Ben’s a nerd,” she says, as if that’s all that needs to be said. Maybe, for her, it is. “And there’s only so much time I’m allowed to spend hunting.”

Right. Togruta.

“And what was your father doing at that age?”

“I’m not allowed to talk about that,” she says immediately. “Because it’s very private and he and Shmi get upset if we bring it up, ‘cuz of trauma and stuff.”

Shmi. The... sister, he thinks. People seem to be unclear on that. He’s heard a few refer to the teenager as just “one of Skywalker’s,” so that’s something to consider. She’s near-perfectly halfway between the children and the General, in terms of age, so it’s a little ambiguous where she fits.

That said, he’s been in a lot of places in his time as a Jedi Master. It’s taken him a little longer than it should have to realize, but he thinks he’s got at least part of the puzzle.

Skywalker’s a slave name. Tatooine, specifically.

It’s not confirmation, really, but...

Well. He thinks it’s better he doesn’t dig, on that subject.

“Hey,” Sokanth says, tugging at his sleeve. “Can I ask ya something?”

“I cannot promise an answer, but you may ask.”

“Can you spar with Skyguy? I wanna see who wins.”

[adhdeancas]

12x01 Rewrite with Trans Dean

trigger warnings for minor mention of dysphoria. Also minor/negligent transphobia. 

“Mom?” His heart is stopped in his chest, staring at the face he’s kept in his head for all of his life, the face he’s thought of as the only real home he’s ever had. She looks the same, exactly the same. “I… uh, are you really… real?” 

He reaches out without thinking, needing to just make sure that Amara didn’t bring back a fantasy or a ghost or a sick joke. She proves it without him touching her, flipping him in a neat trick he recognizes from his own training and ending up with her foot on his neck, pressing him into the dirt. “Where am I? Who the hell are you?”

She looks so scared. Dean swallows, his Adam’s apple bouncing against the bottom of her foot. He needs to make her trust him, preferably before she does something rash like snap his neck. “I’m Dean Winchester. I’m your son. I’m… Sam’s brother”

The pressure lets up on Dean’s neck even though Mary’s shaking her head. “No. No, I don’t have two boys. They’re- they’re just kids.”

Dean winces, breathing heavily. This is gonna be a motherfucker for her to understand. Still, Mary lets him up, and he stands and rubs his neck, trying desperately to recall every bit of information he’s stored away about his mom. “Mom. Listen to me. Your name- your name is Mary Sandra Campbell, okay? You were born December 5, 1954, to Samuel and Deanna Campbell. Your father, he bounced around a lot for, uh, work, and you bounced right along with him, and you ended up in Lawrence, Kansas.”

Mary flinches, the facts hitting straight-on. “How do you know all that?” 

“Dad told me.” Dean tells her. He doesn’t tell her that he had to gather the story from slurred words, drunken tears in between stories about the perfect wife. That he recited them in his head like a prayer so he wouldn’t forget her. “March 23, 1972, you walked out of a movie theater - Slaughterhouse-Five. You loved it, and you bumped into a big Marine and you knocked him flat on his ass. You were embarrassed, and he laughed it off, said you could make it up to him with a cup of coffee. So, you went to, uh,” God, what was the name of that stupid place? “Mulroney’s, and you talked and he was cute and he knew the words to every Zeppelin song,” A memory of a smiling young alive Mary comes to mind, and he pushes it away because it hurts. She’s right there. “So when he asked you for your number, you gave it to him, even though you knew your dad would be pissed. That was the night that -” You fell in love with- “that you met -”

“John Winchester.”

“August 19, 1975, you were married… in Reno. Your idea.”Dean had always thought that was hilarious. He looks her in the eyes again, pleading with her to not dispute the next part. “A few years later, I came along, then Sammy.”

“No, no. My oldest was a girl, Deanna.” Mary looks Dean up and down, taking in his short hair, wide shoulders, and flat chest. He crosses his arms over that now, uncomfortable, hoping she isn’t looking at his long eyelashes or his delicate cheekbones or his hips. All the places he’s insecure about. 

“Yeah, um… that’s me.” He looks up at her, his jaw clenching, waiting for the ball to drop. “I shortened the name a little, and the- uh- hair.” He tries for the old charming smile as he runs a hand through the spiky hair he hasn’t let grow out in 20 years. It doesn’t quite get there, settling at a more delicate need for approval. Mary doesn’t give it to him. “Do you believe me?”

She bypasses the question, turning her eyes away from him to look at the car behind him. Something changes in her eyes. “I burned.” She says quietly, like she’s remembering the heat. Dean swallows. He remembers the heat too. “How long have I been gone?”

“33 years.” His voice cracks. 

Mary looks back to him, and she moves forward, putting two gentle fingers to his cheek, to the freckles sprayed across soft skin. He’s had them forever, even when he was little. “Dee?” She calls him by his old nickname; Dean’s doubly thankful that he doesn’t use his deadname. 

“Hi, mom.” There are tears in his eyes.

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

“How did he die?”

Dean bows his head. He’s really not selling himself too good here, is he? First the trans thing, now- “He gave himself up for me.” He’ll be surprised if Mary wants anything to do with him. Surprisingly, she chuckles and sniffles. 

“That does sound like John.” He looks over, and she’s smiling. His brow furrows. Killing himself to save Dean’s ass does sound like John, but not in a way that makes him want to smile. “And he was a hunter? And he raised-” She stutters now, looking at him again and looking away just as quickly. “You and Sam to be-”

“Yeah, he did.” A cold weight is settling in Dean’s stomach, and he tries and fails to not let it seep into his words.

“And you said we’ve met before, when you traveled through time,”

Dean nods. It had been horrible and amazing to see Mary and have her see him, just as some guy. A guy, at all. “Twice. Your memory got wiped, so…” So you don’t remember me telling you I was your kid, and you not believing me. I do.

“And you’re… my daughter-”

Dean coughs. He hasn’t been called a daughter in a long-ass time. “No, I’m- I mean. I was. I know it’s a lot. And I’ll explain everything. I will. But right now, let’s get out of here. Let’s get you home. Come on, Mom.”

She doesn’t correct him, which means she must believe, at least a little bit, that she is his mom. 

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

“You live here?” She looks around the cavernous space and he smiles, looking around too. It really is awesome. 

“Yeah, when we’re not on the road. It’s an old Men of Letters bunker.”

“Men of Letters?” She scoffs. Dean grins a bit and looks at her. He thinks he likes her. “They’re a myth. An old hunter’s story.”

He tilts his head. He’s just gonna keep blowing her mind today, apparently. “Not so much. New duds look good.” He gestures to her clothes. He’d lent her some extra clothes he’d had in the trunk, and he tries not to fixate on how they weren’t that big on her. He’s not much taller than her, and he knows part of that even is the heeled boots he’s wearing. 

“Well, thanks. It’s better than walking around in that nightgown the rest-” Dean’s nodding, about to say something extremely awkward like ‘Yeah, nightgowns are a bitch,’ when he finally looks at what she’s staring at, spattered on the floor of the bunker. “That’s blood.”

 “Yeah.” Dean’s heart leaps into his throat, but he goes into autopilot before he can think about freaking out. He takes his gun out from his pants and cocks it, clearing the immediate area. A blurred sigil on the wall puts another bolt of fear through his chest. “Sammy? Cas?” He winces at how high his voice goes.

He takes the Map Table’s gun out from its hiding place and hands it to Mary. She was a hunter too, and he’s not about to leave her unarmed to clear the place. “Take this. Stay here.” Dean takes off immediately. It isn’t until he’s moving on to check the kitchen that he hears the voice. Mary’s clear as a bell, saying, 

“Hands, now,”

Dean’s in the room before he can think about it. His heart practically comes undone when he sees that dumb familiar trench coat. He puts his body between Cas and his mom’s gun immediately, hoping she will trust him enough not to shoot through him. “Whoa, whoa, whoa whoa whoa whoa whoa! It’s okay, it’s okay. He’s a friend, all right?” He meets Cas’s eyes and sees the utter relief in his eyes, and a surge of warmth fills his chest. “Hey, Cas.”

It’s a lackluster greeting when they both thought they’d never see each other again, and Cas shows it when he steps forward quickly and pulls Dean into a tight hug. “Dean!”

Dean grins and pats his back. “Hey, okay. All right,” He comforts him quietly. 

“Dean, you’re alive?” Cas pulls away and looks him over, like he’s afraid Dean might disappear. Dean nods, understanding; he had done the same thing to Mary, after all.

“Yeah.”

“What about the bomb and the Darkness? What happened?”

“I’ll tell you everything. Where is Sam?”

“He’s not here.” Obviously. Dean could smack him, but his face wants to break into a fond smile instead. He represses both urges.

“Are you a hunter?”

“No, I’m an angel.”

“He’s an angel.” Dean says over Cas. They look at each other and then back at Mary. 

“Come again?”

“An angel, with a capital A,” Dean clarifies. He feels, ridiculously, a little bit like he’s showing off. Showing Cas off. “You know, wings, harp.”

“No, I don’t have a harp.”

Dean laughs. “This is Castiel. Cas, this is… Mary. Winchester.”

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

“It’s been kinda weird, here. You know, with mom being back?” And learning that her baby girl is now a full grown man? “It’s like we don’t know how to act around each other, so we just kinda make this small talk, and act like it’s normal, but it’s- it’s so not normal.” Dean can hear the pleading in his voice. 

“What has she said to you?” Cas asks quickly. Dean bites his lip to hide the smile he’s trying to get from hearing Cas get all angry and protective on his behalf. He’s reminded of the time Cas looked him directly in the face and said, ‘Dean Winchester, if anyone is ever transphobic to you, I will smite them immediately and without any remorse.’ And before Dean could make a quip about internalized transphobia, Cas added, ‘Do not make me do that to you.’

“Well, nothing. That’s- that’s the whole point.” It’s the kind of thing most people usually wanna go over, what the fuck gender their kid is? He’s pretty sure no news does not mean good news in this context.

“Okay, what have you said to her?”

“Well, nothing. I’m- I don’t know what to say to her, y’know? It’s like it’s all too much, and I don’t wanna overwhelm her.” 

“Dean, your identity is not ‘too much.’” Cas says immediately. Dean sighs. That wasn’t what he meant, even though he has said something similar before. Something when he was lonely and sad and feeling like explaining his dick to a one night stand was too complicated for him to do to even assuage it that way.

“No- I know. It’s not that. It’s… everything.”

Now it’s Cas’s turn to sigh. “Don’t make things unnecessarily complicated, as you humans tend to do. I’ll call you.” He hangs up. 

Dean lets the phone fall with his arm limp to his side. “Yeah. Great. That’s helpful.” He says to the empty air. “That’s helpful.” Asshole.

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

They’re in the car, and Dean is driving, and there is too much going on. He’s not sure whether he’s happy that Cas is in the backseat for this conversation or not. “So you’re… my Deanna.”

Dean’s hands tighten on the wheel. He looks at them and ignores the voice in his head that says they are petite. Womanly. “Uh, yeah. I was born Deanna Jane Winchester.” He clears his throat and meets Cas’s eyes in the rearview. He gives him a little nod, and Dean continues. “I’m… It’s called trans.”

Dean risks a look over at Mary, and she’s playing with her ring. “So you… wanted to be a boy.” 

Dean clears his throat again. He’s pretty sure he does it every time before he talks, and he’s also pretty sure his voice gets lower every time he talks, too. He swears it’s an automatic reflex. 

“Dean’s soul is- that of a human man.” Cas interrupts, saying it like that clarifies things. The corner of Dean’s mouth tilts up a little bit. Cas did tell him that he could see his soul, and also told him that it was, and he quotes ‘A color more similar to that of a men than women.’ Which, yeah, that tracks. He guesses Cas leaves off the ‘more similar’ part to make things simpler for Mary.

“And so you…” Mary trails off, a finger pointing toward his chest aborting its mission when she realizes it might be rude. 

Dean raises an eyebrow with amusement. “Cut my tits off? Yeah.” He takes a hand off the wheel to raise his shirt, proudly showing off his top surgery scars. Mary trails a hand along them, feeling the raised skin. “After Sammy went to college. It was a bitch of a few weeks, but it was worth it.”

Mary takes her hand away and nods, brows furrowed like she’s trying to wrap her head around it. Dean grins. The grin freezes awkwardly, the edges tilting down, when Mary opens her mouth again. “So you have a-”

Cas coughs loudly in the back seat. Dean meets his wide eyes with a similar expression, and Mary cuts off the question, catching onto the fact she said something wrong. “Don’t think we really need to go there, do we, mom?”

That was a question for him and whatever lucky son of a bitch (gender neutral) ended up in his bed at the end of the night. “Right.” Mary says quickly. She turns her whole body then, asking, “Is that why you like men?”

Dean only swerves a little, he swears. The car coming the opposite direction doesn’t seem to agree, holding its horn long and hard. Luckily, it gives him a moment to stutter less obviously. 

“Sorry, I just meant- since you two are-” Mary gestures between Cas and Dean, and Dean blinks his eyes solidly, trying to convince himself this is really happening.

“No! I mean, we-” Dean doesn’t have the balls (hehe) to look at Cas in the back seat, but he can see the trench coat shifting out of his peripheral. “I’m not-”

“Was John okay with this?”

Dean laughs. It comes out bitter and dark. “Dad didn’t much give a fuck what I did with my body. He’d given up on grandkids about the time he saw how decent I was at hunting, so my long hair wasn’t a personal loss.” He knew I wasn’t gonna live long enough to give him grandkids, not without some self-sacrifice on John’s part.

Mary looks a little shocked at his outburst, and Dean almost feels bad for being so blunt and crass. But then he remembers growing up with John as his male role model, and he tightens his jaw. No, the bluntness and crassness was accurate. “Oh.”

“... Yeah.” Dean bites his lip and risks another glance at his mom. 

“So, you’re okay with this?” He waves a hand at himself. Asking if she was okay with him was just too pathetic, even for him. She looks at him uncertainly, a frown he recognizes as his own on her face.

“I don’t think I’m okay with any of this, Dean. But… I guess I’ll adjust.”

[moscarific]

1984 for the ask thing. :)

Well, this sure did become a thing.

Film

This Is Spinal Tap - Almost forty years later, I have not stopped laughing at this movie. When I saw it as a kid, the mockumentary style threw me for a loop in the best way, because I was so used to seeing comedy that was showy and carefully timed, and the humor here feels off-the-cuff and real. Everything in my home goes up to 11.

The Muppets Take Manhattan - This film does not actually hold up except for the music, but the scene with Miss Piggy and Joan Rivers turned me into a 5-year-old drag queen.

The NeverEnding Story - Am I too old to harbor a tiny hope that I will someday step into a book and become the hero of its story? And get to ride on a big fluffy white dragon?

The Adventures of Buckaroo Banzai Across the 8th Dimension - It has been a couple of decades since I first watched this in college - drunk and/or high at midnight in the college theater - and I still have no idea what the fuck I just saw. But I'm pretty sure it was awesome.

Ghostbusters - My dad took me to see this in the theater when I was four, and I lasted a full 15 minutes before I got scared and started crying. I don't think my dad has forgiven me. Anyway, I like it better now.

Stop Making Sense - David Byrne's big suits were my first drag aesthetic, and the music. The weird, jittery, post-apocalyptic, transcendent music. Someday I will step into a suit and live in David Byrne's head.

Books

Neuromancer (William Gibson) - I read this the way it was meant to be read, at age fourteen, to impress the upperclassmen on the literary magazine staff. It felt prescient in the '90s, and now it's just uncanny. Gibson is one of those authors who doesn't seem like he turns much of a phrase, until you step back and see how immersive his worlds are.

The Unbearable Lightness of Being (Milan Kundera) - I pulled this off my parents' shelf in high school because it had a cool cover and read the whole thing while I was home with a cold. When I try to explain to people why I find it comforting to believe there's no afterlife, I wish I could hand them this book instead.

The Illuminatus! Trilogy (Bob Shea & Robert Anton Wilson) - More weird cult stuff that you have to read in high school or never. It's not... good? But it's great.

The Butter Battle Book (Dr. Seuss) - Every parent should teach their young children that the problem with war is that it's banal and nonsensical, and we can all do better.

Comics

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (Kevin Eastman & Peter Laird) - My friend got her hands on trades of the early runs of TMNT in middle school, and the revelation of this darkly satirical source text of the TV cartoon was a pop culture coming-of-age moment. It's about superheroes as people, and adolescents as people, and gentrification and marginalization and homelessness and family, and it made me want to move to New York immediately.

TV

Muppet Babies - My generation has collectively forgotten most of the cartoons we watched at 8 AM on Saturday mornings while building pillow forts and Lego spaceships with our little brothers, but we've all retained this one.

V - I watched this by accident on a hotel room TV when I was way too young for it, and it creeped me out and made me fall in love with sci-fi in ways that I was surprisingly ready for.

Theater

Sunday in the Park with George - One of the great works of art about making art, from the perspective that process is inscrutable but people are not. The score bangs on dissonant chords until the exact moment when you think you can't take it anymore, and then it opens up into beautiful, soothing melody just long enough to really fuck you up again. Assume that whenever you read my writing, I hummed "Look, I made a hat!" just before posting.

Music

The Pretenders - Learning to Crawl - Chrissie Hynde's voice is so sexy, and the songs are full of a uniquely Midwestern longing.

Robyn Hitchcock - I Often Dream of Trains - Side A is all pranking on Freud and Christianity, and side B finds things to have faith in, even if Hitchcock still sounds like he's snarling.

R.E.M. - Reckoning - Mostly mournful and lovely, plus two absolute bangers that are retroactive bi pride anthems.

Depeche Mode - Some Great Reward - I bristled at this in high school when I thought it was edgy (but too pop), then embraced it in college when I realized it wasn't that edgy after all (but stunning).

Madonna - Like a Virgin - I can perform an improv lip sync routine to any song on this album, on demand.

Prince & The Revolution - Purple Rain The best pop album ever made. I am not accepting criticism at this time.

[supercorpkid]

Let’s talk about Kara.

Supercorp, Kara Danvers x Daughter!Reader, Lena Luthor x Daughter!Reader

Word count: 2150.

It’s been two weeks since you’ve been back home from your ‘nearly death’ experience and things are almost back to normal. Almost.

You realize now you look a lot like Kara, and you’re not thinking about looks, but how things affect you. After Lena’s assassination attempt you went days having panic attacks, nightmares, having to sleep with your moms because you were scared, and developing mechanisms to get through the night. When you were shot with kryptonite, on the other hand, that didn’t happen. And now, after you almost died, things got rough at first, but you’re back to your normal life. Sure, you have to use a cast on your leg to justify your limping, and your powers are making a slow return, but you’re back at school again.

Lena has also gone back to work by now. It was a long period of not stepping foot on L Corp and things have not completely fallen apart, but they were very close to it when she came back. But Kara, well, let’s talk about Kara. She faced a lot of near death experiences, but none have affected her like you almost dying.

“Hello, my child, light of my days, star of my nights.” Kara says when you walk in the living room in the afternoon.

“You’re such a weirdo.” You make your way to the couch to sit next to her, she wraps you in a hug and you laugh. “What’s up with the Shakespearean talk?”

“Oh, you know, just want to make sure you know you’re the reason I exist.”

“I really am not. Grandmother Alura and grandfather Zor-El are.” You say with a smile still dangling on your lips and Kara smiles too, tightening the embrace. “Momma, ouch. Still don’t have all the superpowers, remember?”

“Sorry.” Kara kisses the top of your head a few times. “What do you want to do today? Should we do a Harry Potter marathon?”

You look at her expectantly face, and you give her a soft smile. You have tests you haven’t studied for, you have to catch up in almost every single subject from school, and you certainly can’t waste time re-watching a movie you’ve seen a bunch of times already. But you just take one look at her face, and you change your mind.

“Sounds awesome.” She matches your smile and soon enough you’re both wrapped up in blankets, eating snacks and reciting some lines from the movies you both know so well.

You should talk to her. It’s been weeks. She can’t go on like this. She picks you up from school every day, so you never have to walk alone (she makes Lena drive you there in the morning before work). She spends all afternoon practically glued to you, and she hasn’t slept in her own bed ever since you were back from the DEO. It doesn’t matter how many times you assure her that you’re fine. It doesn’t matter how many times Lena bribes her with hugs and kisses and other stuff, she doesn’t leave your bed.

All of her other responsibilities were tossed aside. No more CatCo, no more Supergirl calls, no more going out to buy food, no more anything. Kara is either inside of the house in her sweatpants, or with you when you need to be out of the house.

You can see Lena’s worried about her, but you know she is also still worried about you, so she hasn’t said anything to Kara yet. You don’t know what to do. You love your momma, you love having her with you all the time, that’s really not the problem. The problem is that you know this isn’t healthy. You were once obsessed with keeping Lena safe and that did you no good.

But Kara looks unhappy and worried, and your heart squeezes in your chest every time you look at her and think about telling her this has to stop. You look at her gasping next to you when Cedric dies, four movies into the marathon, and you can’t bring yourself to do it.

But the feeling grows bigger. It stirs you inside. When she lays next to you on your bed, and you watch Lena leaving for another night of sleeping alone, it grows a little more. When you see her eating cereal with chocolate syrup, because there’s no more milk and she doesn’t want to go out to buy more, it grows a bit more. When you have to go to school half an hour earlier than your usual time, because Lena has a meeting and she can’t be late, it grows more. This can’t go on any longer. You have to say something.

“Hello, my fellow Hufflepuff companion, shall we remain doing our marathon?” Kara asks and you roll your eyes, before sitting in front of her on the couch.

“Maybe.” You hold her hands and she looks at you furrowing her eyebrows in confusion. “There’s something we need to talk about first.”

“Oooh. Am I in trouble?” She asks, making you laugh.

“Momma, I think it’s time for you to go back to work.” You say turning your face back to serious. “I’m fine.”

“I know you are.” Kara says, but her face says otherwise. “But we’re having so much fun here together, aren’t we?”

“We are. But you can’t stay home in your sweatpants and ugly socks for the rest of your life. Even I know that.”

“Uh.” She grunts. “But work is so boring and you’re so cool!” She pulls you in for a hug. “Besides, your mom’s a billionaire. She can pay for everything.”

“Yeah, but you’re an adult and you need to go back to functioning like one.” You hug her tight. “I’m not saying you have to get out there now, I just want you to know that I’m ok, and I’ll be fine when you do decide to go back.”

“Ok mommy, I got it.” She jokes and you roll your eyes while smiling. “You know what I’ve noticed? You only call me mommy when things are bad. Like when you’re scared or something.”

"That’s not true!” You try to defend yourself, but you know it is pretty much how it works.

“It is true.” Kara whispers and kisses your head again. “I like how you say mommy, I just don’t like that it’s always in scary situations.”

“Ok.” You let go of her and look in her eyes. “Can we make popcorn and watch Harry Potter, mommy?”

“YESSSSSS!” Kara cheers, clapping her hands and then raising them in a celebratory move. “I’ll make the popcorn and you put the movie. And I’ll be right back, my baby.”

Kara comes back with so much popcorn, you could feed an entire movie theater. You two get comfortable on the couch with lots of cushions and blankets and continue the marathon you started on the day before.

“Hi, my loves.” Lena walks in the living room after work and looks at you and Kara wrapped up in each other while sobbing. “Why are you two crying?”

“Dobby died.” Kara points at the TV and Lena chuckles a little. “It’s a real tragedy, ok?”

“I’m sure it is.” She says ironically. “Then I have something to make your days slightly better.”

“I doubt it, we had a pretty decent day.” You say and she shows you a box of donuts. You untangle yourself from Kara and stand up right away. “Oh wow, I stand incorrect. Thanks mommy!”

“Hey! I’m mommy! Stop throwing it around like it means nothing!” Kara complains pretending to be upset and you grab one donut from the box.

“Here mommy, have a donut.” You give Kara the donut, then grab another one from the box and offer it to Lena. “Here mommy, you can have one too.”

“Stop it!” Kara grabs you from behind making you sit back on the couch. She starts tickling you, making you laugh.

“Wait, why can’t I be mommy?” Lena asks sitting on your other side. She tickles you too. “I’m mommy!”

“You are not!” Kara replies, and her hands don’t stop. “You never once were mommy!”

“Exactly! I deserve more now.” Lena stops tickling you and she protects you from Kara’s hands making her stop. “Tell her, babygirl. Tell her I’m mommy and I’ll buy you more donuts.”

“You!” Kara hisses pointing at Lena. “Come on kid, tell her I’m mommy and I’ll buy you all the food your heart might desire.”

“What the hell?”

“Oh yeah, she’s being Shakespearean.” You look back at Lena. “Well? Aren’t you going to increase your payment?”

“You’re a mercenary.” She jokes and kisses your cheek. “I’ll go shower while you two finish the movie and then we can have dinner?”

“Sure, mommy.” You say making Lena chuckle and Kara complain.

“Hey! I promised you any food your heart desires!”

“Yeah, but you don’t have any money right now.” You point at your head. “Smart.”

“You know what? You just ruined mommy for me.” She pouts.

“Sorry, mommy.”

“God, you’re so freaking cute.” Kara’s pout is immediately gone and she grabs your face and smiles. “No, you didn’t. You can never ruin anything.”

On Monday morning when you walk in the kitchen you see Kara on her work clothes. You smile at her knowing what that means, and you can see Lena is also excited that she’s going back to work. She doesn’t seem excited herself, but you know she’s making an effort, so you’re really proud of her.

In the evening, you hear when she comes back from work, so you put the TV on mute and look back at the door. She throws her shoes to the side, along with her coat and purse, unties her hair and makes her way towards you while unbuttoning a couple of buttons on her shirt.

“Hey! How was your day?” You ask and she throws herself on the same couch you’re in, placing her head on your lap.

“I think half of my problem with today was putting on real pants.” She mutters and you give a soft giggle in response.

“Right. And the other half?”

“I didn’t get to hang out with you all afternoon.” She complains and you smile, playing with her hair.

“You’ll get used to it.” You tell her making her grunt.

“Why aren’t all people as nice as you are? Or fun? Or cool?”

“Or smart.” Lena adds, throwing herself on the chair in front of you and you turn to look at her, surprised you didn’t hear her coming. “God, I wish I could fire everyone in that building and hire you instead. Everyone was particularly stupid today.”

“As much as I am flattered, please don’t fire Aly. I like her.”

“Should we all just quit our jobs and stay home forever?” Kara says calling Lena with her hand. Lena goes to the couch you’re both in, and lays next to Kara, placing her head on your lap, too. You look down giving them a smile.

“I don’t have a job.” You’re still playing with Kara’s hair, and Lena grabs your other hand so you can do the same with her.

“You can quit school. Lena can teach you, and then you can teach me!”

“That sounds like an excellent idea.” Lena agrees, throwing her arms around Kara. “It can be just the three of us forever.”

“Please, don’t encourage this kind of nonsense.” You poke Lena’s cheek. “You know momma doesn’t need much to go completely nuts.”

“Hey!” Kara complains sticking her tongue out at you.

“I’m really proud of you, momma.” You stroke her cheek lightly and her face lights up when she hears that. “I know it wasn’t easy going back to work and wearing real pants. But the only way we can move on and forget all the nightmare we lived, is if we all make an effort to have our lives back.” You see Lena smiling, like you’re so smart she can’t believe it. “I get that it is easier hiding ourselves here in our little world, but the real world out there needs you. They need Supergirl saving them. They need Kara telling them the truth. I wouldn���t want to take that away from them.”

“Oh my God.” Kara wipes her tears and gets up from your lap to look at you. “What did I do to deserve such a great daughter?”

“I know, right?” Lena also wipes away some tears and you smile at her reaction.

“I love you mommy.” You kiss Kara’s forehead, and she kisses yours in return. “I love you mom.” You bend so you can also kiss Lena’s forehead.

“We love you kid. We really love you.” Kara says hugging you, and awkwardly Lena wraps her arms around both of your waists and smiles. “Rao, I love this family.”

You breathe relieved when you feel that finally things will go back to normal. It’s about time.

[bewitching-elizabeth-olsen]

Press: Elizabeth Olsen and Jurnee Smollett Compare Notes on Genre-Blending Acting and Advocating for Performers on Set

VARIETY: Neither Elizabeth Olsen nor Jurnee Smollett are strangers to having to really stretch their imaginations to dive into complex characters and even more complicated worlds.

Both have superhero films on their résumés: Smollett portrayed Black Canary in DC’s “Birds of Prey,” while Olsen stepped into Wanda Maximoff aka the Scarlet Witch’s shoes for Marvel’s “Avengers” franchise and then some — including Disney Plus’ first Marvel series, “WandaVision.” They are both now Emmy-nominated for projects that tasked them with jumping through time, blending genres and telling epic love stories (Olsen with “WandaVision,” Smollett with HBO’s “Lovecraft Country”). And, even though they are up in different categories (Olsen in lead limited series/TV movie actress; Smollett in lead drama actress), both of these shows are one-season wonders, leaving the performers and their audiences wanting more.

Olsen and Smollett dissected all that of when Variety brought them together post-nominations to talk about their celebrated roles and surreal playgrounds.

You both had a lot of magical or otherwise surreal elements to interact with on your shows. What did you actually have in front of you to react to on set?

Jurnee Smollett: We were very fortunate on “Lovecraft Country” because the whole VFX team worked so hard to create an atmosphere that was also practical in our space. I remember on Episode 3, the exorcism scene, we shot it over a course of three days and, while there was not a man in real life with a baby head on him, you’ve got the wind machines and the pictures are blowing and all the special effects makeup is being touched up. Atticus [Jonathan Majors] has pretty much turned into a rabid dog and I’m doing this spell with my ancestors and whether they were shooting behind us or shooting the elements, we were at our max capacity regardless because that’s just how we approach the craft. It was such a big sequence to shoot that that’s when the actor in you has to advocate for your instrument. I did go to the director and say, “Can you jump in and cross shoot Jonathan and I?” As an actor it is our job to shoot however many takes, however many angles you need, but then it is also our job to advocate for yourselves. And I love playing in this space because you get to use your imagination you get to go to crazy places. Because even while the practical elements are there; you get to go to crazy places. But I was grateful for the practical elements because it’s just so much easier.

Elizabeth Olsen: Did they have pre-viz so you knew what some of the supernatural elements looked like?

Smollett: With the Shoggoths they not only had a pre-viz for us, but for some of the scenes they had massive sculptures, like a dude standing there in a green suit with a Shoggoth head. The pilot we didn’t have this puppet, but by Episode 8, maybe we got more of a budget or something, but eventually we did get a puppet — which was really cool because you could see, “This is the moment his mouth is opening.” But also, Misha [Green], our showrunner, she just wants more blood, more dirt. She’d try to get them to blow spittle at us.

Olsen: That’s so gross!

Smollett: This concoction of Shoggoth spit, throwing it in front of this wind machine. I find the more practical stuff we have to work with, it just helps so much. And then there were the moments where it’s like, “No it’s just a green tennis ball and an X, and go.” How about you?

Olsen: For all those little things in the air and stuff in the ’50s, it was really important to our director [Matt Shakman] that we did everything ala “Bewitched.” It was all camera tricks, it was all wires. Our head of special effects had a lineage of a father who [did] special effects before him, and so puppetry and wire work and stuff like that were things that were already in his vocabulary, but we would have our special effect guys who are used to blowing things up and putting things on fire just balancing and making sure things aren’t swinging but they have to move. Even in the ’70s when she’s pregnant and everything’s in chaos, we really had a picture on the wall going in circles; they just figured out things with magnets.

When we were filming the finale, it was during COVID, during the fires last summer, and we shot Kathryn [Hahn’s] side at the beginning of the episode when she has my boys with her magic — we had to shoot them out because you always have to shoot the side with the kid out and also Kathryn was doing wires for the first time and of course it was with a corset and it was really hot and really bad air quality and so she had to be sent home by the medic at the end of the day. And so, on my side we were running out of days, and I think we had 35 minutes to shoot my side and my reactions to all of that, and there’s quite a bit of back and forth and throwing myself to the ground and hitting a different mark that will then stitch with the stunt double being pulled. I did a weird one-woman show sans kids, sans Kathryn. Our stand-ins were such a huge part of our show and I was so grateful to have them they’re reading lines with me, and our director, Matt Shakman, was like, “If you feel like you can’t do this, we’ll just do this tomorrow.” That gave an adrenaline rush to me and it just became, “I’m just going to do it.” There’s a lot of fear when you’re like, “Oh I don’t have the elements and I am on my own, literally.” But I’ve had to do this before and I’m just scared to do it because I feel stupid. But I already look kind of stupid — I’m shooting things out of my hands — so why don’t I just lean into it as full as possible and just do it and find it in some core, guttural space of desperation? That day was bizarre, but I was actually very happy that I didn’t put it off. I feel like sometimes as actors when there are things that make us nervous it’s like, “Oh we don’t have enough time to explore so let’s do it the next day if we can,” and then you’re in your head all night about it. And so, it’s nice to just do it, even if it feels silly.

Smollett: I’d imagine surrendering and using the fear and all that that you were feeling probably served you so well in it.

Olsen: And don’t you feel that, though? When you feel unsupported you just want to break down in tears and you’re not supposed to break down in tears or you’re not supposed to have those it’s those feelings in the moment, but there are other times where it is really useful and there’s something freeing about channeling it in some way.

Smollett: Yeah and it’s that word you just used: freeing. Being able to surrender — leap and the net will appear. And you’re right, if you would have gone home, you probably would have come back the next day and you would have overthought it. There’s something about using the adrenaline in that moment that I don’t think you can really teach an actor to do; it’s just experience. Because we go and we prep and we do all these things, and then you get to the set and there’s one distraction, two distractions, and those are the elements that just through experience you’ve learned to use.

But I have to say, when I was little, I used to go to sleep every night watching Nick at Nite and “Bewitched” was one of my favorite shows. I did not expect you guys, at all, to go to land of “Bewitched.”

Olsen: I didn’t either. I’m so grateful to it. I felt like I like forgot my body as an actor. You’re a very physical actor, so I feel like you probably don’t have that experience because you just seem so connected and free whether it’s on stage or doing action. And I really felt disconnected from my body until “WandaVision.” I was like, “Right, I have posture; I can walk; I have legs — all of these things are going to be telling the story and it’s period and so I get to move differently.” It’s been a while since I needed to create quite a different character, and it felt so good to wake up my body to the full character work.

Just watching you in the first episode on stage, I was like, “God damn, I want to feel that free on stage with a song and with an audience.” I’m a self-conscious actor when it comes to extras and things like that. There’s something about it where the crew’s the family, and with extras, I feel so vulnerable. And you seemed so at ease and in control and confident. It made you understand her fierceness and how fearless she was.

Smollett: Thank you so much! It’s so interesting that you point that out because, for me, singing in front of people terrifies me. It truly is one of the things that terrifies me the most. The thing about Misha’s writing is, she finds a way to teach you so much about a character in such a small amount of time. And in that first sequence we learn so much about Leti, from that fearlessness you talk about, the ease that she has in herself and in her person, but then you learn so much about her hypocrisy and the contrasting ideas that are at play inside. She’s a very complex one. In the scene with her sister where she’s talking about having dreams of pioneering into an all-white neighborhood in 1955, but she can’t afford to may for socks. [Laughs.] She didn’t come to her mother’s funeral, and yet she’s here yearning for some sort of family connection. And so, I just remember reading that and feeling so drawn to her and feeling like it’s a side of myself that I needed to unearth — there’s a Leti in me that I desired to actually be, but sometimes am not. And it’s interesting because through Leti, she really forced me to do so many things that I hadn’t done before and really become more fearless, become more unbound. It was just such a very cathartic experience for me.

Olsen: I felt that way with getting to do this sitcom comedy part. I felt like I was touching my childhood version of myself who was a ham doing children’s musical theater, who just who just like played for the laughs or whatever — that part that I don’t access at all, really, when filming. And Kathryn Hahn was such a force and Paul Bettany raised to the challenge, as well, of these comedic performances that were really physically funny. I started to get more comfortable — in the ’60s, ’70s, really got comfortable — and it was so much fun to touch that child that maybe was told too many times, “Oh, you’re such a ham” or you just felt like your big personality as a kid was not OK or wasn’t as appropriate. And so, getting to play with that was really freeing and very fun. As you were saying, there’s a release I needed to have, and through the comedy I was able to have it.

How did this sense of empowerment affect how you carried your own characters’ power? Was there something your character that inspired you to advocate for yourself or did advocating behind-the-scenes inform in-world behavior?

Olsen: I felt very lucky coming into this, because this is a world I know. And so, where my voice of advocacy came in was for actors who are coming into the world — like Teyonah [Parris], wanting to make sure that she had everything that she needed to understand where her character was going because this was a character that’s going to continue [and] if she had everything she needed for stunts. And then similarly with Kathryn, she didn’t realize there was someone who she could use to teach her hand gestures for her magic. And so, she was feeling nervous and lost, like, “How do I do this thing?” And I was like, “Oh, how do you not have that information!?” And then having a conversation with whom you need to on the crew up top and figure out how to keep everyone else feeling like they had everything they needed. And luckily, because this was a show with characters that Paul and I had before, the pieces came together and it was a situation where your voice is welcomed and heard.

From “Sorry For Your Loss,” the TV show I did with Facebook, I now have a producer voice that I can’t shut up. I now just need to talk to ADs a lot, and I need to talk to line producers a lot. I realize that I like having — especially if I’m No. 1 on the call sheet; if I’m a primary part — all of the information so I can understand why decisions that seem weird are happening, or else I’m going to get in my head about, “Why are we doing this this way? I just let people know that off the bat now because it makes me less of a control freak, having information. And it is a team effort and I think the actor’s value has changed in that in that respect. There’s a lot more opportunity for women to be vocal now, and so I’m just really seizing that opportunity.

Smollett: It was a very personal growing experience for me. It was time of transition [and] I’m still going through that transition in my life. In order to truly surrender and do the text justice, there was so much I had to bring to the altar every day to sacrifice. I remember talking to Jonathan about that, and he would refer to it as allowing your heart to break and hoping that the Holy Spirit would put it back together. She was essentially a woman trying to navigate her womanhood but she was never actually allowed to have a childhood. She was habitually abandoned by her mother and didn’t know her father and there’s something in that parental-daughter split that I found myself really relating to. Oddly enough like Leti, I was estranged from my father for years. He eventually passed away, really before there was that healing and so, oh man, it brought up so much shit with Leti. How does she see the world? She sees the world through the eyes of an abandoned child. With Leti, that made her overcompensate; with Jurnee, it made me shrink a lot. When you talk about that artist child, those of us who have been in this business for so long, you take on all the sensors. And I found myself just trying to love her a little more. One of the things I admired so much about Leti is this desire to love herself — this real desire to own herself unapologetically in a world that told her she was too Black and female, to exist in her entirety. It’s still a transition that I’m in, but I definitely feel so grateful to have been able to walk through some of that and navigate through some of that with Leti. But that’s, I think, the blessing and the curse of being an artist. You’ve got to be willing to bring your whole mind, body and spirit to it; nothing’s off limits.

Jurnee, the last time you spoke with Variety we were all assuming you’d get to return to this character, but now that HBO has said it’s not being renewed, do you have unfinished business with her?

Smollett: It’s no secret I’m heartbroken. I loved Leti and of course would have loved to continue playing her. But I am so incredibly proud of the work that we all created together — it feels so special and unique — and I am finding peace in that. We’re artists and there’s an endless well that dwells inside us— and there’s so much that’s out of our control. And I think I’ve done this long enough and I’ve experienced enough heartbreaks to know you don’t get attached to the results too much; you just try to stay in a moment. And I feel just so proud and blessed to have been chosen to go on this ride with these collaborators, so I am more so in the place of gratitude than loss.

On the other end of the spectrum, “WandaVision” was a limited series but Wanda Maximoff is a character you have been coming back to for years, Elizabeth. How do you approach that longevity — the changes in her, the changes in you and the interest in revisiting her at all?

Olsen: I’m 32 and I was 25 — so seven years ago — when I did the first one. There’s so much change that I’ve had, even as an actor and how I approach work and, I think, honor work so much more in the last five years, four years of my life. [Jurnee’s film] “Birds of Prey” feels like such a female-empowered thing, so I feel there’s a really incredible energy to beginning it, but then with me you hear people make comments about Marvel movies and it affects your own process. “WandaVision” really shook that up for me and made me reinvest.

Smollett: I so want to know your process with that because the comic book space was new for me. I’d been a fan; I’d seen all your movies and the other movies. How did you navigate all of those voices? Because they can be very loud.

Olsen: Luckily and also frustratingly my character was always this emotional anchor to a piece of the story. It was like the heart, if there’s a heart. Paul and I were the only romance that was really fleshed out in those movies. And so I just treated it like I would anything. And then, we have a really fun time filming “Avengers” And so it’s really goofy and the Russos are great. And so we, it feels light-hearted, and it feels like we have the last laugh at the end of the day. But when it comes to the reinvesting, that’s the whole mind game, right? Because you just hope that it continues to have this quality control, but the more the more things get made, you’re worried about that. Especially because I did a show on Facebook that was scripted, and I didn’t love the way they handled it. And it was hard. And so second season, we went back and we literally, as a team of producers, had meetings with people who ran Facebook Watch about where we thought they could improve. We had a whole presentation for them. And then eventually, they were like, “We’re not doing scripted anymore.” And so I didn’t have the greatest experience being a part of the launch of another streaming service. And so, the Disney Plus part made me nervous and then bringing these characters that are so big to television made me nervous. But Kevin Fiege explained to us that that they were not going to cut corners, and they’re going to try and create the same attention to detail, and they did. And I think it was really important for them to have that care for these first three shows that they were putting out because it was defining a new thing for them. And so, we were taken care of.

I think more for me with this with the reinvestment moving forward, I never had a six-movie or nine-movie thing; it was always two or three at a time — those were my contracts. And so, it’s always a really conscious decision. I wrapped “WandaVision” on a Wednesday and flew to London on a Friday to continue playing this part [in “Doctor Strange 2”]. I could have used getting out of the mindset, though, because they were totally different utilizations of the character and people would have had more time to understand “WandaVision” had we not just wrapped. And so there’s just a lot of, “We covered this in ‘WandaVision…’” It’s bigger than me, there’s lots of threads that are continuing on after me that I’m not aware of, and so it’s always about, “What can I get from this journey with this character that maybe I haven’t tapped into yet with her?” That’s where I keep approaching things from, so that I feel like I have some sort of strap-hang — that I can know that there’s going to be growth of some kind, even though it all maybe looks the same to other people. There is that conscious decision to learn a new element of this woman, or even of myself as an actor — something that I want to explore that I can bring to it.

Your passion for acting is apparent and you both produce as well. What about directing?

Smollett: I would love to one day. I find myself currently being incredibly excited about producing and ushering new voices and excited voices. I don’t know that I would want to direct myself — that’s a whole other skill. I remember watching Denzel Washington, who directed me in “Great Debaters” but he was also in it, and at that point he had such a command of his instrument that he was able to do that. But it’s a lot. And I remember him telling me, before directing himself, he went and made himself watch all his films just so that he could stomach this idea of watching himself in the editing room. And so, I love the idea of storytelling; I’m obsessed with just telling stories, but I don’t know that I would self-direct.

Olsen: I find myself still loving producing so much because I love asking questions and poking holes and thinking about reorganizing of storylines, things that I feel maybe need more structure. I loved writing essays in school so much; it was like something that I found creative because it was about putting so many different sources into a braid that could maybe create this larger conversation or thought at the end. And so, that’s how I look at scripts. That’s really satisfying enough for me, to play that role. I think one day I’ll think about it more honestly, what it what it would mean to be a director. I fear that if I were to do it anytime soon, I wouldn’t have the tools that I would want. I do ask lots of lens-y questions because I’ve really only been working for 11 years and only recently have I tried to really understand the art of what lenses to choose and why and what it makes an audience feel based on what you’re choosing. I want to have a better, more holistic understanding of [that] before attempting [directing] because I do think it’s such an art and just because I understand the structuring of a story or how a set works, I want to be able to provide the the image in my head. I don’t know if I have that skill yet, but I am curious about feeding it and nurturing that.

Press: Elizabeth Olsen and Jurnee Smollett Compare Notes on Genre-Blending Acting and Advocating for Performers on Set was originally published on Elizabeth Olsen Source • Your source for everything Elizabeth Olsen

[is-it-madness]

Metal Fingers

A/N 1: This fic is for my lovely beta/bestie @wowjeena Heyyo, would you be up to writing a soulmate au with Bucky? You can choose which type of soulmate au but can you make the reader a normal person (so not an Avenger or anything related)?? Thanks girl and if you don’t wanna that’s chill 👉🏼👉🏼 So... it’s not exactly a soulmate au, but I hope this is okay instead ☺️💜💜 I’m also so sorry it took so long. I hope you like it, my dear.

A/N 2: The Bucky Barnes Exhibit states he was born in 1916, but at the bottom where it gives his life span, it says he was born in 1917. I googled it to find the correct year, and it said 1917… I don’t know what to do with that information, other than to tell you guys there’s a mistake in the movie. 

A/N 3: I apparently couldn’t make this a one shot, so it’ll be a multi part story. I’m aiming between 3-5 parts

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x single mom!reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1.5k+

~~~

Part 1

A Fallen Comrade.

James Buchanan ‘Bucky’ Barnes

Born in 1916, Barnes grew up the oldest child of four. An excellent athlete who also excelled in the classroom. Barnes enlisted in the Army shortly after the attack on Pearl Harbor. After winter training at Camp McCoy, Wisconsin, Barnes and the rest of the 107th shipped out to the Italian front. Captured by Hydra troops later that fall, Barnes endured long periods of isolation, deprivation and torture. But his will was strong. In an ironic twist of fate, his prison camp was liberated by none other than his childhood friend, Steve Rogers, now Captain America.

Reunited, Barnes and Rogers led Captain America’s newly formed unit, The Howling Commandos. Barnes’ marksmanship was invaluable as Rogers and his team destroyed Hydra bases and disrupted Nazi troop movements throughout the European Theater.

He knew these words. He read and reread them dozens— if not hundreds— of times. He wrote them down in every one of his notebooks as he was scrapping, searching for his memories that were just out of his reach. He could nearly taste them. They fluttered teasingly in front of him: close, but not close enough for him to snatch out of the air of uncertainty. 

He pulled a fresh notebook from his bag and a pencil, worried away from teeth and words. 

Start with what you know…

My name is James Buchanan Barnes. I was taken captive by Hydra and was used by them. I know a man named Steve. He was my friend.  

He trailed off. This is where he always was left floating in a sea of not knowing. He was left grasping for more. He was a starved man, empty without his memories. The few he managed to uncover did little to tide him over from insanity. He bit at that familiar indentation on his pencil, trying to think of something, anything at this point that was more than those four simple sentences he’s written everyday for the past several weeks. Sighing and pulling his baseball cap lower in frustration, Bucky returned his supplies to his bag, stood, and swung it over his right shoulder. Eyes low, and clutching his bag, Bucky made his way towards the exit of the crowded museum. Ever since the Potomac, this section of the Smithsonian was more packed than usual.

Nearly there. Nearly there. 

It was an understatement to say that Bucky Barnes didn’t like crowded areas. Too many bodies, pressing, and pushing against each other, loud noises, pointless conversations discussing mundane things. 

Nearly there. Nearly ther—

“Oof!”

He wouldn’t have noticed the boy that ran into him if his bag hadn’t slipped from his hand, spilling out the contents onto the floor. Bucky hurriedly crouched to retrieve his precious memories. He barely registers the boy picking up the items that had strayed a bit further. 

“Here you go Mister! I’m sorry for bumping into you like that.”

Bucky silently takes his belongings back from the little boy standing in front of him. 

Bucky unintentionally begins to analyze him.

Probably seven or eight. Bright eyes. Tousled hair. Skinny. Doesn’t clear 100 pounds soaking.

He shakes his head. Stop. No more. 

“Whoa, cool! Metal fingers!!”

Bucky quickly retracts his fingerless-gloved hand.

The boy pulls his hand from his sweatshirt pocket. “Yours are cooler, but I have metal fingers too! Well, actually it’s a metal arm because the doctors had to get rid of my real one because I got hurt super bad, but I think it’s really cool.”

The boy said this all extremely fast, Bucky had to blink a few times to register what he had said. A compliment? For his hand? A hand that’s maimed, killed, and caused so many people to suffer?

“Uh… I… I have a metal arm too.”

The little boy’s eyes widened even more. He wasn’t sure what made him do it, but Bucky took off his glove and showed it to the boy.

He took Bucky’s hand in his and stared at it, looking back and forth at Bucky’s hand and his. Bucky stood there stiffly, unsure how to respond. The boy looked up at Bucky solemnly.

“Do you have super powers?” he whispered. 

Bucky couldn’t help but crack a smile at his seriousness, but before he could answer, a woman came running through the crowd.

“Noah!”

The boy turned to give her a lopsided grin. “Hi Mom!”

“How many times have I told you to stay by my side, young man?”

The boy, Noah, dropped Bucky’s hand and took a step closer to the woman. “Sorry. But Mom!”

A raised brow silenced Noah. The woman looked up at Bucky.

“I’m so sorry if he was bothering you. He’s very social.”

Bucky forgot how to speak for a minute. The woman standing in front of him was… well, he’d never seen anyone as beautiful as her. Bright, sparkling eyes confirming where Noah got his from, a soft voice, and a sweet smile.

“Oh, uh, no. I mean, he is. I mean‒” When was the last time he had gotten tongue-tied?

Bucky cleared his throat, forced himself to try to ignore the sweet smile that was widening, and tried again. “He wasn’t bothering me. We were just talking about‒”

“His metal arm! Look at it, Mom!” Noah hurries back to Bucky’s side and holds his mechanical hand. “Look how awesome it is! And it’s huge!” He started poking Bucky’s upper arm and gasps. “And so are his muscles!! I bet he could crush anything!”

Noah began miming picking up heavy objects or crushing imaginary things, complete with sound effects. Bucky doesn’t miss Noah’s mother’s eyes widen slightly when Noah pointed out how massive his biceps are.

“Noah, honey, why don’t we go check out the exhibit?”

“Oh yeah! Let’s go, Mom!” He nearly takes off again before giving his mother a sheepish smile.

“What did you do?”

“I… I turned our map into a paper airplane.”

“And?”

“And... it… flew out of my hands?”

“Mm hmm. I see. Well, I guess we’ll just have to come back another time.”

Noah gasps and clutches his mom’s hand. “No! Please Mom! Don’t do this to me!!”

Her laugh causes Bucky’s heart to skip a few beats, and it frustrates him that he doesn’t know why.

“Which exhibit are you looking for?”

Noah looks at Bucky and salutes. “We’re here to see the Mister Captain America exhibit.”

“I could take you guys there.”

What. On earth. Gave him that idea?!

“Woo! Let’s‒”

Noah’s cheer was cut off by his mother. “Oh, no that’s okay. I’m sure you’re busy and you probably have something to get to you.”

She’s right… Why did I even offer in the first place? I can’t‒

“It’s not a problem. I was heading over there right now actually.” 

Jesus! What’s wrong with me?

Noah grabbed his mother’s hand and followed Bucky to the famed exhibit.

~~~

“So, I take it Noah’s a fan of the Captain?”

The beautiful lady standing next to him nodded. “Yeah, Noah loves him; really looks up to him.”

“Makes sense, he’s a good guy.”

“Sounds like you’ve met him before.”

“You could say that.”

They were pulled away from their conversation when Noah ran up to them, grinning.

“Mom! Look how skinny Steve was! And, and his friend? Um… Bucky? Yeah! Bucky! He would always help Steve out because Steve would always get in fights! So Bucky would come and have to save him!” 

Noah then proceeded to animatedly tell his audience how Steve became the Captain and fought in the War. When he went to go read the display in front of Steve’s motorcycle, Bucky turned back to the woman.

“Is this his first time here?”

She nodded and smiled. “I promised I would take him when I had a day off. He’s been waiting for weeks.”

A pause.

“How ‘bout you?”

“What?” Damn that smile! He got distracted.

“I take it this isn’t your first time here?”

“No, ma’am.”

Her giggle caused his firm expression to slip into a small smile.

Bucky spent the rest of the afternoon showing Noah around. He learned that Noah and his mother had been in a terrible car accident two years before. The injuries Noah sustained to his right arm were irreversible, thus leading to an amputation, a prosthetic arm, and even though she didn’t say, expensive medical bills burdened on his mother.

When the museum closed, Noah was asking his mother when they’d be able to return.

“I’m not sure baby. How about next weekend?”

Noah did a little dance showing his affirmation. Then he looked at Bucky.

“Will you be here too, Mr. James?”

“Uh, yeah sure kid. I’ll be here.”

Noah fist pumped as his mother said goodbye to Bucky.

~~~

Holy shit. Holy shit! 

You had been trying to keep your cool ever since you found Noah with James. You were eating dinner and you still hadn’t gotten over him. That man was fucking stunning. Blue, blue eyes that were filled with such sorrow, a smile that made your insides flutter, and a deep voice you were willing to listen to for hours on end. Soft and sonorous. And he was so sweet and kind with Noah. That alone had you taking a liking to him.

“Mom?! Mom!”

“Oh— sorry, baby. What’s wrong?”

“Thanks for taking me to the museum.”

You ruffle his hair. “Thanks for being so patient for me.”

He smiles as he shovels pasta into his mouth. 

~~~

My Ride or Die:

@lehuka123 @thejournalman @myraiswack @loki-yoursaviourishere @rebloggingeverything @just-the-hiddles @confetti-its-an-imagine-blog @thehumanistsdiary @fanfictionaries @astheworlddturns @bbarnestan @buckyfan12

[glenncoco4]

Tell Me More

A/N: Got this idea from What I Like About You. Takes place right before “All In.”

••••

It’s been a long and emotionally confusing day to say the least and seeing as though she has about an hour and a half before her partner picks her up to go ice skating with the guys, the brunette leans her head back against the cushion and closes her eyes, hoping that a little rest will bring her some clarity. 

She’s suddenly aware of the blaring car horns around her. Her brow furrows, wondering why she’s in the passenger seat of her car when the sound of his voice draws her to the driver side. She’s met with a mop of golden blonde hair moving up and down in sync with his head as it bobs to the unrecognizable tune coming from the radio. The smile that spreads to her lips can’t be helped as she leans her head back against the head rest, watching as her enthusiastic partner gains the attention of a little kid in the car next to them.

He clearly knows he’s being watch by the small boy and begins getting more animated in his movements as he belts out the lyrics to what she now recognizes as Donnie & Marie. She can feel the warmth in her heart grow, it’s familiar but there’s something more to it this time.

“You’re in love with him.”

The heat rises to her cheeks as the unsuspecting voice that she hasn’t heard in awhile states the obvious even if she is still in denial. “Oh my god, so not.”

“Baby girl, look at me. Look at me.”

She whines, her shoulders deflating as she turns her head to look in the middle back seat and is met with two chocolate orbs that she’s seen more in her dreams than she ever did in real life now. “What?”

The former marine can see she’s trying to hide whatever she’s feeling in those mismatched chocolate orbs that he misses so much, its one of the things that he wishes she didn’t take after him. The one thing he would tell his younger self is to love more, to fight for her mom like he should’ve all those years ago. He doesn’t want his little girl to make the same mistake he did. 

“You’re in love with him and he’s in love with you. I’ve been watching you two since the first moment you met.”

“Oh, please, just because you’re dead, suddenly you’re all intuitive?”

He huffs a laugh, one thing that he’s noticed ever since the shaggy blonde entered his daughter’s life is how freer she seems. Like the weight of the world isn’t resting on her shoulders as much with him around. “That’s right. It also helps that I’m your father and I know you better than anyone…well maybe not anyone.” He glances at the man in the driver seat as he continues to sing at the top of his lungs before turning back to look at his girl. “Now tell me, what are you afraid of?”

“Sharks, bears, leaving the house with the flat iron on-“

“Getting your heart broken?” He finishes.

“No…yes.”

A sad but knowing smile crosses the older man’s face. “Well I’ll tell you what, sweetie, get over it. Being in love with someone who loves you and not go for it just because you’re scared…” He shakes his head. “Ah, trust me, you’re gonna miss out on an awful lot.”

“But you haven’t had every guy walk out on you.” She can feel the tears forming in her eyes. Confessing her fears to someone, let alone one of the men who through no fault of his own walked out on her is a little nerve wracking. Having people stay in her life has never really worked out for her. After her dad died the only person that she had let slip through ended up leaving her. 

She’s known as the best first date girl in town for a reason. Never giving another man the opportunity to walk out on her has been her life for so long that when Deeks showed up and shook her world it knocked her on her ass. Looking over at said man, she can feel her heart pick up speed as he flashes her a smile. 

“Kens. Hey.” Her attention is drawn back to her dad as he leans forward, resting a reassuring hand on top of hers that sits on the center console. “Did you ever think that if they didn’t, you wouldn’t’ve ended up with Marty?” Squeezing her hand, a small smile crosses his face. “When it’s the right guy, he won’t leave.”

Summer loving had me a blast

Summer loving happened so fast

I met a girl crazy for me

Met a boy cute as can be

Summer days drifting away

To, oh, oh, the summer nights

He turns towards her a smile on her face knowing that she knows what’s coming. “Well-a well-a well-a, huh!”

Her head falls back in laughter as he emphasizes the a guttural huh followed by raising his voice to mimic the next versus.  

Tell me more, tell me more

Did you get very far?

Tell me more, tell me more

Like does he have a car?

As he’s shimmying his shoulders everything starts to fade away. The sudden shaking of her shoulders startles her awake, bringing her face to face with the man of her dream, quite literally. 

She takes in his appearance and is confused by the grin on his face. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You were singing show tunes in your sleep.”

“Well, it’s your fault.”

“How is it my fault?” His brow furrows, not seeing her logic.

“You made me go to all those damn shows.” She stands up, grabbing her vest to put on all the while trying her hardest to not make eye contact with him. No need to let him see the sudden panic in her eyes.

He shakes his head, there’s no way he made her do anything. “Oh-ho-ho, you and I both know that nobody makes Kensi Blye do something that she doesn’t want to. So admit it.”

“Ad-admit what?”

“Admit that you love show tunes.”

She stops her nervous movements right then as she remembers what her dad said. Stepping up to him, closing the distance between their bodies, she leans forward, her lips but a breath away from his ear. “Did you ever think that I wasn’t going for the ‘musical theater experience,’ that maybe I was going for something else?”

His legs turn to jelly as her warm breath fans across his ear and her body presses up against his…the scent of lavender and sunshine and gunpowder and all the beautiful things he loves hits his nostrils at once, and just as quickly vanishes when she sidesteps him and heads for the door.

“Come on, Shaggy. We have things to do.” A hint of a smile crosses her face when she suddenly feels the courage she’s been searching for for so long wash over her. The clear affect her actions had on him doesn’t hurt either, she knows its time…time to be bold.

[theangrycomet-art]

Early Mornings at the Atoms

Kaiden stirred, a drowsy fog over his mind as a familiar- but nevertheless strange- sensation drug him from his sleepy mindscape. Moist but not wet sandpaper rasped along the bottoms of his feet, wiggling in between his toes.

Blinking, his brain slowly registered that is was coming from not one, but three separate areas.

“ARrgh- BLT!” He griped, exasperated as he pushed her fuzzy heads away with a slobbery foot. “GROSS.”

BLT jumped back a step, unperturbed.  Bacon yipped, Lettuce nipped, and Tomato yawned at him as she stretched, tail rattling with excitement. Lettuce grabbed at his pajama pants, tugging them. 

She snorted as he pushed her away again. 

“Knock it off,” he groaned tiredly, burying his face in the pillow. Too soft, as usual, he felt as though he were drowning in the bed. Thinking of his quilt at home, he glared at the comforter covering most of him, slinking his foot back underneath. 

Maybe he could just stay in bed until the Weekend had come and gone. 

Patting the space beside him, BLT hopped beside him and launched off the bed. Running circles, her claws clacked loudly against the floor. Her barks echoing a bit against the bare walls, she slid to a stop beside his door. 

Nosing at the desk chair situated beneath the door handle, she whined, licking at the brass door knob. 

So much for that. 

“I’m coming.” Sitting up, he palmed at the night stand, waiting until his glasses clicked in his hand. With a yawn he shoved them on his shirt, not bothering with putting them on. 

Wasn’t like there was anything he wanted to see in this house beside BLT.

Kaiden tried to ignore the tightening in his chest as the sounds of the house made it to his ears. 

With a low whine, BLT exchanged a look between her heads before meandering over, nosing his leg. Smiling weakly, he scratched at the base of her neck.

His body at this point decided that it was in fact awake and that it needed to be tended to. He groaned again, cursing the near empty water bottle on his nightstand as he shuffled his way across the floor. 

BLT’s saliva made his feet sticky against the flooring, but he didn’t particularly mind. It was just some sealed stone, just like the rest of the house. It’s not like it would stain or anything. 

Moving aside the simple wooden chair, BLT wriggled in excitement, tail rattling as he unlocked the door. Once it was open, she still. Poking her heads out, Bacon looked left, Tomato looked right, and Lettuce checked the ceiling. When she’d decided the hallway was safe, she trotted happily to kitchen. 

“Good girl.” He said, trying to ignore the conversation from the opposite end of the hall as he closed his door, locking it behind him.

Feet padding silently, he forcibly steadied his breath as BLT waited for him at the kitchen entrance. The scent of caramel coffee drifted along the air, almost too sweet on his nose. She waited until he was nearly at the entrance before checking the room, same as she did the hallway. 

He managed a smile- 2 in one morning, that had to be a new record- and followed after her as she signaled the clear.

“Morning, Mr. Grim.” Relaxing, Kaiden waved at the skeleton reading the news as he sipped his coffee. How he did so without lips, much less a digestive system alluded him. However, he did not have to figure out the visual conundrum, seeing as the great Grim Reaper had his human disguise on. “Hair cut?”

“Very funny.” He said dryly, though his teeth flashed him a wry grin as Kaiden rummaged through the cabinets for some plain coffee. Flicking, the tied back dreads, he mused. “But I do think I like the new look.”

BLT sat next to him hopefully, eyes large and pleading as she begged for some eggs.

“I like it- it suits you better than the last one.” Poking his head from behind the wooden door, Kaiden held his chin theatrically, amused. “It’ll be a real hit with the ladies.”

“Oh hush and enjoy your nasty black coffee.” He chastised, smiling as he flipped out his newspaper. Watching him out of the corner of his eyes socket, his smile faltered, staring at the inky marks splattering up the young mans neck.

Frowning, he opened his mouth, before shutting it with a clack of teeth. 

No, better wait him out. Neither Kaiden or KD liked being interrogated. They’d come to him eventually. Still, if he was right, he should say something. 

“Any plans?”  He asked instead, assessing the boy as he punched the little plastic cup of grinds into the machine.

Tomato licked Grim’s knee as Lettuce and Bacon had yet to take their eyes off the plate.

“Just practicing evasive maneuvers, as usual.” Kaiden answered with a strained cheerfulness. The coffee dribbled out just as he slid his mug beneath. Glancing at the silver machine, he frowned at his reflection before adjusting his shirt higher up his neck. “You?”

“Dunno- it’s my day off. I might have me some fun.” 

“Good luck. Bon Bon has plans and I’m pretty sure your gonna be dragged into them if you aren’t fast enough.” His voice echoed as he brought the mug to his lips. “BLT, no begging. What do good doggies do?”

BLT whined and begrudgingly spun in a circle until she was facing Kaiden. Sitting with poise, she lifted her paw and tilted her heads cutely. 

“Good girls.” Smiling, he reached into his pocket and pulled out three bone-shaped biscuits, tossing one to each head.

“Blegh.”  Glancing at the hell hound, Grim sighed and split his remaining eggs into three. “Here, you mutt. I don’t have time for them if I’m gonna avoid that brat’s chores.”

Rattles filled the air as BLT’s tail helicoptered, taking the eggs with abandoned glee. Kaiden chuckled as he made his way out of the kitchen. 

“If you rinse that off I’ll wash it later,” he said as Grim straightened, popping his back. “You get out of here while you still can- I’ll stall Pinky and the Brain for as long as I can.”

“You’re such a good kid,” Grim watched Kaiden wave his hand in acknowledgement as he made his way down the hall. Once out of sight, the bringer of death kneeled down to the hell hound. 

“Keep an eye on him,” he ordered, scratching each set of ears before he took the plate back, rinsed it off, and made his escape.

Kaiden, for his part, surpressed a groan as he made his way down the narrowish pathway, all too familiar voices teetering down the hall. He ignored the pictures along as the bored holes into his back, gripping his mug tightly. Taking a sip, he let the drink burn his tongue as he made his way to the bathroom. 

Kaiden’s nose pinched at the scent of espresso and the ever current smell of ancient algae that came with Drake’s presence. It wasn’t his fault, and Kaiden knew he did his best to cover it and that most people couldn’t even detect it. But with his sense of smell, it was all Kaiden could do some days to stand near him. 

Making his way to the doorway, he raised an unimpressed brow at the spectacle. 

“For the last time if you don’t put your nasty tentacles away I’ll make you.” Bonnie snarled. 

She had been up for at least an hour, seeing as her hair was in a presentable state as opposed to a frizzy rats nest. Headband keeping the orange strands in place, he glanced at the mirror to find her- surprise surprise- glaring at Drake. 

For his part, the Nergling remained understandably unimpressed by such sentiments as he sipped his coffee. Politely ignoring her, he continued getting ready, his tentacles handling trivial things such as brushing his hair and pulling up his pants as he reserved his hands for more important things, such as his caffeine intake. 

“Mornin’, Drake.”

The one holding up his hoodie perked up at seeing Kaiden. Drake whipped his head around to see his brother yawn, fangs flashing.

“Kay! Well this is a surprise!” He said in delight, handing over his cup to a tentacles, empty-handed now that his pants had been taken care of. “Normally you try and sleep the day away.”

“You mean hide away in his room.” Bonnie frowned suspiciously at her eldest brother.  

“Good morning to you too Bonnie, see you’ve woken up on the wrong side of the bed per norm.” He resisted the urge to slip into his customer service mode as he remembered something helpful. Sipping his coffee, he leaned in the door way, nodding to Drake. “Hey, do you still have that theater brunch thing at the Diner this weekend?”

“Uh- yeah.” Eyebrows flying up, Drake tilted his head in confusion, expression as exaggerated as ever. His tentacles paused, turning towards Kaiden. “It’s in an hour, why?”

Yeah Kay, why? He wasn’t really sure if it was KD or Kaiden chastising him. Swirling the dregs of his coffee, he scrambled for an answer that would keep him busy.  

“If you want I can drop you off-” Kaiden internally cringed as Drake lit up. 

“REALLY?!” Kicking himself, he watched him buzz with happiness. Fluttering around the bathroom, retreating tentacles knocked Bonnie into the counter. 

He was worse than a puppy with the zoomies.

Why on earth is he so excited for a ride on his bike? Marveling, Kaiden blinked wide eyed as Drake made incomprehensible noises. It was too early for this- and yet he had signed himself right on for it. 

Bonnie, for her part seethed. Smacking the tentacles out of her face, she crossed her arms, scarlet irises glaring up at him in spite of the step stool. 

“Since when do you offer rides on your stupid bike?” She asked bluntly, crinkling her nose.

God why can’t she be stupid? KD griped as Kaiden scrambled for an excuse. Luckily, he didn’t have too.

“Shut up!” Drake hissed at her. With an irritated huff, he continued, poking her in the chest. “It’ not stupid it’s dashing!”

Kaiden raised an eyebrow as Drake turned back towards him, continuing as though the exchange didn’t happen. 

“I would LOVE a ride.” Flashing a sharp smile, he glanced at his hoodie. “I just need to find the proper jacket!” 

With a giggle, he... there wasn’t another word for it, scampered off to exchange his clothes, nearly tripping on BLT in his rush.

“HISS!”

“Sorry baby girl!”

Scratching his head, Kaiden watched Drake disappear into his room, clothes being flung out into the hall way.  

“He is way to excited for 5 minute drive.” he deadpanned, before glancing at Bonnie, who continued her death glare. 

In spite of the concrete slab of dread settling in the pits of his stomach at the oncoming drive, he smiled at her around his mug. 

“Now, now, Bon Bon, don’t be jealous.” Her glare intensified as she began to sputter in outrage. Waving to her dismissively as he walked down the hall, he smirked. “Green isn’t a flattering color on you after all.”

“I am NOT jealous.” Stomping her foot, her stool toppled out from under her with a clatter. Yelping as she hit the ground, she scowled at the doorway as both her brothers chorused.

“This is why you don’t stomp on your step stool.”

“Oh when I get my growth spurt.” she muttered, pushing herself back up. 

[tanakavox]

Look into the multiverse

This is being crossposted from fanfiction.net. my react fic. This chapter reacts where done by @hasbrobear (sorry for tagging you two times in a row dude.) Enjoy. The rest will be up here soon.

Are you sure this is the right place?" Mercury asked as he, Cinder and Emerald were walking into a theater. In front of them Salem lead the group.

"Yes, it is. The coordinates are correct from Watts machine." She said as they entered and was met with another group. And a rather large one.

"RUBY!" Cinder said as she raised her bow and pulled her arm back and Emerald and Mercury got ready to fight as Salem sighed.

The other group consisted of Ozpin, Oscar, team RWBY and JNR. Who got in front of the two and pulled their weapons out. Then suddenly all their weapons vanished out of thin air.

"What the!?"

"My Weapons!"

"MY BABY!" Ruby yelled looking for Crescent Rose.

"My legs!" Mercury fell and Emerald started to laugh and covered her mouth while Cinder ran at Ruby who then raised her arms up to fight her. Then before they could reach each other, a light barrier comes between them. "What the!?" Cinder yelled as she roared and punched it. It just glowed.

Then the large screen begins to start, and the groups look at it. Both in confusion and curiosity. Salem decided to tell them. "Look, we have been all brought here o watch these…. Images of ourselves, why and how? I do not know, so unless you want to be forced out, you'll sit down and watch." She said as Ozpin said the same thing and they all sat to watch the large screen.

The scene starts start with Cinder Fall in a library, reading a book. A voice speaks out to her, but she doesn't turn to look, continuing to read the book.

"Cinder its you." Emerald said as Cinder merely looked at her other version, momentarily cursing herself as she looked better there than she did now.

Though the other side were more concerned about why Cinder was there, she could possibly be somewhere that can give her more power, and cinder with more power leads to more concerns.

"So, you're looking for the book of ancient Legends. The tale of the Dark knight warrior known as Ozma?"

"Ozma." Ruby said recalling the story that Jinn had told them about, she looked back at Salem who then looked at her their eyes connected, and she gave ruby a seething glare that made her yelp.

'Ozma as a dark knight huh? Rather flattering title.' Salem thought, just imagining her once love becoming an agent of evil, she shivered a little inside before looking at the screen more.

While Ozpin was more than intrigued about his other self, he had to keep a close eye for any key details in the screen that could help him better understand it.

The speaker steps into the light revealing Raven Branwen, her face having odd look marking on the side.

Cinder still does not turn to look at Raven and closes the book.

"Mom…" Yang said as she lightly glared at the woman, still mad about what happened at the camp, and at Haven. But she was wondering what those markings were as she narrowed her eyes.

"Hmmph, so this was the woman who supposedly slew you." Salem said checking if there were any key things on Raven, so far those markings were the only concern.

Cinder seethed looking at the branwen, wanting nothing more than to kill her.

"That's not what I'm looking for" She replied, placing the book back on the self. "Leave me."

'What is she looking for then.' Ozpin wondered as he was a bit curious about why Raven was there, and what Cinder could possibly want.

"Then what are you looking?" Raven asked, paying Cinder request no mind. The older woman frowns a bit.

"A Demon, that impregnates a woman, who then bears twins. A boy and girl. That is the story isn't it?

Cinder pulls her Kanata from its sheath and points it at Raven, still not having turn her gaze at the older woman.

"Ew…" Nora said a little grossed out about a demon actually doing it with a woman. Though in her mind she imagined it to be some sort of freaky Grimm creature.

Seeing her reaction Cinder raised a brow and so did Salem, it brought some suspicion to her character in the screen. They both had the same thought that this Cinder could be the twin daughter.

"Hmm not bad." Ruby said seeing Cinders Katana, She didn't like the woman, and seeing her weapon didn't like her much more, it was basic in her eyes.

"Leave me." She speaks softly. "I won't tell you a third time."

Some of them were getting a bit pumped and excited for a fight, like Nora and Mercury, though the others wondered what would happen between the two, they were both strong and in their last match Raven came out on top, could she do it again though.

There is a bit of silence as Raven look at the blade, seemly not affected by Cinder's actions. She grabs the blade with two of her fingers.

"People inherently fear evil. However," Raven began as she walked toward the young woman, not caring that the blade sliced her finger. Blood began to drip on the floor.

"Occasionally, a Person may become seduced by evil."

After Raven finished speaking, Cinder finally turns and looks at her, the amber eyed woman , her expression unreadable.

"Uhhh That's… Creepy." Nora commented as she saw how Raven was unfazed by cutting her finger on a long blade. Especially when she saw the blood drip down.

"That's… that's not what your moms like, right?" Blake asked a little frightened by the woman on the screen.

"No, but now I kind of glad she's like how she is." Yang replied while Cinder narrowed her eyes a bit, the raven on the screen must've been like her in a way. Wanting more power.

"What are you getting at?" She inquires, placing her blade back in its sheath.

"What!? No fight scene, no slicing or any action!?" Nora yelled as she wanted to see two enemies fight each other and hoped that Cinder on the screen would fall.

"Calm your beast Ozpin, some of us are trying to watch." Salem said smirking as she saw Nora's glare. She was easy to anger in this situation.

"Its alright Nora just ignore her." Ren said as Jaune nodded and calmed Nora down by patting her shoulder. The Valkyrie sighed and pouted as she sat in her chair.

Raven smiles a bit before responding.

"First… You must share with me the story of Ozma."

"Is anyone else confused, or is it just me?" Oscar asked as he had no idea what was happening in the screen, the others thought the same thing and were utterly confused, even Salem, and Ozpin didn't know what was going on, and one of them didn't like it.

The scene cuts and transitions to a shot of the moon. The sound of blade clashing against each other and as the scene continues there are two figures fighting on top of a large roofless building. As they fight Yang's voice is heard.

"You heard of it haven't you? The legend of Spadra. My father used to tell the story to my sister and I when I was young..."

Ruby and her group were surprised to heard Yang's voice come out and apparently it turns out that Ruby herself was also involved in the story as well.

As she speaks, the two figures continue to fight as it rains.

"Long ago in ancient times, a demon rebel against his own kind for the sake of the human race."

One of the figure's attempts to jab the other with their greatsword, the other parry and attack with a downward slice aimed for the shoulder with their blade. They jump out of the way.

"With his sword, he shut the portal to the demonic realm and sealed the evil entities off from our human world. But since he was a demon himself, his power was also trapped on the other side."

Yang's voice chuckles before she continued.

"I never believed it. I thought it was a child's fairy tale."

"Yeah. We thought fairy tales weren't real too." Jaune said as team RWBY and his team agreed. Ever since the Maidens, and other stories were actually real, they didn't know what to believe now.

The two opponents slice and swipe and each other landing the blows. Blood spills to the ground and is washed away by the rain as the two keep going despite this.

"But I discovered that this so-called legend wasn't a myth. Ozma existed."

Yang's voice wavered as she said it, as if she still couldn't believe that it was true.

"How do I know? Well…" She trailed off.

The two were lock in an exchange, sparks flying as the sound of blade clashing once again appeared. The one of their face's where finally shown and one was Jaune Arc.

"Hey look jaune, its you!" Nora said as she looked at her leader who was mostly confused about this,

"I met the children of Ozma… Both of them."

The second figure face was also shown. It was Cinder Fall from earlier.

"Though the blood the same blood of their father flowed through their veins, the two battle each other fiercely like arch enemies.

Cinder and Jaune's clash of blades became faster and fiercer to the point where their blades could not be seen as anymore but blurs. The two of them move fast enough that it seem like the rain had come to a standstill. They smacked their blade into each other and the shockwave from it made a small slash from the water on the ground. They were lock against each other, staring each other dead in the eyes.

Everyone's eyes widened when they saw and heard what Yang was talking about. "No way." Nora said as she realized that Jaune, and Cinder were siblings in this.

"Your kidding me." Cinder said as she looked at Jaune who just looked more annoyed and confused about the ordeal.

"It seemed as if they derived some sort of twisted pleasure from this sibling rivalry."

And true to Yang's words, we see that Jaune and Cinder are enjoying the fight as they both has smirked at each other. But then with a flick of her wrist, Cinder sends Jaune's sword flying away. And in that moment take her chance to impale her brother with her blade, driving into his abdomen a bit before yanking it out. Jaune begins to fall to his back.

"But in the end…"

Jaune lay on the ground of his back and Cinder runs her fingers through her hair, trying to dry it off.

"Only one was left standing"

"What!?" Ruby said as she saw that Jaune had apparently died. She like her other friends were pissed and gave cinders glares, while the fall maiden was passive about it.

Cinder goes to pick up Jaune's sword and walks away. As her brother tries to get up, she turns around. The scene cuts once again and is on a black screen. The only noise that can be heard is the sound of a telephone ringing. It then shows a room. There a drum set in one corner, a pool table in one, a jukebox in near a door that leads out outside. In the middle of the room was a desk and it had the ringing phone as well as a box of pizza. A shirtless Jaune shows up drying his hair as he walks toward the desk, he kicks the chair up to its legs, and as he sits down place his feet on the desk hard enough for the phone to launch up. He catches answering the call.

"Hey, look guys he's alive! Jaune your alive!" Nora said excitingly as she shook her leader and made him yell out as she and the others were glad their friend hadn't died. Meanwhile Cinder let out a groan seeing that he wasn't dead.

Though as they were relieved one girl among them had her cheeks dusted red when she saw Jaune's toned body on the screen and looked at the original before blushing more and turning to see what else would happen.

"Sorry, not open for business yet." Jaune throw the phone back on the stand, ending the call. He sighs and grabs a slice of pizza

"I haven't even picked a name for this joint and I'm already getting calls."

Raven enter the shop to see Jaune eating his pizza. The blonde stops eating to look at the red eyed woman.

"You a customer too?" He asked, looking annoyed. "Well, if you wanna use the bathroom help yourself. The toilet's in the back."

"I don't think she there for that." Nora pointed out while Yang focused on what she would do.

Raven pay him no mind and walk around the room, almost like she was a vulture waiting to strike.

"Is your name Jaune? Son of Ozma?"

Jaune turns and glare at the woman.

"Where did you hear that?" He questioned.

"Guessing he's still pissed about the stab."

Raven smirks and walk up to the desk with her arms behind her back.

"From your sister." She looks down and see the neckless Jaune was wearing. Raven look at it for a few seconds before continuing.

'Why was she look at the necklace so much.' Salem and Ozpin thought as they focused on her and the item of interest.

"She sent this invitation for you." She said. "Please accept it."

After saying that she flips the desk over, Jaune jumping as soon as she does. He lands on his feet and pulls out a pistol to shoot her, but she had all but disappear. The son of Ozma places his gun away, walking forward and catching the pizza box in his hand.

Yang groaned and crossed her arms annoyed. "She ran away of course."

"This jaune is very acrobatic" Blake noticed and said while Ruby drools over the guns, and more than just one.

"Invitation huh?" He mutters to himself. The demon hybrid goes to take a bite out of a slice of pizza but suddenly, several creature's wielding scythe appear and impaled the young man on them. Blood spilled on the floor.

"GAAAHHHH!/JAUNE!" Nora and Ruby screamed thinking jaune had died while the others on their side looked in shock.

Jaune then thrusted his palm forward, smacking the creature away from him killing it. The creatures look up to see the Son of Ozma twirling the mask that their ally wore on his fingertips. Jaune walks forward, with blades in his arms and legs, dragging along one of the creatures for a ride. Seemly not bothered by the implement. He goes over to the to his jukebox, kicking the demon he dragged along and grabbling a slice of Pizza. The Blonde rip a blade out of his chest and toss it up at one of his celling fans, causing it to fall on top of a few demon.

Everyone was shocked that Jaune is still alive and kicking. While Ozpin and Salem think that Jaune might be immortal like the grimm queen herself.

"This party's getting crazy! Let's rock!" He cheers and goes to turn on his jukebox, but it's doesn't work. He tries a few more time before slamming his fist into the jukebox hard enough to dent it and music starts to play, tapping his foot in tone with the music. Jaune goes on to take down the demon with ease, using the blades on his arms and legs to kill the demons. Using his guns Evory and Ivory to shoot them to bit, using one of the demons as a skateboard as he shoots the others while pass by. Grabbing his sword and flipping his pool table to shoot one pool ball and having it collide with all the other to smack the demons it the face. In no time the demons were defeated. Jaune look over his office with a frown.

They laugh at Jaune's attempts to turn on his jukebox. Jaune slumped a bit while yang smirked and patted his shoulder.

Then everyone Expressed their surprise that that how well he's able to fight while Ruby drools a bit over his gun skills and his sword.

"Damnit. Already wreck the place up and I haven't even named it yet. Cinder better pay up."

He smiles however and grabs his jacket.

"Well Cindy. I can tell this is gonna be one hell of a party!" He shouts kicking down his door.

Then as he moved the screen turned off. "'WHAT!? It can't end there!" Nora said as Ruby let out her own groan at the action being stopped.

The viewers in the theatre do take notice to the screen turns back on and a song plays. It seems like another is going to play.