#they got some coyote shit going on but it hides it very well. most of the time

[keymintt]

top ten worst times to remember your lover is part dog

[rebelwrites]

Can’t Fight The Moonlight

Jax Teller x Reader

A/N okay so I love this song, and just had to write something with it for Jax. BONUS POINTS IF YOU KNOW THE SONG AND THE FILM REFERANCE!!!

“So does Jax know?” Opie smirked resting his arm over your shoulder as you sat crossed legged on top of the bar.

“Bro what are you talking about?” You asking trying to play dumb, you knew what he was on about.

“Don’t play that act with me okay” He nodded “But I am guessing with your reaction you haven’t told him”

“Ope that was another lifetime ago” You shrugged. “I mean I haven’t done it since I left NYC”

Leaning your arm back on the bar you took in his expression. His smirk was wide, you knew that smirk, pinching the bridge of your nose you took a deep breath hoping he wasn’t going to do what you thought.

“Come on up” He grinned.

“Ope no I can’t” You huffed.

“Can’t or won’t” He winked before turning to Chucky giving him the thumbs up. “No stand up you shithead”

Glaring at your older brother, you hated him with every bone in your body right now.

“Jax” He shouted “You are gonna want to see this brother”

You and Jax had been dating for the past year now and things were going well. There was a reason you hadn’t told him about your life in NYC. Not because you regretted it, because you didn’t, you loved what you did and you were sad to see it come to an end but you needed to get out of NYCfor other reasons. Your brother needed you and family always came first. The reason you hadn’t told Jax about what you were about to do was because he was jealous, you knew this when you got together and you loved it. So you didn’t know how he would react.

“Shithead just keep this more on the pg side yeah” Ope smirked “I do not need to see the version you are used to doing okay, once was enough. Now stand up”

As he helped you stand on the bar, you took a deep breath as all eyes fell on you as the music started.

“Under a lover's sky, gonna be with you. And no one's gonna be around” You sang softly as you stood very still.

“Louder and move” Opie shouted making you laugh and stick your middle finger up at him.

“You think that you won't fall. Well, just wait until the sun goes down” You sang letting the music wash over your body as you sang louder “Underneath the starlight, starlight. There's a magical feeling so right. It'll steal your heart tonight”

You were in the zone now as you danced seductivaly to the music, singing your heart out. Striding along the bar making your way to Jax.

“You can try to resist. Try to hide from my kiss. But you know but you know. That you can't fight the moonlight” You smirked as you bounced down, pushing your knees out, taking your ball cap off placing it on Jax’s head, grabbing the sides of his kutte before you pushed your ass out as you stood up winking at him before you walked down the bar.

“Deep in the dark. You'll surrender your heart. But you know but you know�� Even though you hadn’t done this in about a year, you still remembered the song and you body remembered the dance, running your hands down your body, everyone was whistling and cheering you on. “That you can't fight the moonlight. No, you can't fight it. It's gonna get to your heart”

At some point Jax had joined you on the bar, a smirk played on your lips as you slowly walked over to him with an extra swing in your hips.

“There's no escape from love. Once a gentle breeze weaves it's spell upon your heart. No matter what you think, it won't be too long til you're in my arms” You sang loudly as you ran your fingers across his chest before placing your back against his chest, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Underneath the starlight, starlight. We'll be lost in the rhythm so right, feel it steal your heart tonight. You can try to resist try to hide from my kiss. But you know but you know. That you can't fight the moonlight”

Your hips were grinding against him and you heard a low growl come from him, well at least he was enjoying this, maybe one day you would show him the less tame version. Spinning around, you were slowly getting breathless as you weren’t doing this most nights anymore.

“Deep in the dark. You'll surrender your heart. But you know but you know. That you can't fight the moonlight” You sang hitting all the right notes, grabbing the sides of Jax’s kutte.

Waving you hand out behind you, you signalled Ope to cut the music.

“Shit darlin’ where did that come from?” Jax grinned gripping onto your hips bringing you closer to him.

“Told you I am full of secrets” You winked “Now can you help me down”

Jax jumped off the bar before wrapping his arms around your waist, lifting you off the bar.

“Thank you for keeping it pg” Opie laughed.

“Wait you mean there is a different version” Jax smirked, his eyes widening at the thought.

“Yuup” You nodded downing the beer that had just been passed to you.

“So where did you learn to do that?” Jax asked kissing the top of your head.

“Urmm” You said rubbing your forehead.

“Bro she was a coyote” Opie grinned.

“As in the bar in NYC” Jax asked, looking at you.

“Yeah that's the one” You nodded “I was a coyote for about 5 years, and before you say anything, it was a well paying job”

“Like I have the right to judge” Jax laughed “Do you miss it?”

“Every god damn day” You said bringing another bottle to your lips. “But that was another life”

“It doesn’t have to be” Jax grinned spinning you around in his arms “We have been looking into things we could do for legitimate business and I think I know what we are going to do, how about we buy a bar and bring the Coyote’s to charming”

“Don’t you need to vote on shit like that Jax” You whispered, placing your hand on his chest.

“Boys what do you say to a Coyote bar coming to Charming” Jax shouted, within seconds every was whistling and cheering again “See darlin it is unanimous, so tomorrow you and me will go premises hunting to find the right one and you will be in charge of everything, decor, the girls, everything”

“Jax” You whispered “You don’t have to do that”

“You have a talent darlin’ and it is something you love doing, I saw it in your eyes. So it would be a shame to keep your talent hidden, but maybe you tone your dances down a bit as I don’t think you want me punching every guy drooling over you”

“Deal”

SOA TAGLIST

@chibsytelford @talicat713 @corebore123 @nothingeverdies @teapartydreams @mrspeacem1nusone @khyharah @itmejado @beth-winchester21 @rocketqueen @auroraariza @trulysuccubus @haynsey @witching-hour @destynelseclipsa @edonaspanca @abbiesthings @enamouravecleslivresetlechocolat @jadesamhart @lady-pswrld @ly--canthrope @hennessyauntie @gemini0410 @i-love-scott-mccall @est11 @mystic-shadows42 @sugary-x-sweet @starrynite7114 @skyofficialxx @terminallygenius @lauraashley93 @leaalfred @angelreyesgirl89 @sheeshgivemeabreak @marquelapage @meteora-fc @penny4yourthot @justahopelessssromantic @ilikechocolatemilkh @mayans-sauce @xbreezymeadowsx @ben-c-group-therapy @-im-fantastic- @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @milaxmariex @cubblycie @little-diable @hotdamnhunnam @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead

[thiswasinevitableid]

11. Centaur Indruck (maybe specifically Duck) rating up to you

Here you go! I went with SFW, and a western theme just for fun.

It’s only May, but the desert air is hot and dry, will only get more so as the summer spreads across the mountains. The sun drives Duck to the stream running down the hill, it’s banks shaded by cottonwoods. Pa Newton sent him in search of flowers for the table; it’s Ma Newton’s birthday, and her husband is determined to make it perfect. 

“I only get so much time away from the mines, best make the most of it.”

Duck knows just what to pick. Lupines and Daisies will make the perfect bouquet. He spies a clump of daisies, lowers himself to the ground, taking care not to crush too many as he sits. There’s a scuff of rock as grey-brown dust lands on his shoulder. He looks up, expecting a jackrabbit or maybe even a deer, and finds a human staring down at him. 

The boy must be about his age, his pale hair falling about a face that’s as skinny as the rest of him. His clothes look fancy, which is at odds with the tear in the knee and smudges on his cheeks. Brown eyes are watery as they stare back at Duck, and he suspects his hands are over his mouth because he was crying and didn’t want Duck to hear him. 

“Uh, howdy.” He waves. Instead of waving back, the boy seems more alarmed. 

Maybe he’s never seen a centaur before?

Duck tries again, “You lost? I’m goin back up to town real soon, and if I can’t help you, my folks can.”

The boy sniffs, “I’m not lost. I’m hiding.”

“From what?” Duck gathers up his daisies, spots lupine near the rock where the boy is perching. 

“Other boys in town. I hate it here, hate how hard it is to breathe, hate the dust, hate how there’s odd things like centaurs and cactus cats out here-”

“Hey!”

The boy winces so intensely Duck regrets yelling, “Apologies. I just, I wish we’d never left the city.”

That explains the clothes. Duck, at eleven years old, knows very little about the town economy. But he knows that while the silver is found in the mines around his home, the money runs down hill to Carson City.

“How come you did?”

“Father got a new job at the bank. Why are you here?” He cocks his head. 

“‘Cause my family’s lived in these parts for six generations.”

“No, I meant by the water.”

“Oh. Uh, pickin flowers for my mama.”

“Don’t let the other boys see you. If they broke my glasses for drawing flowers, I don’t think they’ll be too kind to you.”

Duck shrugs, “I ain’t scared of them. And there ain’t nothin wrong with drawin flowers.” Bouquet finished, he stands, the boy’s eyes widening as he registers the differences in their shapes. 

“You wanna walk up the hill with me?”

“Yes, please.” 

As the trek back to the dusty streets of Virginia City, he learns the human is called Indrid, and that he’s much more talkative than his initial reticence implied. They’re mid discussion of the caterpillars Indrid is raising when they reach a fine, three story house. Indrid bids Duck good afternoon. Duck asks him to wait, takes a lupine from the bouquet, and tucks it safely into the buttonhole on his jacket. 

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

“Want some?” Duck holds out a biscuit from his lunch pail. Indrid takes it, scarfing it down in one go.

“Hungry?” Duck teases, sipping from his canteen. 

“Enough to eat a horse.” Indrid grins as his friend clutches his sides, laughing. He’d used the turn of phrase accidentally two weeks ago, then tried to cover it with a joke about only if the horse was willing, which only made his friend guffaw and wheeze harder. Now, whenever one of them needs to crack the other up, they mention eating horses.

They’re fourteen, and have spent the better part of the summer working on the Newton Ranch. Duck’s father, after a very close call in the silver mines, decided to extend his time above ground by running an egg and dairy supply for the town. Indrid convinced his father that it was good for a young man to earn a living with his hands during his youth, as it would make him strong and healthy. Mr. Cold, with a little assurance from Mrs. Newton that she would make sure the boys didn’t loaf about, agreed.Mrs. Newton is a woman of her word. Here he is wind-burnt and tan, sweat running down his back and callouses forming on his hands. 

He’d do double the work if it meant staying near Duck. Duck’s parents seem to suspect this, and some combination of them wanting their son to be happy and wanting to earn the good graces of a wealthy family leads them to give the boys time to rest or wander about the farm after dinner before sending Indrid on his way. 

It’s during one such evening circuit, on the far edge of the property, that Indrid finds a chipmunk burrow with his foot. The pain in his ankle sends him to the ground. 

“Ow.”

“Shit. Can you stand at all?”

Indrid tries it and sits right back down, “No. I guess we’ll have to go very, very slow on the way back so I can hobble, and pray another hole doesn’t take out my left foot as well.”

Duck flicks his tail, “I mean, if you wanna take all night, sure. But, uh, what if I give you a ride?”

Indrid blinks at him in the twilight. Riding a centaur is Not Done; the centaurs find it insulting, and humans view it as scandalous. 

“You won’t get in trouble, I promise, and I’ll go slow.”

He nods and the centaur kneels, the human clambering awkwardly onto his back. 

“Duck? Where do I put my hands?”

“Huh. Around my shoulders, maybe? Yeah, that don’t mess up my balance none.”

Indrid presses himself to Duck’s back, marveling at the strength in the muscles moving beneath him.

“You know” he murmurs into Duck’s hair, “I’m awfully tempted to say giddyup or some such nonsense.”

“You do and I’ll buck you off and leave you for the coyotes.”

“You can buck me anytime.”

Duck calls his bluff by giving the world’s smallest buck. Indrid yelps, then cackles into his shoulders as Duck trots forward, the two of them laughing into the desert night. 

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

“Blasted mosquitos” Indrid waves his sketchbook in the summer air. At sixteen, he’s taken to wearing red spectacles and black clothing. This style, combined with the sharp angles of his face, leads more than a few people in town to say he looks sinister. 

Duck thinks he’s dashing. Not that he spends much time looking, not at all. Indrid is such a constant in his life that he hardly notices the changes as they age. Except when Indrid smiles at him in a secretive way or when, as he did yesterday, he strips down to nothing for a swim in the river. 

“Maybe they’re mad you ain’t drawin them.” Duck reaches into the cool water, picking up several stones just right for skipping. 

“But I have. I used my magnifying glass to make a detailed sketch of one last week.”

“Jesus, ‘Drid, is there anythin you ain’t drawn at this point?” The stone skips five times

“Well….I haven’t drawn you.”

“You’ve drawn me plenty.” Six skips this time, not bad.

“I mean in the, ah, traditional sense.”

Ker-plunk

The stone sinks in one as Duck looks over at his friend. 

“You already have your shirt off. Even with the wrap gone, I, ah, I couldn’t see, that is, only if you want to.” He sighs, “I’m not expressing this well. What I mean is that you have the finest form of any human or centaur I know. I would like to capture it, try to do it justice. If, if you’ll let me?”

Duck stands, grabs the strap of the wrap covering his lower, “You’re hard to say no to, ‘Drid.”

“You can if you...need...to.” Indrid follows the fabrics path to the ground, then fixes his eyes on Duck as he lowers himself into a comfortable position. 

“This good?”

“Extremely.” The human’s gaze fights to stay clinical as it scans him, rough outlines of his body forming on the paper. Soon, Indrid is engrossed in the illustration, though whenever they lock eyes or he glances at Duck’s chest or hindquarters, he goes pink. 

Duck whistles, tracks the songbirds hopping from tree to tree. His friend doffs his jacket, rolls the sleeves of his white shirt up as sunbeams scatter through the trees.

“You really are handsome.” Indrid murmurs, “you know that, right?”

“Heard as much from folks now and then. But you sayin’ it is a, uh, interestin development. Almost like you’re tryin to tell me somethin.” His voice catches between teasing and earnest, afraid moving too far one way or the other will scare his friend away.

“I...I need to get closer, to capture some details.” He slides off the rock to sit on his knees near Duck’s chest. The half-finished drawing peeks out from the paper, it’s perspective too far away for Indrid’s current examination to be of any use to it. 

“What details are you hopin’ to capture?” Duck pushes pale hair out of Indrid’s eyes.

“I, ah, the dapples just here, and this line, oh to hell with it.” He lunges into a kiss, so eager he nearly knocks Duck sideways. The centaur snickers, cups his face as ink-stained fingers thread into his hair. Indrid licks into his mouth, messy and unpracticed. Duck holds him there tames the frantic exploration down to something more refined but no less hungry. By the time they separate, Indrid’s face is bright red and Duck’s lips are sore. 

“‘Drid?” He brushes their noses together, runs his palms soothingly up and down a rumpled white shirt. 

“I’ve wanted that for so long.” Indrid sighs, curling closer in spite of the heat. Holding him like this, able to inhale his sweat and aftershave and feel his heartbeat, Duck understands there’s no going back. There is no pretending not to know, not to see the way Indrid looks at him. Which is fine by Duck; he loves Indrid Cold, and he doesn’t plan on stopping any time soon.

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

Duck is twenty years old when he learns that joy and heartbreak can exist in one body without ripping it apart. This is a pity, since he’d prefer bifurcation to the sorrow on Indrid’s face. 

“I’m sorry, Duck. I have to stay here and take over the bank, even though following you west is all I want to do.”

Two months ago, a friendly man stopped while Duck was tending the garden outside city hall and chatted with him for the better part of an hour as the centaur worked. The man turned out to be a millionaire with a massive estate mid-way up the California coast, including parts of a forest he wished to maintain but keep wild. He offered Duck the role of head gardener and arborist, and the contract was signed a week ago. The centaur assumed, from his active encouragement and celebration, that Indrid was coming with him on this once-in-a-lifetime chance. 

“I’ll send a wire, tell ‘em I gotta back out.”

“You will do no such thing.”

“Seems to me you don’t get a say in that.” 

“Duck, please” Indrid sets his left hand on his shoulder, right clenched at his side, “please do not cast your future aside on my account. Just because I have to stay here doesn’t mean you do.”

“Why do you have to stay at all?”

“I’ve been groomed to take my fathers’ place for years. I’m not sure there’s a way out of that, not one that I can see. Sometimes, fate is not in our favor.”

“Fuck fate.” He stops his front hoof.

“Here, you might need this out in California” Indrid lifts his fist, intending to give what it contains back to Duck, as the centaur placed the item there not even five minutes ago. 

Duck stops his hand, wraps his own around it, “No. I know the man for me is right here.”

“As do I” Indrids voice is tight. When his face drops against Duck’s chest, it’s damp with tears.

“Then he better write to me to let me know how he’s gettin on. And if he” Duck swallows around the painful possibility in his throat, “if he ever changes his mind, all he’s gotta do is send it back to me in a letter.”

Indrid slips his hand into his pants pocket, “Understood.”

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

“Duck!” Leo, one of Mr. Greenbanks two bodyguards, hails Duck from the mansions’ patio, “come on in a second, someone Mr. G wants you to meet.”

The centaur wipes his hands and trots briskly up the path to the house, droplets of fog strung through his hair. Most days he likes the peace and quiet of his work, but today he’s not in a contemplative mood; Indrid’s last letter was two weeks ago, when they usually come once a week if not more. Illness doesn’t stop him, he simply asks a friend in town to take down and post the letters. 

Once he’s certain he won’t track mud into the house, Duck makes his way towards the voices in the parlor. He must be more heartsick than usual today, because that voice sounds like-

“Ah, Duck, here you are. This is Mr. Indrid Cold, a talented young artist who will be illustrating my various scientific writings. And,” Mr. Greenbank winks, “will have the honor of being in charge of any artistic endeavors at the Academy of Sciences.”

Indrid extends his hand. Duck kisses it out of habit, notes his employers' perplexed expression an instant too late. 

“It’s a, uh, an old, uh, centaur custom--no, fuck, it’s-”

“We are well known to each other.” Indrid smiles his most genteel smile.

“Splendid! I’m hoping to draw up extensive records of my arboretum, so it’s good you two get along.”

“Indeed.” Indrid tips his head, then turns his attention away from Duck, “where would you like me to unpack my things?”

Duck leaves them to their logistics, stunned. Indrid not only being here, but acting distant after six months apart raises so many questions that he wants to lay down in the flowerbeds and holler until someone answers them. 

He busies himself among forest wildflowers instead, wondering why Indrid never mentioned he was applying for that position. 

“I hope this explains the gap in my communication.” Indrid, shivering near a tree-trunk, pulls out a handkerchief and wipes his glasses, “I didn’t want to tell you my plans for fear they’d fall through and make you all the more disappointed. Also, the journey here was rather chaotic due to an attempted train robbery. All that is to say I’m sorry if I caused you any distress.”

“Yeah, you did” Duck sets down his tools, “but it was so fuckin worth it.” He yanks the human into an embrace, kisses him until his glasses are all askew. Indrid moans, slipping his fingers under the hem of his work shirt to stroke the band where skin meets fur. 

“What happened to fate?” Duck nips his jaw.

“As someone I know so eloquently put it: fuck fate.”

“Smart fella.”

“He is.” Indrid pulls back, mapping Ducks’ body with his hands, “And I also have something for him.” The human tucks a sprig of Lupines-- weighed down with a silver engagement ring--into Duck’s shirt pocket.

“You said sending it with a letter meant the end of things. By that same token, delivering it in person signals their beginning, yes?”

“Yeah.” Duck kisses him, soft as the lifting fog, “guess we better tell Mr. Greenbank he can just let you stay in my cottage.”

“Indeed. May I, ah, see this lovely abode?”

“Right this way. You want me to give you a ride.”

Indrid shakes his head, simply takes Duck’s hand and falls into step beside him, “No. I suspect there will be plenty of opportunities for, ah, riding later. After all, I’m here to stay.

[badbadbucky]

WIP Wednesday 5/5/2021

Very happy to have a WIP Weds this week. It’s been a few weeks because I have really been struggling to make any sort of progress on my story that I could feel good about, but I am finally pointing in the right direction again and even though I am not writing as much as I have in the past, I am still making progress! 

In this section, the Restless are formulating a plan to avenge their dead brother Chuy, who died trying to figure out who killed their beloved preident, Dev, and so three of them have gone up into the hills to scout out where the rival werewolf motorcycle club the Lupes go during the change on the full moon. 

Eddie, Arno, and Greg laid their bikes down in a shallow ditch and put some branches over the top to hide them from view. Eddie had chosen a spot just beyond a sign that said the area was open range, so they’d be able to find the bikes again if they had to come out quick. They were deep in Lupe territory, they had to be very careful.

 Eddie had decided it would be best for a small group to scout out the place where the Lupes would undergo the change, make sure Dev’s info was still good. So, the three of them had left their cuts behind at a bar right on the border between Restless and Lupe territory, along with the rest of the Restless, and rode up into the hills. 

Moving silently, the three men picked their way through the woods. The terrain was rough, a lot of hills and valleys, thick with sagebrush, wiregrass, and juniper trees. If Dev’s information held true, then they were still a little over a mile out from the Lupe campsite. 

Arno sneezed, then sneezed again, and again, then a fourth fifth and sixth time. Greg and Eddie both stared at Arno. Arno smiled at them abashedly. “Fucking junipers man,” his voice barely a croak. 

As they walked, the smell was what hit Eddie first, faint at first but still unmistakeable, the smell of death, not the coppery richness of recent death, but the high sour rankness of rotting death. Eddie and Greg pulled out bandanas and tied them over their faces, Arno was apparently too stuffed with snot to smell anything. 

Eddie jerked his head and Arno and Greg split off, searching for the source of the smell, this operation was delicate and they couldn’t leave anything to chance. As Eddie moved forward, he saw Greg and Arno slipping between the trees, pulling ahead of him.

The three of them came back together to stand over the rotting carcass of a cow. The cow had been ripped apart by a werewolf. The clearest sign was that the meat was intact, left to rot. If it had been an actual wolf, a coyote, or a cougar then most of the carcass would have been eaten. Werewolves sometimes ate raw, but once you shifted back to human you could get sick from it, another downside to an uncontrolled change. If an animal had been killed by a werewolf, all the other animals left it alone. They were in the right place, or at least close to it. 

“Wow, mighty hunter, bringing down fuckin’ Ol’ Bess the cow,” Arno said. 

Eddie and Greg snickered. The Restless took hunting very seriously. In the 90’s a charter having a banner year riding the last of the cocaine wave and were even able to fund a hunting trip to Africa. The heads still hung up in the clubhouse. 

Their laughter was cut short by the sound of a rifle being cocked. Eddie’s head shot up and he saw two ranchers on horseback. One who looked to be around 70, though still very hale, a strong 70; the other looked like he was in his 40’s. Eddie grabbed his gun.

Eddie could blame not smelling the ranchers coming on the tremendous stink of the rotting carcass, but not hearing the rattle of the saddles and clop of the hooves couldn’t be blamed on anything except stupidity. 

Before Eddie could get his gun up, the older man said, “that’ll be the last mistake you ever make, boy.”

 Eddie kept his gun lowered, but he didn’t re-holster it, yet. 

Arno and Greg drew their guns up and leveled them at both men. 

The younger man gigged his horse forward a few steps, pointing the gun at Arno. “Hey!” he yelled.

“Put ‘em down,” the older man said. “Or I’ll put him down.” He gestured at Eddie with his gun. “And I know what it takes to make sure he stays down.”

Silver?

The older man must have seen the comprehension dawn in Eddie’s eyes, because he grinned at Eddie and said, “Goddamn werewolves. All the same. Got that werewolf mentality. Think you can take whatever you want from hardworking folks. Every month you pieces a’ shit come up here and kill my cattle, this time I got ya. Dead to rights, I got ya.”

“Put ‘em down,” Eddie said. He dropped his 9mm on the ground.

Greg lowered his gun, though he didn’t seem too happy about it, but he didn’t drop it.

Arno shook his head. “Uh-uh, no way.”

“Arno. Put it down,” Eddie said. 

“I’d listen to the Ese,” the older man said. “It’s not so easy to find silver bullets these days, but you still can, if you’re properly motivated.”

“Put it down, man,” Eddie said. “It’s a misunderstanding. I’m gonna explain it to them. It’ll be fine.”

The younger man looked doubtful. Arno did too, but he lowered the gun. Then, Greg and Arno threw both of their guns on the ground.

“Good choice,” the older man said. “Now, tell me where the rest of your pack are.”

“We ain’t who you think we are,” Eddie said.

“That right?” the older man said.

Eddie nodded. “We aren’t members of the Lupine Devil Pack.”

“Well, ain’t that convenient, we find you wandering around on our land, but you ain’t the fuckers we’re looking for,” the younger one said.

“I think we’re looking for the same people,” Eddie said. “We had intel that they were up here. We came to find ‘em.” The younger man spat tobacco juice on the ground inches from Eddie’s boot.  Arno looked prepared to rip the pinche guey’s head off over the slight, but Eddie shot him a look and continued talking. “They killed one of our brothers. We came to take care of those bitches while they were in heat.” 

The younger man snorted in amusement. 

“If you ain’t wolves, then what are ya?” the older man asked. 

Eddie pressed his hand to his chest. “Chupacabra,” he said, really playing up his Mexican accent. 

The younger man narrowed his eyes. “Ain’t ever seen no white chupacabras.”

“Just me,” Eddie said. “They’re Squatches from Portland.”

“Squatches don’t shift,” the younger man said. 

“Oh, you know a lot ‘a sasquatches do ya?” Arno demanded, playing up the righteous indignation perfectly. He’d said he’d done a play once in junior high, said he fucking loved it. “Guess you know all about sasquatches. Everybody thinks they’re a goddamn sasquatch expert.”

“Alright, alright! I’m sorry,” the younger one said. “Just a little weird is all. What are two bigfoots and a beaner doing hanging out together?”

Eddie ignored the insult. He could already tell that if he was going to get his guys through this he was going to have to eat a lot of shit. “Lupes killed someone we care about,” he said. “Mutual friend. We’re here to kill the one that killed him.” Dev had taught him that the best lies were basically the truth. 

“Don’t see why you think that information will improve your situation,” the older man said. “Don’t want chupacabras or sasquatches or unicorns on my goddamn property.”

“Enemy of my enemy is my friend,” Eddie said. “And we got the same enemy. We could help each other. I got numbers. You know these hills. We could--”

“Hold on. We ain’t amigos just yet,” the older man said. He very deliberately tilted his eyes down to his rifle, which was still pointed at Eddie’s head, as if Eddie could have forgotten. 

“Yeah, I’ve had better starts,” Eddie said. He allowed his most charming smile to creep across his face. “But I’ve had worse too. I’m Eddie,” Eddie said, pointing toward himself. “This is Arno.” 

Arno laughed abashedly. “Sorry about putin’ a gun in your face. And for calling you an old rat dick fuck.”

“You didn’t,” the older man said. 

Goddamnit Arno.

“I mean sorry for thinking it. You’re not. An old rat dick fuck. I mean you’re old, but not a rat dick fuck,” Arno said. “Sorry.”

“Shut up,” Eddie hissed. He looked up to gauge the old man’s reaction, and--to his relief--found a sort of wry amusement, he doubted there would have been any amusement on the old punta’s face if it had been Eddie or Diego making that crack, nah he didn’t think so. Eddie pointed at Greg. “That’s Greg.”

Greg lifted his hand in a half-hearted wave.

The old man lowered his gun, though the younger man kept his trained on Arno. “I’m Joseph.” He reached over and pushed down the barrel of the younger man’s rifle. “This is my boy, Randy.”

Randy lowered the gun to his side. 

“Nice to meet you,” Eddie said. “Now, how about we help each other out?”

[that-spider-witch]

Gods I hope we get to see in “Onyx Equinox”

There’s something a lot of people not familiar with Aztec Mythology (Myself included until not that long ago) don’t know about: The Mexica had lots and lots of gods. Seriously, their lists of deities is so long I still don’t even know half of them, so here’s a few of them that I would be interested in seeing as characters in this series (Or... In any other media using the mythos, really).

1. Huitzilopochtli

A.K.A the Blue Tezcatlipoca. AKA the “Handed Hummingbird”. AKA the god that gets infamously remembered today because his sacrifices required human hearts. You know how the Aztecs get despicted in modern media as sacrificing people by bloodily pulling out their hearts? Yep, that was just this god’s sacrifices.

This dude was the younger little brother of Quetzalcoatl and he was freaking badass. And he was a fucking HUMMINGBIRD. Quetzalcoatl out here as this giant, fabulous feathered serpent. Edgy Tezcatlipoca over there being this big, badass jaguar because of course he was. And then you have this tiny little hummingbird who’s the freaking personification of WAR and can and will fuck you over.

I can’t stress this enough: He was the God of War and human sacrifice, and most of his surviving lore describes him as a blue hummingbird of all things. He was the very first “Looks like a cinnamon roll, can actually kill you”.  

Give me my heart-eating, bloodsoaked hummingbird warrior, Crunchyroll. I want to see my hummingbird boy.

2. Huehuecóyotl

...Okay, how do I describe this trickster bastard without comparing him to Loki in any way? Huh...

Ok, I think I know: Have any of you watched Durarara!!? Well, take freaking Izaya “I love humans” Orihara, ascend him to actual godhood, then make him a damn good artist and dancer, like, the best dancer this whole universe has ever known, the one guy you have to invite to your party even if he backstabbed you the night before that, because a party is just not a party unless he’s been invited. 

And then turn him into a coyote.

This dude right here was a bastard, and a good-looking bastard when in human form at that. If we get an anime version of him on this series, I expect everyone to lose their collective shit over him. Seriously, if written well, this absolute motherfucker could be the very next ‘rat’ boy that gets everyone to simp for him while also simultaneously hating his guts. Crunchyroll would have to be complete idiots to let this opportunity pass. Just imagine the potential. Just... Imagine.

He was also apparently really fucking horny? Like, on a “Horny on main” mood  24/7. So... There’s that too, I guess.

3. Chalchiuhtlicue

So apparently this water goddess ruled over the other gods for a while before both Tezcatlipoca and Quetzalcoatl got jealous and joined forces to overthrew her? But doing that caused the Mexica equivalent of the Great Flood (and also turned everyone into fish for a good while)?

...Man, Mesoamerican mythology was weird.

She also apparently fucked Tlaloc, the one who’s almost always described as being some kind of Leviathan-like creature or something along those lines? As in, they were even married? Monsterfucking goals right there, if I say so myself.

I think she’s already been confirmed to be in the series already (She could even be one of the ladies shown in the trailer), but I still put her here because she seems really fucking cool. You go, girl.

4. Ehecalt

Ok people, this is where things get really, really weird.

Ehecalt is described as the God of the wind and the cardinal directions, with some small but important parts of the lore being credited to him or mentioning him by name. He also happens to have an important role on the tale of the Fifth Sun, where the gods reformed the Sun and the world (and humanity alongside with it) for the fifth time. 

Oh yeah, I should get this out of the way before going any further: According to Aztec Mythology, the world actually ended at least five times already, with the gods having to fix the mess and rebuilt the world back to normal each time it happened, which would always leave them really tired, and also kinda hungry. Hence the whole sacrifice thing.

It was kinda comedic in a really dark way, really, as nearly all of these supposed apocalypses the gods had to fix were also their own damn fault in one way or another nearly every. single. time. The reason behind the literal destruction of the world involved more often than not one or two of the gods having a cosmic tantrum. Seriously. 

Anyways...

Anyone who have seen the trailer knows that the series is apparently taking place during/after the Fouth Sun (”We have remade humanity four times before”), so this part of the mythos could be extremely important to the lore of the series. 

And if this series turns out to be some anime-like retelling of the Fifth Sun, like I saw a few people in the spanish-speaking community theorizing already, then get ready because things are going to get really fucking tragic.

Long story short (Except, not short at all...): The sun they made was not moving like it should, so the Gods had to make the hard choice to give their own blood to the sun to get it working. And because just some bloodletting from each one of them wasn’t going to cut it, they all had to be sacrificed to the sun, and Ehecalt was the one who had to do the deed.

But there was a god that wasn’t very keen on the idea of having to be killed for the greater good: Xolotl. This god basically went “Fuck this shit, I’m out!” and went into hiding because he was absolutely terrified of dying. Very understandable... until you discover that Xolotl was like, the Grim Reaper of the Aztec mythos, making his fear of dying ironic and more than a little hypocritical.

Being a Shapeshifting god, Xolotl disguised himself as a bunch of different things while trying to escape Ehecalt, the most iconic of which being an axololt, a form which he took before hiding under water. A form of his which could have been shown to us already as being in the series.

If the Fifth Sun is in anyway relevant to the story, which very likely seems to be, then Ehecalt is bound to appear, right?

Well, here’s the thing: Apparently he and Quetzalcoatl are one and the same. More specifically, Ehecalt is one of many aspects of Quetzalcoatl, so he’s also referred to with the name Ehecatl-Quetzalcoatl.

The question here is, if Onyx Equinox turns out to really be a retelling of the Fifth Sun story and the cute, series mascot-looking axolotl shown briefly in the trailer really turns out to be Xolotl in disguise, how are they going to adapt Ehecalt? Are they just going to give the role to Quetzalcoalt and not mention the name entirely, as it would probably just needlessly complicate things? Will be another name given to that god, as it kinda is? Will they actually make him a separate character entirely?

I don’t know, but I kinda want to find out.

That’s all for now, mainly because as I stated at the beginning I’m not as knowledgeable on this subject as I would like to be. If you happen to know more about this, please feel free to point out how I got absolutely everything wrong.

Now to wait for more info on this series, and hope it’s as good as the initial trailer made it look like to be. Crunchyroll has shown they actually have what it takes to produce a good adaptation (Tower of God, anyone?), now let’s see if they can manage the same quality with an original one.

[waywardimpalawriter]

Hey kristy-waves-I saw your blog and I liked it so much,so I have this request about castiel xreader about the song no light by florence and the machine ,I want it angst no happy endings necessary ,it's about the reader is hiding a secret about castiel and he knows that and faces her but she refuse to tell ,I hope you hear the song it might help and thanks

Hidden agenda  

Pairing: Human!Castiel x Reader

Rating: PG

Warnings: anger, angst, verbal fighting,  

Word count: 3,295

Note: Requested by @justmasblack a while ago, sadly I had problems with things in life and writing fell behind. That being said I’m now getting around to finishing up requests and hopefully other stories as well. This inspiration from the song ‘No Lights’ by Florence and The Machines. Enjoy doll.  

Forever:

@angryschnauzer @feelmyroarrrr@aquabrie @fandommaniacx   @becs-bunker

Supernatural:

@aprofoundbondwithdean @ruprecht0420 @akshi8278 @andkatiethings

“Listen buddy, um,” eyes darting everywhere but Castiel’s, not wanting him to see the truth. “You can’t stay.” 

Those are the words you walk in on, words that send a dagger through your heart not only for yourself but for Castiel as the look on his face speaks volumes. An array of emotions, from anger to disappointment and betrayal to the greatest being hurt all flit across his features. It makes your heartache and anger to ignite in your veins, combine that with an itch to punch Dean in his face for sending his best friend away.  

Taking two more steps forward you’re able to hear what Castiel says, “What do you mean I can’t stay?” 

Running a hand through his thick brown hair tugging on the strands in frustration, “You’ll be putting us in danger Cas. The angels their all looking for you and with Sam still recovering…” 

He leaves the rest hanging and though you don’t know if he’s actually looking at Castiel you suspect he’s not making eye contact as he normally would. You suspect there could be more to his reasoning and only part of it has to do with Sam. 

You go to step forward when Castiel speaks, rough and full of pain his voice cracks slightly, “I understand Dean, Sam’s family, and he’s still recovering, I’ll be going then.” 

Giving Dean one last look, Castiel spy’s you standing in the archway coming from the library, giving you a sharp nod as well before heading for the stairs. It’s unusual to have him walk away instead of just fly in a swish of trench coat and wings. Partly disturbing that the once powerful angel has been reduced to a normal human. This makes anger surge hotter, especially when the door slams, the ringing echoing through the bunker and your body with a finality you never wanted to hear. 

“What the hell is your problem Winchester? Why would you send Cas out to face such uncertainty and the possibility of death? He’s never been human before this isn’t something he should be facing alone,” anger tinging your voice as you step forward to confront the eldest Winchester. 

   Pivoting on his booted feet a deep glare marring his handsome features, “You think I wanted to do that, to send him out into a world he barely understands?” 

“That’s what it sounded like to me.” A sneer twisting your features, “You all but tossed him out the front door yourself. With no regard for what could happen to him.” Stepping down so that you’ve come face to face with Dean, arms crossed over your chest a glare showing the disapproval. 

Shaking his head, Dean slumps back against the war table, “I have no choice Y/N it’s either dump Cas out like yesterday’s trash or loose Sam.”

“Sam wouldn’t just up and…” realization smacks you in the face like an unexpected branch while running, deflating some of your anger. “Ezekiel threatened to leave didn’t he and let Sam die?” One sharp nod and you’ve come to lean next to Dean against the table. Knowing without words how hard this position is for him and what he’s gone through to make sure Sam heals.  

You are the hole in my head

You are the space in my bed

You are the silence in between

What I thought and what I said

You are the night-time fear

You are the morning when it’s clear

When it’s over you’ll start

Running a hand through already ruffled hair making it spike, “How can I not protect Sam when it’s my fault he’s in this mess. On the other hand, I’ve signed Cas’s death certificate,” pulling the stands Dean turns his back. Frustration courses through his veins making him itch to punch something. 

“I’ll go find him, help acclimate him to being human,” the very words shock you. Not that you don’t care for Castiel in fact if you were truthful… Shaking your head you push those thoughts aside, you were doing this to ensure his safety and wellbeing. “I promise to look after him, Dean.”

Turning, “You sure about that? You’ll be painting a target on your ass the size of Texas.” 

“Nothing I haven’t been through before,“ a deep sigh leaving parched lips. "Been hunting since I could walk, made a few enemies that way. Wiley Coyote chasing the Road Running,” giving a half smirk, “just a friendly game of tag that’s all.”  

Harsh snort leaving his lips, “I think you got that twisted sister,” shaking his head, Dean rests a hand on your shoulder. “Be careful and keep the two of you safe.” 

Smirking, “Now why would I go and do stupid a thing like getting us killed or captured?” slim brow lifting, you turn to head back the way you came. 

“All the same don’t let your mouth over load your ass Y/N,” calling after you, before slumping back against the table worried for the both of you warring with everything else already clouding his mind.

You’re my head, you’re my heart

No light, no light in your bright blue eyes

I never knew daylight could be so violent

A revelation in the light of day

You can’t choose what stays and what fades away

And I’d do anything to make you stay

No light, no light

(No light)

Having left without cleaning up or changing clothes you tossed your stuff into the passenger seat of your Ford Rancho, got in, turned the key and gunned the engine. Wanting to catch up with Castiel before he got too far or worse into trouble and your promise to Dean would be null in void before getting off the ground. Though you reasoned being on foot he may have gotten a mile, two at most. What you hadn’t counted on was the ride he hitched not far from the bunker. 

Exasperated you’re just about ready to give up driving around Lebanon looking when you catch a flash of something. A fight and by the looks a pretty nasty one with the guy on the ground getting the crap beating out of them. You pull over, jumping out to run over, getting the shock of your life when you see Castiel on the ground curled in a ball. 

Muscles react, hand goes to the angel blade in the small of your back hidden by your jacket, and ready yourself for a fight you may lose, “Hey assface why don’t you pick on someone who can fight back?”   

“Not your fight human just run away while you can still breathe,” tall and blonde, his nasally voice already getting on your nerves. 

“Pff,” flipping the blade a sneer on your face, “And why don’t you come over here and meet Mr. Pointy, he’s really looking forward to sticking it to ya.”

Lunging forward his own blade glinted in the low light, trying to take a swipe at you but missing as you’ve side stepped the angel. Who by the looks of things is still trying to use to his new body, “Ah what’s the matter fluffy haven’t got the balance  to keep up?”  

“Shut up mud monkey,” words gritted out between clinched teeth, eyes quickly assessing the scenario. Taking a few quick steps seeing that you drop your left side. An entry point he takes advantage of by landing a right hook to the side of your face. Having you stagger backwards at the power, “Not too cocky now are you human?” smirk drifting over his lips.  

Catching yourself, tasting blood from the broke lip, you gather the coppery substance and spit it out right at his feet. “Nothing I haven’t felt before fluffy beside that punch was weak my grandmother could hit harder than that.”  

No words, just lashing out throwing punches and slashed between the two of you. You’ve landed a few good ones to his chest, and side with cuts to his face angel grace flashing low with the cuts. While he’s managed to figure out your fighting style, inflicting a number of blows that have you staggering backwards and bumping into Castiel. Holding his bleeding side with one arm and trying to help balance you with the other.  

“How sweet trying to help your girlfriend Castiel?” shaking his head in disgust a sneer crossing his angelic face. “Trading all of Heaven for these mud monkeys? You’re pathetic Castiel truly a disgrace to your angel wings.”  

From your periphery, seeing the hurt and shame make his expressive blue eyes dim, and your blood to boil at the audacity of this piece of shit. Gently pushing away from his warm embrace, flipping the angel blade in your hand once more so that the blade is cocked to the side. Fire dancing in your eyes along with a healthy dose of hate for this piece of shit, “If anyone is truly pathetic it’s you. For following orders and not asking questions.” Taking a step forward new strength filling your veins at the memory of Castiel’s face. “You who think you’re so superior to us humans. But let me tell you one thing assbutt, Castiel has more heart and courage in his little pinkie than you have in your whole body.”  

This time the angel snorts, hands out waving them carefully in front of him waiting for the next attack to come. Almost growing bored with the whole encounter. “Are you gonna talk me to…” before he could finish the words you start to attack.

Aiming your blade for his chest you throw it with all your might, only to have it deflected by his own blade. The act just the opening you needed to get a running start using his bent knee as a step to vault you up and around his shoulders. Arms wrapped around his neck to cut off air and put pressure to his throat. The two of you flailing in circles, he tries to stab at your arms and legs a few times. Getting a hit in a time or two, but his world is starting to go black, his senses unaware of the fact that Castiel has joined the fight.  

Not wanting to lose you to this piece of shit you’ve taken upon yourself to defend him from, Castiel moves quickly as his injures will allow him. Picking up the discarded angel blade he moves forward, careful of the swinging weapon in the other angel’s hand. Castiel gets close enough hesitating for a fraction of a second, at killing one of his brothers. However, that thought flew out, especially when he notices that the angel has the opening, he needs to disengage you from around his shoulders and in the process ending your life.  

Rage like he’s never felt before courses through his veins, his aim never wavers as it lands, sinking deep into the angel’s chest. Blood curdling scream leaves his lips, bright bluish white light enveloping them all, his body disintegrating under you, a yelp of surprise added to the noise. Feeling your body dropping, preparing yourself for the pain that would come. Eyes screwed closed but pop open when warm arms and chest catch you. Staggering a few steps, to almost dropping you, but managing to hang onto the most precious being in the world to him.  

A surprised gasp leaves your lips when you land in his arms, your own go to wrap around his neck, eyes meeting the bright blues of his. You have to resist the urge to lean in to kiss him only helped by the wounds on your side as a hiss leaves you lips.  

“Your damaged Y/N?” it’s both a conformation and question that has him gently moving towards the bench to set you down. Looking over your body and cursing his inability to heal you, while seeing the cuts adoring your face and sides. He flinches at the soft feel of callused fingers bringing his chin up to look you in the eyes.  

“Nothing I haven’t dealt with before Cas I promise I’ll be fine,” eyes soft as you take in his own injuries. “We just gotta get back to my car and to a motel room to get cleaned up.”  

Tell me what you want me to say

But would you leave me If I told you what I’ve done And would you leave me If I told you what I’ve become

‘Cause it’s so easy To say it to a crowd But it’s so hard, my love To say it to you out loud

You go to stand with help from Cas, the two of you holding on to each other and limping back to your car. Once in the driver seat a small sigh of relief leaves your lips, and you glance over at Castiel who’s got one arm wrapped around his chest where a gash seeps a thin line of blood through his shirt.  

“Don’t,” gravelly and deep, though he doesn’t turn to look at you, just stares out the windshield.  

Putting the car in drive, you pull away from the curb, “Don’t what Cas?”  

Broken sigh leaves his lips though he still stares out the window, “Look at me that way Y/N, with pity in your eyes.”  

Shock doesn’t even begin to tap into what you feel at his words. Surely he doesn’t think… “Castiel I don’t pity you. I’m worried and not understanding why you left the bunker.” Biting your bottom lip knowing that last part is a lie that tastes bitter on your tongue.  

“Dean asked me to leave, it’s wasn’t my choice Y/N,” this time he turns to look at your profile hidden except for the times when they pass under a streetlight. “Did you know?”

No light, no light in your bright blue eyes I never knew daylight could be so violent A revelation in the light of day You can’t choose what stays and what fades away

And I’d do anything to make you stay No light, no light

Tell me what you want me to say

Rolling to a stop at the light, glancing over at Castiel his bright blue eyes searing into yours, making it very hard not to tell him the truth. “No, I didn’t know Cas.” Those five simple words bitter in your mouth, breaking your heart for the man beside and for yourself. “I only walked in on the last part of your conversation. Dean told me what happen and I left to find out to find you.”  

Nodding solemnly, turning his eyes back on the road missing the hurt in your own. He’s unsure if he believes you but for now, “Thank you.”  

“For what?” biting your bottom lip to keep the small sob of regret from leaving your chapped lips.  

“Saving me back there,” his answer short and clipped while you pull the car into a parking spot.  

Nodding though you know he can’t see as the interior is too dark, “Stay here I’ll get us a room.”  

Watching you go, Castiel’s eyes drop to the cell phone on the dash. A text message from Dean flashing on the small screen that he can’t help but read.  

Text: Have you found him?  

Are y’all safe?  

Fucking hell Y/N answer me.  

The screen goes black as Castiel’s thoughts swirl in his head. Caught between picking the phone up to answer and just leave things alone. The answer comes with the next text message.  

Text: You’re right Y/N I shouldn’t have made him leave. But I can’t lose Sam. Tell him….

Three dots blink for a moment as if Dean’s trying to figure out what to say next.  

Text: Keep him safe and don’t let him know

The revelation hits him hard and he scrambles to get out of the car just as you come back from getting the motel key.  

“Cas where are you going? I need to patch you up,” confusion coloring your eyes as you look him over. Gut dropping as to what has him acting this way. “What happened?”  

“You tell me Y/N? What does Dean not want you to tell me?” eyes boring into yours making you flinch and turn away.  

Running a shaking blooded hand through your hair, “It’s complicated Cas but I can’t tell you.”  

You want a revelation You want to get it right But, it’s a conversation I just can’t have tonight

“Secrets never get you anywhere Y/N you know this. Sam and Dean know this so why the lies? Why keep this from me?” taking a step towards you wanting answers but also wanting to hold you. How could two conflicting emotions be warring inside his mind.  

Moving towards the car to pull out your bags, “Not here,” motioning towards the room you’re rented for the night. Hoping that Castiel will follow and not just disappear.  

Entering, you drop you bags on the bed as Castiel follows, standing as a status by the now closed door. “We’re in, talk.”  

Sighing, you turn to face him arms crossing over your chest. Eyes catching the blooded shirt, “Take your shirt off and let me bandage you up first.”  

“No,” firm and harsh Castiel stalks forward and grabs your arm as you’ve turned to rummage through your medical bag. The forcefulness in his tone and grip has you gasping.  

You want a revelation Some kind of resolution You want a revelation

Pulling your arm free from his tight grasp, “I can’t tell you Castiel, its not my place plus I promise Dean,” seeing the pain, sadness that etches its way across Castiel’s features breaks your heart even more this time. Since you’re the one hurting him, something you promised you’d never do. Not to the man you love.  

Shaking his head, “That angel was right I am pathetic for choosing humanity, for choosing…” he bites the last words off turning from you. From Dean, he could stomach the secrets and betrayals but from you that damn near killed him.  

“Cas…” you step towards the injured angel now human wanting to try and make things right. “Tell me what you want me to say?”  

Turning back, eyes catching yours, “The truth Y/N, I want you to tell me the truth.”  

“I can’t.”  

“I didn’t think you would. Goodbye Y/N,” starting for the door he doesn’t see you follow him till your hand grasps his. Thumb brushing over the back of his warm callused hand.  

Wordlessly you try to tug him back inside, “Please,” you whisper, tears clogging your voice. Trapped between loyalty to Dean and your love for Castiel. “Stay, let me take care of you and we can do this together.”  

“No not when I can’t trust you won’t hold other things a secret from me. Unless,” he pivots back pulling his hand free from yours. The warmth and tenderness getting too much for him to bare. “Tell me the truth Y/N and I’ll stay.”  

Anguish flows through your veins, eyes down casting, arms wrapping around your body once more. “You want a revelation, a conversation I can’t have Castiel. Not tonight,” looking up at him pleading eyes dripping with tears. “Stay.”  

No answer comes it’s almost like he has his angel powers back and he’s just flew away. But you know that’s not the case. No, this time Castiel walks out, quicker than you thought he could in his condition. That revelation destroys you. Legs weaken so that you drop to the musty carpeted floor. Sobs wrack your frame as you curl into a ball, cursing yourself for letting this happen. For letting him walk away.  

You want a revelation You want to get it right But, it’s a conversation I just can’t have tonight You want a revelation Some kind of resolution Tell me what you want me to say

[ellewritesathing]

So Close - S.S. XLVI

Summary: The universe has a funny way of putting the things you want right in front of you, but just out of reach. Stiles and Y/N have been best friends ever since Scott brought him home, but when Stiles realizes that he might want to be something other than best friends, she leaves to go to some fancy private school up North. Now that she’s back though … maybe he’s got a shot? A Teen Wolf AU in which the reader has always been so close to Stiles and yet so far.

Masterlist   Prev. | Part 46

Word-count: 6k+

A/N: today on ‘oh shit it’s wednesday’ i bring to you an only-a-little-late update (also the gif doesn’t exactly fit but i can’t find a more appropriate one sorry!!)

You’d heard stories about newly turned werewolves. 

Erica had trouble controlling her impulses; she’d do anything that gave her an adrenaline rush. Boyd had trouble controlling his shifts; he’d be out for a run and find himself chasing a deer through the woods. Isaac had trouble controlling his emotions; he would go into fight or flight mode at the slightest noise. It took them months to learn control - Erica died before she could - but eventually, the ones left alive did. 

You turned almost a year ago, but your control came in waves. Emotional control was mastered fairly early on, physical control took a while longer, but you thought you’d gotten a hold on them by now. 

For the last month or so, your control had slipped almost completely. 

At first, it was slow. Your nightmares were worse and you’d started sleepwalking again. Once in a while, you’d wake up in an abandoned room or in the woods. Sometimes, you’d snap at Liam or accidentally hit a little harder than was necessary when you trained. 

But now you were waking up almost daily in a dusty abandoned room that was blocked off from the rest of the house. You could only go to sleep if you were tracing the scoring on a Feliscore Arcade token that you’d found in the pocket of a pair of jeans without knowing how it got there. Those accidental hits were becoming more and more intentional.

You’d heard stories about newly turned werewolves and about wolves evolving, but never stories of wolves devolving. 

Another fun little bonus of your devolution was that you had trouble concentrating on things anymore. You’d zoned out for most of Scott and Liam’s late-night lacrosse practice - that you’d only gone to because you didn’t want to be alone - and only looked up from your latest Feliscore Arcade google search when they froze on the field. 

“What? Are you guys tired of playing catch now or something?” you asked, cringing slightly at the harshness in your voice. 

“No. Something’s happening to Mason,” Liam said. His eyes were set on the school, then he dropped his lacrosse stick and bolted. It only took you a second to uncross your legs, get to your feet, and race after him.

The two of you made it to the school milliseconds before Scott, but every millisecond counted towards your little victory over your brother. You tried to squash the ugly, victorious feelings as the three of you broke into the library, and then you tried to smash Mason’s head in when he tried to attack you as you walked in.

Liam pulled you back as Corey and Mason lowered their chair and fire extinguisher. The two of them were out of breath as they recovered from the shock. 

“They were here. The Ghost Riders,” Mason said between pants of breath. 

You got a funny feeling in your chest at the mention of the Ghost Riders. There was something about them that you should have known; like how you should have known about the Dread Doctors before it was too late.

“Here? Just now?” Scott asked.

You squirmed out of Liam’s grip as he said, “I thought they left when the storm left.” 

“I guess not, because two of them were right up there,” Mason said. He pointed up to the railings on the second floor.

You tore your eyes away from the railing after a second. “What were they doing?” 

“We didn’t see when they came in.” Mason looked over to Corey for confirmation. “We only saw them when we turned invisible.”

Now it was your turn to hold Liam back as he turned to Corey. “You brought him into this?”

“He was trying to protect me,” Mason said as he stepped between Liam and Corey. He looked over his shoulder at Corey to get him to say something that would make Liam not want to kill him. 

“Uh, they didn’t seem to care about us,” Corey said. His heart was beating like crazy. “They- they walked right by us.” 

“So, what happened?” you asked, ignoring the agitation caused by Corey's ever beating heart.

Mason and Corey looked at each other for a long time, like they were trying to piece together what happened. “Uh…” Mason blinked a few times and turned back to you. “Then they just jumped down and left.”

“That’s it?” Liam asked. All his muscles were still tense.

“Yeah,” Corey said. 

Scott looked away from the railing and let out a breath. “They didn’t take someone? There was nobody else in here?”

Again, Mason and Corey looked at one another. “No. It was just us,” Corey said.

As annoyed as you were at the lack of information, you couldn’t stomach being in the library any longer. It felt like something horrible had happened there, but you couldn’t remember what or to whom. You stormed out of there ahead of the others, but then you paused in one of the hallways. 

There was that feeling of deja vu again. 

Slowly, you turned to look at the row of lockers. You took some very hesitant steps, letting your muscle memory override the screaming in your brain, and stopped in front of number 1075. Just as you reached out to touch the blue combination lock, a voice snapped you out of it. 

“Hey, thinking of getting a new locker?” Mason asked with a smile. 

“Uh, yeah. This one’s closer to the parking lot,” you lied. Your fingers reached out for the combination lock but you forced yourself to pull away and turn to Mason. “Did Liam and Scott already leave? I need a ride home.” 

“Oh, no, they’re still here. I’ll walk you to the front,” Mason said. He offered an arm to you and you took it with a smile.

A shiver ran up your spine as you cast one last look over your shoulder at locker 1075.

---

After a very confusing conversation with Deaton about phantom limbs, Scott asked you to watch him sleep. You didn’t mind - you barely slept anyway, at least this gave you an excuse to stay up and research the Wild Hunt - even if he did snore.

Things got interesting after the first hour and a half. At first, he just lay there and complained about not being able to sleep when you watched him. You assured him that you couldn’t care less about how much he drooled, and eventually, he fell asleep. Some occasional twitching and mumbling gave way to sleepwalking. Then, sleep-running through the woods. 

Scott collapsed into a heap on a pile of decaying leaves. When you were sure he wasn’t going to sleep-attack you, you bent down and woke him up. A brief explanation and change of clothes later, and the two of you had texted Malia and Lydia and started searching the woods for something that mattered. 

You stopped when Lydia pulled into the preserve and caught them up on what happened. “Hey, so, I went to bed at home and woke up out in the woods about a mile out,” Scott explained. “I think there’s a reason why this has happened.” He paused, waiting for someone to say something but no one interrupted him. When no one did, he started leading you guys through the woods. “I’ve been out here before. It was the beginning of sophomore year, the night before tryouts for First Line. I remember because it was all that I could think about.” 

“What were you doing?” Malia asked. She looked over at you as she stepped over a rock. “And where were you?” 

“I was at Willow Creek,” you said quietly, trying to remember why you left Beacon Hills to begin with or why you were so nervous to come back.

“And I was looking for a dead body,” Scott said simply.

“Well, that’s morbid,” Lydia mumbled. 

“Yeah, but what was I doing out here all alone?” Scott asked.

“I wish I could help you, but I didn’t know you back then,” Lydia said.

“I was still a coyote so I might’ve tried to eat the body,” Malia offered. 

You shuddered at the thought. Aside from the weird cannibalism-adjacent argument, Derek told you that the body in the woods had been Laura Hale. Malia would have tried to eat her cousin.

“Deaton said that my subconscious is trying to tell me something,” Scott said, clearly not as bothered by the semi-cannibalism as you were. He shook his head. “But I need you guys to help me figure out what it’s saying.”

Lydia let out a breath. “Maybe you were just a curious teenager. You heard there was a body-” 

“But how? I never watched the news. And I didn’t have a police scanner,” Scott said.

“Your mom works at the hospital,” Malia said. “Maybe she got called in and you overheard her?”

“My mom wasn’t home that night,” Scott said. “And I live five miles away from here. How did I get here?” 

“You drove?” Malia suggested. 

“No, we didn’t get another car until I came back,” you said.

“Then he ran,” Malia said. 

“I couldn’t have. I had asthma,” Scott said. He sighed and shook his head. “I was hiding, but they knew that I was here.”

“Maybe you just made a ton of noise with your asthmatic breathing,” Malia said, getting more annoyed that all her suggestions were being rebuffed. 

“How would they know that it was me?” Scott asked. “Why would the Sheriff even think that I would be out here?”

“Because, like most of the deaths in this town, it was related to the supernatural,” Lydia suggested.

“I wasn’t supernatural. I mean, this was the night I was bitten,” Scott said. He looked away, trying to remember something. “I wasn’t a werewolf yet, and I wasn’t out here alone.”

Now was your time to come clean about all the weird things you were doing and feeling. “Scott, I- I agree with you.” 

“You do?" Scott asked. He looked surprised but kept talking when you nodded. “I think I had a best friend. And I think he was out here with me that night, even if you weren't. I know it sounds crazy-”

“It doesn’t sound crazy,” Malia said. “I know that someone chained me up and I think they wanted me to stay human.” 

“I came to school this morning and I was sure I was supposed to meet someone … but I couldn’t remember who it was supposed to be,” Lydia said. 

It got quiet. They all turned to you. 

You took a shaky breath and shrugged. “I feel like I’m missing a part of me,” you said softly, not willing to meet any of their eyes. “Not just a best friend but someone … someone I loved. Someone who loved me.” 

Lydia reached out and interlaced her hand with yours. Even without words, she still tried to comfort you. 

“What if we’re all missing the same person?” Scott asked after a few uncomfortable seconds. He pulled out a piece of paper from his pocket and unfolded it to show you guys the photo Sydney had taken of you all on the first day of the semester. “I think that he was in this picture.”

Lydia pointed at the spot between her and Scott, just in front of you. You must have been holding him. “He was sitting right there,” she said.

“He was so close,” you whispered, reaching out for the photo despite knowing that it wouldn’t change a thing. 

Scott let you hold onto the photo as the four of you piled into Lydia’s car. It was so frustrating to know that he had been right there and you couldn’t remember a thing - but he was always there, lurking in the back of your mind but always just out of reach. He was the only thing you could think about the whole way to the animal clinic. 

Even as Deaton explained what happened, you couldn’t concentrate. It wasn’t like you’d be doing it anyway - the automatic writing - so there wasn’t any harm in you trying to remember instead.

“I have to warn you,” Deaton said quietly as you, Scott, and Malia huddled around him in the corner. “We may not be able to access these memories.”

“We have to,” you said.

Deaton gave you a heavy-looking smile and took a breath. “The legend has always been that the Wild Hunt takes people, but if what you’re telling me is right, the truth is much worse,” he said. “They erase people from reality.” 

Scott looked over at Lydia before asking, “How did we all remember someone who has been completely erased from our minds?” 

Before Deaton had the chance to answer, Lydia stole his attention. She was writing so furiously at her desk, alternating between not breathing and then panting. The desk shook with all her force, sending the blue shard of glass flying around in the dark. The light caught on the edges and something familiar ached in your chest.

“Oh … is she- should we stop her?” Scott asked. 

Deaton held out an arm to stop him. “Lydia? Lydia, slow down,” he said. When he was close enough, he switched off the lamp and Lydia stopped writing instantly. Instead of furious movement, she looked almost catatonic. 

“Is she okay?” you whispered. 

“Lydia?” Deaton asked.

Nothing. 

Malia reached forward and pulled the piece of paper off the desk. You held onto one corner and looked at it over her shoulder. 

The word ‘mischief’ was written all over, but the shapes made out the word ‘Stiles.’ No, it wasn’t a word - it was a name. It was his name.

Stiles. 

---

Geography was remarkable mind-numbing the next day. You barely paid any attention to it at the best of times, and it was decidedly not the best of times considering your lack of sleep and constant agitation. 

The Wikipedia article for stiles was open for the billionth time, as well the etymology of ‘mischief’ and the link for that stupid arcade. Instead of acting like the useless google searches were less important than geography, you put your hand up and asked to be excused. 

You’d just gotten to the parking lot when you heard a coyote howl inside the school. Groaning, you kicked the bike rack and headed back inside. 

Malia was in the basement with Scott, Lydia, Natalie, and Noah when you got there. She was snarling and ready to bite whoever came near her, so Lydia suggested giving her some space. You thought the idea was ridiculous, but you didn’t feel like adding ‘being maimed’ to your list of reasons to find new friends. 

You'd missed most of Lydia, Scott, Noah, and Natalie's conversation, but you were just in time to hear Malia let out another growl. She stepped out from underneath one of the cupboards before you had the chance to intervene and started shifting, making the process look surprisingly elegant considering how painful it must have been.

“It’s alright. I’m okay,” she said. 

Natalie quickly walked over to give Malia some clothes while Noah counted how many tiles were on the floor and Scott counted the tiles on the ceiling.

“Do we have any idea what made her shift?” Noah asked.

“She’s under a lot of pressure,” Scott answered. He took his eyes off the ceiling to look at Lydia for confirmation. “School, her life after graduation-” 

“Her mom trying to kill her,” you mumbled.

“But that shouldn’t make her shift,” Scott said. “Do you guys think it could be connected to Stiles?” 

“Hard to tell since we don’t know what a ‘Stiles’ is,” Lydia said.

“It’s a he,” Noah said. You couldn't tell if he was frowning or if the annoyance was just a permanent feature of his face.

“Who?” 

“Stiles,” Noah said with a nod, trying to cover his frown. “It’s a family nickname. I never used it, but, uh, my father did.”

“Could you tell us some more about him?” you asked, stepping closer and giving him your best smile. You didn’t know why you thought that would sway him. “About Stiles?” 

Noah cast a cautionary look at Lydia’s mom. “If Natalie’s okay with it …” 

“Could it wait until after school?” she asked. 

“No,” you and Lydia said, at the same time Scott and Malia said, “Yes.” 

You glared at them. It was their fault that Natalie personally walked each of you back to your classes to make sure none of you ditched, and it was your fault for not slipping away when she wasn’t paying attention. 

So, you sat through Geography and two other classes before racing to Lydia’s car as soon as the bell went off. Lydia was already there, explaining how Malia couldn’t come because she had to retake her retake but Scott would be there any minute. She didn’t listen to your suggestion of him meeting you there instead. 

But after all your annoyance and agitation, you froze when you saw Noah’s house. It was the house that you were always waking up in, just in the warm glow of the afternoon instead of the dusty haze of midnight. You didn’t mention it to Scott or Lydia - how could you? It wasn’t like you had any reason to know where Noah lived until now - you just took a deep breath and went inside. 

It was strangely lived in. Hard to believe they had a boarded-up room somewhere when you were looking at all the throw pillows and decorative balls of yarn. Claudia broke you out of your haze by pushing a glass of lemonade into your hand. She gave you a warm smile and ushered the three of you into the living room. 

“He was an army engineer,” Noah explained once you were all settled. He handed Scott a photo from a memory box. “Ended the war one bridge at a time.” 

Like a stile, you realized. He helped people move over whatever was blocking their path.

Scott smiled at the photo in his hand. “And he went by ‘Stiles.’” 

You looked over his shoulder at the old photo of Elias in his army gear. It felt like you’d seen the photo before; like someone had already shown it to you, except you knew that back then it was a secret. A shiver went down your spine. You weren’t supposed to see this photo.

“So, what’s this got to do with the Wild Hunt?” Noah asked.

“We think that somebody was taken from us,” Scott explained.

“Any idea who?” 

Scott shook his head. “Uh, the Ghost Riders would have erased our memories.” 

“Well, now, that’s convenient,” Noah said.

“But we found a clue,” Lydia said. “The word ‘stiles.’”

“And that’s why you wanna talk to Elias?” Claudia asked. She didn’t sound very convinced. 

“Yeah, maybe he can help us figure it out,” Scott said. “Maybe he knows who we’re looking for.” 

“Now this is someone your age?” Noah asked. 

“Yes,” you said, sounding more sure than Scott or Lydia had since you’d arrived. “He was our … friend.” There went your certainty. Whatever Stiles had been to the others, he was something else to you. 

“Well-” Noah shut the memory box on his lap and stood up. “I can guarantee you, my father can’t help you.” He took the photo back from Scott. 

“Couldn’t we try?” Scott asked. 

“Scott, he lives in a nursing home three towns over,” Noah said. “Hasn’t had a visitor in years. He couldn’t help even if he w-” 

“Could I use your bathroom?” Lydia asked. She had that look like a supernatural Geiger counter was going off in her head.

“Sure,” Claudia said.

Lydia hurried off and you frowned. You set your lemonade down to go follow her, but Claudia started talking to you. 

“I love your ring,” she said. She smiled as she looked at it. “I had one just like it when I was younger.”

You looked down at your hand to find an old signet ring on your finger. It was out of place with the rest of your jewelry, but there was something about it that made it more important than the rest even though the design had worn over the years. 

“Oh, thanks,” you said, twisting it around your finger so that design was facing inwards. You weren’t sure if you wanted anyone else to look at it. “I got it for my birthday.” 

Claudia gave you another smile before excusing herself to the kitchen. At least with her gone, you could focus on the rapidly escalating conversation between Noah and Scott. What had started as a polite rejection had turned into Scott repeatedly asking why you guys couldn’t just talk to Elias and Noah saying that he didn’t need a reason for not wanting to expose his elderly father to three teenagers he’d never met before.

“You’re not hearing me,” Noah argued. They were both standing now and you stood to not feel so out of place. “Trust me, you don’t want to talk to him.”

“We just need a few minutes,” Scott begged.

“Scott, my father can’t help you,” Noah said. 

“Just a few questions. Five minutes. That’s all I’m asking-” 

Something in Noah snapped. His voice was loud and frustrated when he spoke again. “You know what? You don’t just ‘talk’ to this guy, okay?” He took a breath and lowered his voice. “Just find another way.” 

Scott started talking again when you touched his arm lightly. “Okay,” you said with a very fake smile. “We’ll find another way. Come on, Lyd, let’s get out of their hair.” 

“But-” 

“Thank you for your time.” You dragged Scott out before he could start yelling. Once the three of you were in the safety of the car and Scott was whining about you ruining their chances, you sighed and said, “Call Malia. We’re breaking into a nursing home.” 

“But you said-” 

“Scotty, you’ve known me my whole life. Can you seriously not tell when I’m lying?”

“I can tell when you’re lying,” Scott said defensively. 

“I guess you’re right,” you said and scooted forward in your seat. “I love that shirt, by the way. You should wear it more often.” 

“Really? Thanks. I-” Scott frowned at the look Lydia gave him. “Oh.”

--- 

“I can’t believe we’re about to break into a nursing home,” Scott mumbled as you, Lydia, and Malia walked up to the doors of Good Water Assisted Living.

“Scott, you realize we’ve literally broken into the school, a bank vault, a mental facility, and Davenport Prep, right?” you asked.

Malia brought your group to a stop. “Plus, after the orderlies at Eichen House, I’m pretty sure we can handle some nurses.” 

“Right, but-” 

Scott didn’t manage to get out his argument before Malia blew past you, got to the front desk, and slammed the nurse’s head into the desk. You winced as she went behind the desk and looped her arms under his to drag him somewhere. “Are you guys coming?” she asked.

“Right behind you!” You patted Scott’s arm and gave him a mischievous smile before rushing inside. 

The computer was still unlocked so you punched in for Elias’ name and his room number popped up. The four of you found it fairly quickly but he wasn’t there. After a few minutes, you found him alone in one of the common rooms listening to old jazz music.

He looked up from his desk full of papers when you came in. “Yes? Is it time for my medicine?”

“We don’t have your medicine,” Malia said, folding her arms over her chest. 

“Oh,” Elias said softly. He turned back to his desk. 

“Are you Elias Stilinski?” Lydia asked. 

Elias blinked a few times as he looked at Lydia. “I am.”

Lydia’s face broke into a smile and she made her way over to him. “I’m Lydia Martin. Do you know who I am?” 

“Should I?” Elias asked.

“Uh, hey, Mr. Stilinski,” Scott said awkwardly as he walked closer to him. “We’re looking for somebody who might be named Stiles. You went by that name in the army, right?”

“Yes,” Elias said with a small nod. He looked away from Scott as he added, “Best years of my life.”

“Do you know any of us?” Malia asked.

“Of course I do,” Elias said. He looked back up at Scott. “How could I forget my own son?”

“Your son?” Scott repeated. He looked over at Lydia for help. 

“Mr. Stilinski, what year is it?” she asked gently. 

“1976,” Elias answered instantly. “It’s my son’s birthday next week.” 

“He has dementia,” Lydia said to the rest of you. 

As if to prove her point, Elias looked back up and asked if it was time for his medicine yet. You took a collective deep breath and started explaining things to him as gently as you could. It made you agitated to be in here with him, especially as the sun went down outside, but you needed to find Stiles. 

But after repeated attempts to get Elias to stop confusing Scott with Noah, you’d become almost as grouchy as Malia. All she did was pace and steal peas from Elias’ food.

“Scott McCall?” Elias asked. Scott nodded hopefully. “No, no, no, no, no. You’re my son.”

“Keep it down, old guy,” Malia whispered harshly. She stole another few peas. “You’ll wake the other old people.”

“I don’t like her,” Elias said to Lydia. 

Lydia slipped into the chair in front of him. “Your son,” she said in an impressively patient voice. “He’s the Sheriff of Beacon Hills.”

“Sheriff?” Elias asked. “No, no, no, no, no, no. No, I- I was in the army.” 

“Just use your claws, Scott,” Malia said.

“It could kill him,” Scott said.

“I get that, but we’re running out of time,” Malia said.

“I can’t.” 

Malia growled and elongated her claws. She’d just started walking over to Elias when you stepped in front of him and Scott grabbed her wrist. You could let her abuse nurses but you refused to let her do anything to one of the Stilinskis.

“No,” Scott told her. “We’re not hurting him.”

“Young lady, you need to clip those nails,” Elias said behind you. It made you laugh. You cleared your throat and mumbled an apology but he didn’t seem to like that. “You shouldn’t be here. If you don’t leave, I’ll have to report you.”

“Uh…” Scott looked over to Lydia. “What’s wrong with him?”

“The sun went down,” she said. 

“So?”

“So, he’s sundowning,” Lydia said. “It’s when dementia patients lose their faculties after the sun goes down.” 

“Well, that would’ve been helpful information to have before the sun went down,” you snapped. 

Elias took a shaky breath. He started waving his hand around as he spoke, “I don’t want to talk to you anymore!” 

“So what do we do?” Malia asked. 

“We wait until the sun comes back up,” Lydia said. 

“We don’t have that kind of time,” you said. “The night shift will be here soon which means someone will be coming for him.” 

“No, no, no!” Elias cried. He started shuffling through his papers.

“There’s gotta be something we could do to keep him quiet,” Scott said.

Elias got more frantic and then Lydia stepped in again. She told him to look at the equations on his papers and asked him to identify different ones to help him concentrate. Miraculously, it worked. He stood and started looking at his handwritten notes. 

“Elias,” Lydia said gently to get him to sit. 

“That’s Mr. Stilinski,” Elias corrected. He frowned at each of you, almost looking like an older Noah in the low light. “Just who the hell do you think you are?”

“So you know Scott isn’t your son?” Lydia asked. 

“Of course, I know that,” Elias snapped. “Are brains getting smaller with the skirts?” 

“Excuse me-”

“Hey.” Scott put a hand on your wrist. “It’s okay.”

“You’re that McCall kid,” Elias said as he looked at Scott.

“You know me?” Scott asked. 

“I know your dad,” Elias said. He started walking around the table. “Couldn’t hold his liquor and he certainly couldn’t keep that wedding ring on his finger. Pretty young thing would walk by and poof! That ring just disappeared like magic.” 

Though you were under no impressions of your dad being a saint, you frowned at Elias' words. Malia growled, but Lydia kept her cool. “Do you know all of us?” she asked. 

Elias narrowed his eyes and then pointed a finger at Lydia. “You’re Natalie Martin’s girl, am I right? You look like her. She was pretty once, too.”

“Hey, you can’t talk to her like that-” you started chastising him but he stopped you with a look. He looked at you like he knew you. 

“I know you from the pictures,” Elias said. 

“What pictures?” you asked. 

“He only came once, but that was enough. He wouldn’t stop talking and he kept showing me these damn pictures-” 

“That’s enough.” 

You jumped at the sound of Noa’s voice. He’d walked in with the nurse that Malia assaulted, and, boy, did he look mad.

Scott tried to explain. “Sheriff, we-” 

“I explicitly told you not to come here,” Noah said. “And who attacked a staff member?”

The nurse pointed at Malia. “That’s her.”

“What the hell were you thinking?” Noah asked.

“Noah, we were just having a nice conversation,” Elias said, back to sounding frail and broken as he made his way around the table to his son.

“The four of you, out,” Noah said. “Now.”

Elias complained but Scott grabbed your hand and started leading you out. But that didn’t mean you couldn’t still eavesdrop. 

As guilty as you felt about lying to Noah and invading his privacy, you couldn’t help but feel vindicated when Elias told him to crawl back to his dead wife and loser son. You were right. Stiles was a real person. He was Noah’s son, even if he was a loser. He was your loser.

“Son,” you whispered as Malia slammed the door behind her. 

“What?” Scott whispered back. 

You flicked your eyes over to where Noah was arguing with the nurse. Leaning in, you whispered, “Stiles is Noah’s son. I’ll explain at home, okay?” 

Scott nodded quickly and tightened his grip on your hand before Noah came out and ordered the lot of you into his squad car. He was simmering with rage but he didn’t say a word the entire way to the station. 

All he said when he closed you guys in the cell was, “I’ll call your parents to pick you up.” 

The four of you were quiet as you waited for someone to show up. Melissa was at work and you’d barely seen Malia’s dad since the beginning of their senior year so your hopes weren’t very high for getting out of there. 

When Natalie showed up, she first wanted to yell at you before letting you go. 

“It doesn’t look bad, Scott. It is bad,” she said. “You broke into a nursing home, you harassed a dementia patient, and you beat up a nurse! This could affect the rest of your lives. Especially you, Malia. They’re talking felony assault.” 

“I didn’t beat him up! I could have, but I chose not to,” Malia said.

“That’s an improvement,” Lydia hummed next to you.

The door opened and Noah sighed. “By some miracle, the nurse decided to drop the charges,” he said. “They’re free to go.”

“Just because you’re not going to jail, doesn’t mean you’re not grounded for eternity,” Natalie said. 

“Triple-negative,” you said quietly. “Impressive.”

“Excuse me?” Natalie asked. 

“Nothing,” you said with a smile. “We’ll see you at school tomorrow. Thank you for looking out for us.” 

Natalie frowned at the sudden change in attitude but said she’d always look out for you guys anyway. She offered to drive you all home but you said you and Scott could walk. After some more confused looks and awkward goodbyes, you and Scott were finally alone and walking through the dark. 

“So,” he said with a deep breath. “You gonna tell me what’s been going on with you?” 

“I feel like I’m missing the part of me that makes rational decisions,” you said. “Seriously, I’m turning into Malia. I can’t concentrate on anything, I’m always angry, and I keep doing things for someone who’s not here.” 

Scott frowned. “What do you mean?” 

“I think Stiles was my anchor,” you said. You hadn’t let yourself think about the possibility before, but it made sense. All of your bad habits had started when it felt like you’d lost something. 

Scott frowned as he thought about it, but he must have come to the same conclusion you had. “Okay,” he said. “And who do you think Stiles is?” 

“I think Noah’s son,” you said. “When we were leaving, Elias yelled at Noah for leaving him in the home and choosing his loser son over him, but Noah … doesn’t have a son. At least, not one any of us remember.” 

“Wow,” Scott exhaled. “That’s pretty intense.” 

You laughed. “Yeah, but it makes sense,” you said. Scott waited for you to say something so you told him about how you kept waking up in an abandoned room. “But when we went to talk to Noah earlier, I recognized the house. It’s the same one I’ve been sneaking out of every morning.” 

“Huh, and I thought waking up in the woods was weird,” Scott said. You hit his arm and he laughed. 

The two of you bickered over each other’s bad habits the whole way home, but the lighthearted conversation didn’t erase the feelings of longing buried in your chest. Wherever Stiles was, you missed him, and no amount of teasing Scott could take your mind off it. 

But the mess you walked into as soon as you unlocked the front door almost did. 

“I’m not dealing with this,” you said instantly. You untangled yourself from Scott. “You told Liam to take care of it. He’s your beta. The two of you can clean.” 

“But I-” 

“I’m going to shower.” 

Instead of using his energy to fight a losing battle, Scott waved you off and you left him downstairs with Liam and the mess which, thankfully, hadn’t reached your locked room. You grabbed some clean pajamas and disappeared to wash off the stress of the day. 

When you came back, you reached for the Feliscore Arcade coin on your nightstand. You traced the logo with your thumb as you tried, for the millionth time, to remember. A knock at your door snapped you out of it. 

“Oh, sorry, didn’t mean to startle you,” Scott said. 

“It’s fine,” you said, closing your hand around the coin. This was one part of the mystery that you wanted to keep for yourself. “What’s up? Did someone throw up on your bed or something?” 

“What? No.” Scott frowned. “At least I don’t think so.” Then he shook his head and looked back up at you. “I wanted to tell you that Noah came by while you were showering … talking about his son.” 

You scrambled to sit up. “He remembered him? He remembered Stiles?” 

“Kind of. He said he could remember a conversation with Claudia when they were young about having kids. He wanted to name their son after father, and she said that it didn’t matter because they’d call him Stiles anyway,” Scott explained. He gave you a smile. “You were right.” 

“I was right,” you said quietly. “Thanks for telling me, Scotty.” 

Scott knocked on your door twice and smiled at the ground. “No problem. Try not to break into anyone’s house tonight.”

“No promises,” you said with a smile. 

For the first time in weeks, it was a real smile. Sure, you still didn’t have much, but you’d done more with less. You’d find Noah’s son. You’d find Stiles.

Part 47

Tagged: @ietss​  @used-avocado​

[sincerelyreidburke]

got hitched

Quick ficlet for my Bencole people. Featuring domestic Quindo. Cross-posted to the ao3 cricket ficlet collection.

//

eight years after graduation | august

 Sebastián is completely unsuspecting, when the Snapchat comes in.

The house is quiet, and he and Quinn are in bed. He figures they’ll actually go to sleep soon, or at least soonish, but for now, they sit up against their pillows, with the light still on. It’s long past Violet’s bedtime; Quinn put her down at least an hour and a half ago, and after sitting out on the patio with him for a bit, Sebastián carried his husband to bed for little to no reason other than he just felt like carrying him.

He’s watching a Coyotes preseason weekly recap on his phone, and next to him, Quinn is knitting. His yarn is royal blue and bright red; he’s working on a scarf he keeps swearing he’s going to mail up to Remy to wear to games when his season starts. To celebrate his contract , Quinn said, when he told Sebastián what he’d be doing, all self-satisfied smiles. I think he could use something new in Montreal colors, don’t you?

His needles clack together every now and then, and the audio on Sebastián’s phone is low, but it’s not like Quinn would be bothered by that anyway, seeing as he took his hearing aids out for the night hours ago. Their house, Sebastián is happily aware, is a safe zone for Quinn, has been since the day they bought it to build their life in together.

A notification buzzes his phone, and the banner at the top tells him he has a Snapchat from Ben. Which isn’t weird, until it is— because what time is it in France right now? It has to be, like, kind of early in the morning, right? In what world is Ben up early on vacation?

He opens Snapchat to investigate. The Snap has been sent into a group chat, but not a new one; it’s one containing himself, Ben, and Quinn, and has to have existed since college even though it hasn’t been used in a short while.

He opens the Snap. It loads. As it loads, he wonders if this is a leftover message from Cole’s show last night. That was, after all, the whole reason Ben crossed the Atlantic Ocean for vacation in the first place. It’s Cole’s first tour outside the US, and Ben and Remy created this whole scheme for Ben to surprise him, which Remy was on board with because he will use literally any excuse to travel to Europe, especially France, and Sebastián has heard about this over several elaborate text exchanges, phone calls, Snapchats, et cetera—

The Snap loads.

Sebastián looks at it.

Wait. Wait . WHAT?

It expires before he can fully process, but he knows what he saw. He scrambles to replay it, leaning forward and off the pillow.

It’s a picture, a selfie, of Ben in bed with Cole wrapped up in his arm. They’re both, like, clothed and everything, and they look all soft and in love, but that’s not the main point of interest.

Because Ben is holding both of their hands up to the camera, and although Cole has had his black engagement ring for upwards of two years, Ben… is also wearing a ring. And Cole is holding a piece of paper. A certificate.

The caption Ben has typed reads: got hitched

Cole is holding a marriage certificate .

Sebastián screenshots the picture before it can disappear again, and then immediately starts tapping-slash-whacking Quinn in the thigh to get his attention. He’s gentle about it, but he still feels bad when Quinn startles and shoots daggers up at him. He drops his needles and signs. What’s wrong?

In lieu of signing a response, he turns the phone to Quinn, because it’s easier than attempting to convey via sign his current stream of consciousness (Ben got married is he kidding how did he just get married in the middle of Paris on a whim oh my God he is going to bust his ass so much but also he’s pissed because he wanted to go to his actual wedding and Ben Shaley Is Actually Fucking Married he can’t believe it like yeah he knew this was coming because he’s been engaged for two years but like— Rho got married !!!!!!!?!??!????!!?!).

Quinn studies the photo, then his eyes widen with realization. In a moment, he shifts from his complete bedtime serenity to animated, excited confusion. He looks up to Sebastián, then back to the phone, then up to him again, and signs, in quick and snappy motions, They eloped? , and then, immediately, Call Ben.

Sebastián nods, as Quinn lunges to the bedside table and grabs his hearing aids. He opens the phone app, and picks Ben out of his favorites, and as it rings, he just sits there vibrating. He can’t believe it. He actually can’t believe it. Ben just went and got married. Like— okay, that’s admittedly the most Ben way he could possibly think to get married, but— is this real life?

Ben picks up on the second ring, as Sebastián is putting the call on speaker. “Helloooooo!” His voice is singsong, like he knows exactly what he did. Which, like, obviously he knows what he did. But Sebastián is still shook —

“ Dude !” he cries, half-laughing, as Quinn leans back over to him and scoots closer on the mattress. “How could you just send that out of context?”

Ben laughs. “In my defense,” he remarks, his voice the picture of chill, “it really doesn’t require that much context, right?”

Quinn fiddles with his ears, and then he must get them turned on, because he chooses that exact moment to cry, “Benjamin Shaley.”

“Mini!” The joy in Ben's voice is indescribable. “I knew you’d bitch me out for this!”

“I cannot believe you,” Quinn says. “You did not elope last night.”

“Oh, but I did,” Ben remarks, every bit the wise-ass he’s always been, and he sounds so happy , and Sebastián is, like, so fucking happy for him right now—

“Rho— congratulations , holy shit,” he tells him. “Did you plan this?”

“No,” Ben laughs. “Not even a little. And I think that’s maybe the best part. Hold on.” There’s rustling and mumbling on his end for a second, and then a fourth voice enters the conversation.

“Good morning, guys.” Cole’s voice is super raspy, like he just woke up. Sebastián tries to do some quick math, but all he can determine about time zones is that it has to be early over there. “Sorry we didn’t tell you.”

“Cole, I can’t believe this,” Quinn says. “How could you let his chaos influence you?”

“Mm.” Cole pauses, contemplatively, and then yawns. “I’ll actually be letting his chaos influence me for the rest of my life, now.”

Quinn takes a deep, therapeutic breath. Sebastián wraps an arm around his shoulders. He has, many times, seen his husband get simultaneously pissed and excited; it’s a hilarious thing to witness. “I love you both,” Quinn says, in a slightly less sharp voice. “And I’m so very happy for you. But words cannot describe how much I wanted to actually attend your wedding.”

“We’re gonna have a party, Q,” Ben replies, like he was ready for this question. “When we get home. Well. Like. Not right when we get home. But we’re gonna start planning it when we get home.”

Quinn pauses, like he’s contemplating this, and in the silence, Cole adds, “It was a spur-of-the-moment decision.”

“Well, I’ll say,” Quinn says. Sebastián thumbs at his shoulder, to soothe the good-natured rage. “My goodness , you two. I should have known you’d get married some crazy way.”

“Tell us the story!” Sebastián adds, because he is extremely eager to know.

Cole lets out a soft laugh. “It’s not a long story,” he says.

“We were at dinner,” Ben explains. “Last night, after the show, with Remy. And Cole just… out of nowhere. He was like, we should get married.”

“ Cole Kolinsky ,” Quinn gasps. “Your mother is going to kill you.”

“She knows!” Cole cries. “She knows. I promise. She’s the only person who knew before you. Her and Remy.”

“Was Rem with you?” Sebastián asks.

“He was with us when we decided to do it,” Ben says. “But not at the town hall.”

“That little shit,” Sebastián cries. “Where is he now?”

“Out galavanting in the streets, I bet,” Ben mutters, and Cole laughs at him.

“I’m sure Remy is asleep,” Cole amends. “We were out so late last night.”

Quinn rubs his temple, leans into Sebastián’s embrace, and whispers, “I cannot believe you two.”

“Oh, you love us, Quinny,” Ben says. “Don’t even try to hide it.”

“Of course I do,” Quinn replies, in that tone so characteristic of him , where he’s firm and kind at the exact same time. “My goodness,” he says. “You’re entirely too much for me.”

Cole laughs again. “I promise, Quinn,” he says, “it’ll be a really good party.”

“Oh, it best be.” The grin on Quinn’s face is so cute, Sebastián could combust. “I have very high standards.”

“Ah, yes,” Ben says, in a posh accent, “nothing but the best for the esteemed Quinny Cooper—”

“ Ben ,” Cole mumbles, and Ben laughs so loud.

“I’m so—” The initial shock has sort of worn off, but Sebastián still feels like he’s processing several things at once. “I’m so happy for you guys, jeez ! Why are you awake so early, anyway? It’s your honeymoon morning!”

“I have to—” Cole breaks his sentence with a yawn, like talking about being up early is making him more tired. “I have to be on my tour bus at eight-thirty.”

“Oh, Cole ,” Quinn whispers. “That’s a real wrench in your morning, huh?”

“Is what it is,” Cole replies.

“Wait, so… what time is it now?” As soon as he mentioned the fact that it’s their honeymoon morning, it started occurring to Sebastián that he and Quinn are… keeping them on the phone. On their first morning as a married couple. He loves his friends to death, but nobody interrupted him and Quinn the morning after they got married. It was just the two of them; even Vi was at Mama’s house for a sleepover. The only thing they had to do was bask in that fresh joy.

“It’s seven,” Ben announces. “Seven-oh-nine.”

“Okay, so,” he says, “I’m gonna, like, hang up the phone now.”

“ Nanny ,” Ben says, with a snort. “We knew you’d want to talk.”

“Yeah, but we talked,” he replies, “and now I’m hanging up so you guys don’t have to, like, talk to us until Cole leaves.”

“Hm.” Ben pauses, and then, in his peak wise-ass tone, remarks, “What if I hang up first?”

“Oh, goodness , you two,” Quinn mumbles, into Sebastián’s shoulder, “don’t get into one of these arguments.”

“Bro, you hang up first.”

“No, you hang up first—”

5,000 miles away, in a hotel bed in Paris, Ben Kolinsky hangs up the phone. He rolls over in bed and grins at his husband. “How did I do?”

Next to him under the nice white sheets, Cole is the best thing he has ever seen. He laughs, with his hand over his face, before he reaches for him. When they meet in the middle of the mattress, Cole presses a kiss to his lips. “You are an idiot,” he whispers.

“Mmm.” Ben kisses him again, and Cole wraps around him, and he thinks there’s absolutely no way heaven could be any better than this. “That’s a title I’ll proudly own, but only with an amendment.”

Cole tangles his fingers in Ben’s hair, long and now sort of messy from sleep, but who gives one single fuck what their hair looks like when they just got married to the love of their life last night. “What’s the amendment?” he asks, between kisses.

“That I’m your idiot.”

“ Oh .” Cole laughs. His eyes wrinkle shut, and Ben is going to be gone on him for the rest of his days. “You’re definitely my idiot.”

“Perfect,” Ben says, and kisses him again, and he doesn’t need anything else.

[imagineredwood]

Part 1   Part 2   Part 3    Part 4    Part 5   Part 6

Pairing: EZ Reyes x Camila

Warnings: None

Word count: 2.1k

“Entre, nena.”

Camila smiled as Felipe pushed the front door, holding it open for her as she walked in, both hands and arms occupied by the large basket she was holding.  She paused in front of him, reaching up on her toes slightly to press a kiss to his cheek. Walking in further, she placed the basket down onto the counter and blew out a breath, turning to face Felipe as he came up and peered into the wicker.

“Good harvest this month.”

Felipe nodded sincerely, eyes raking over all the produce that Camila had brought.

“I can see that. Beautiful. Good job, Camila.”

She smiled both proudly and bashfully, reaching into the basket and pulling out some tomatoes and cilantro, handing it over to him. 

“My pumpkins aren’t big enough so that’s why I didn’t bring any this time but as soon as they are, I’ll bring you some of that too.”

Felipe nodded, placing a hand on her shoulder.

“Don’t worry, nena. I know. Thank you. This is more than enough.”

The smile on Camila’s face widened and she stuffed her hands into the pockets of her jeans, a comfortable silence falling over the two of them before Felipe motioned to the back of the shop.

“Café?”

Camila shook her head softly, pulling her hands out and holding them to her tummy.

“Just ate, I’m too stuffed.”

The older man nodded and acted nonchalantly.

“With Ezekiel?”

With a tilt of her head, she tried to conceal a smile.

“How’d you know?”

Felipe shrugged and tried to hide a smile of his own.

“He told me he was taking you out for lunch. Told me quite a few times actually.”

Camila stayed quiet at that, looking down at her sneakers and letting her hair fall in front of her face to block the sight of her cheeks going rosy. They had been on a few dates by now, lunch here, diner there, maybe an ice cream in between those, but it never failed to make her giddy when she heard he was talking about her, that he was excited to see her as she was him. She’d only been to the clubhouse once, but she’d had more fun than she’d had in a long time, drinking and laughing and making new friends. Everyone had treated her well, the girls being friendly and never making her feel unwelcome. It was Friday and there was going to be another party tonight, one that she had been invited to again and she figured that must’ve meant that she’d made a decent enough impression on EZ’s brothers.

Felipe went around the counter and picked up a tortilla that he had fried not 5 minutes before Camila had shown up, lifting it towards her with an arched eyebrow and knowing smirk. She groaned and threw her head back, stuffed but mouth still watering at the look of the fresh tortilla. With a curse, she relented, holding her hand out.

“Shit. I’ve never been one to turn down a tortilla, can’t start now.”

Camila dabbed at the corner of her eye, soaking up the tear with a napkin from how hard she had been laughing. Gilly was finally done with his story about the time that Angel had tried to prank Coco by shutting off the water in the kitchen in their apartment, only to accidentally break the plumbing, flood the kitchen and give himself a concussion when he had slipped and fallen in the water, Gilly providing a hilariously dramatic roleplay of the event much to Angel’s embarrassment who had gone off somewhere outside to smoke. The laughter had died down and people had gone back to their business, Creeper making out with a girl in his lap while Tranq and Coco sat talking and smoking together. Camila settled back into the couch, looking around and taking in the décor of the clubhouse.

“Want another beer?”

Camilla looked up as she heard Angel’s voice and shook her head with a smile, lifting her half-empty beer bottle to him.

“I still got.”

Angel nodded and threw her a smile as well, plopping himself down onto the sofa next to her and tossing his arm around her shoulders lazily.

“So, how’s it going at the bookstore?”

“Good. Honest work, not to hard, and I like that environment so,”

Camila shrugged as she looked at the older Reyes brother.

“Not a bad deal.”

Angel nodded in agreement and looked around the clubhouse.

“Sal’s a good man. Helped EZ out a lot when he first got out. Not everyone wants to give you a chance when they know you got a record. Some people don’t give you much opportunity, but he gave EZ one. We knew him when we were younger, kids even.”

Angel’s voice trailed off with a sense of nostalgia and Camila stayed quiet, smiling softly as she listened to him talk. She had picked up quickly that the Reyes men didn’t often speak of the past and when they did, it was best to let them and stay quiet, simply listening as they spoke of a different time. A happier time. Often one would make a comment that would pique her interest and the other would then fill her in a little more somewhere along the line. Camila’s mother had always told her that the smartest people are those that know how to listen. So she always did, and she had learned a fair amount about the family that had become the closest thing to her own out here.

“Him and dad knew each other so you know how that goes. He and that bookstore have been good to EZ. And so has a certain bookstore keeper.”

Camila laughed and shook her head as Angel raised both eyebrows and took a swing of his beer, looking at her over the bottle before bringing it down.

“Real cool chick that works there.”

Camila blushed and pushed her shoulder into Angel’s softly, both laughing.

“Glad you think so.”

They continued with the small talk until EZ walked in, late after having to do something for the club. What it was, he hadn’t told her, but he had told her that he would meet her at the clubhouse later and what mattered was that he had kept his word. Standing up, Camila smiled at him as Angel stood up beside her as well. He tossed an arm around EZ, tugging him into his chest and bumping his head into his in a show of brotherly affection before releasing him and heading over towards Gilly and Coco, leaving the two to themselves. They were all smiles as they looked at each other, EZ reaching forward to wrap an arm around her waist and bring her into him, her hands resting on his chest. He leaned down slightly, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead, loving the twinkle that she got in her eyes every time he did that. He’d made it somewhat of a habit the past 3 weeks that they’d been seeing each other. A kiss to the forehead here, one to the cheek there. He hadn’t gone for the lips yet, not wanting to push his luck. He hadn’t exactly asked her to be his girl yet, not sure when would be the best time. He wanted to take it slow, go at a steady pace. He was still figuring out how to assimilate back into society and she was still trying to find her footing in this new place and world. So he would take his time, seeing where they ended up. It’d be a lie if he said he didn’t imagine them together though.  

They stayed in that position for a moment, just in each other’s arms before pulling away, EZ speaking first.

“Sorry I was late. I just had to get something done real quick.”

Camila shook her head, showing she understood.

“Don’t worry about it. You’re here now.”

At that, EZ nodded, smiling down at her.

“Yeah, I am. Let’s go out to the front. Creeper’s fight is just starting.”

It was nearly two in the morning by the time everything had mostly died down, more than half of the people gone and only the members and a few girls left. Angel sat off to the side, a girl next to him as he leaned down whispering into her ear, Gilly passed out on the other couch, spilled bottle of beer on the floor where it had slipped out of his hand in his drunken slumber. In the corner though, Camila and EZ were still very much awake, though a little tired. Her eyes were closed, the side of her face resting against his chest, her arms around his neck and his around her waist as they swayed softly to the music in the background. The rock and reggaeton had been switched out for some more old school tracks at Taza’s request and the couple were content with that, slow dancing for who knows how long now. It was comfortable for them, the warmth of the other’s body, the intimacy that was still subtle. EZ was tired, eyes heavy and arms aching from having to dig a six-foot grave earlier in the day. Even still, he didn’t want to move, didn’t want to ruin the moment of having Camila relaxed and in his arms. He let his cheek rest on the top of her head and his eyes close, losing track of how long they stayed there like that slow dancing until he felt her pick her head up and look up at him through tired eyes.

“It’s late, I better get going.”

EZ nodded, knowing it was the truth but not being able to deny that he didn’t want the night to end. He smiled anyway as she brought her arms down from his neck and placed her hands down on his chest softly. He covered her smaller hands with his, squeezing them softly as he nodded over to the door.

“Let me walk you out.”

“Of course.”

He kept one of her hands in his and began to guide her out of the clubhouse and into the night air. Everyone had already gone back inside and all that could be heard was the sound of crickets, the faint howl of a coyote in the distance. The light from the moon shone bright enough to let them see and they walked all the way to Camila’s car in silence.

“You good to drive?”

Camila nodded, endeared by EZ’s concern.

“Yeah, I’m good. I only had 2 beers and I ate. Thank you.”

She unlocked the car and pulled the door open, standing in the gap and looking up at EZ.

“Thanks for inviting me again. I had a lot of fun.”

“Anytime.”

EZ’s smile was bright, truly happy that she had enjoyed herself at the clubhouse but most importantly, with him. She stayed looking at him for a couple of seconds and EZ could read both the tension and hesitation. He was about to ask her what was wrong when she lifted on her tippy toes and pressed her lips to his softly before quickly pulling back and placing her fingers over her lips.

“Sorry…sorry.”

EZ didn’t bother saying anything, simply reached over and took her chin in his fingers, pulling her closer to him until his lips met hers again, this time lingering. He kissed her once more, then again, an audible clink of metal as he pulled away and he released her face, looking down at her to gauge her reaction. He chuckled softly as he realized she had dropped her car keys into the dirt, flustered. He bent down and picked them up before handing them to her and placing his hand on the side of her face.

“Been wanting to do that for a while.”

Camila laughed breathlessly and leaned into his touch.

“Sorry I beat you to it.”

Neither of them said anything else about it, the sound of the clubhouse door opening behind them had EZ pushing her softly towards the car.

“You gotta get going, I don’t want you out too late.”

Camila nodded and hopped in, allowing EZ to close the door behind her.  He watched as she started the car up and began to pull out of the lot, watching until she was driving off before he turned around to head back inside. Up on the balcony stood both Angel and Coco, stupid grins on their faces as they looked at him, Angel smoking another cigarette while Coco spoke.

“Already whipped, prospect?”

[smallest-clown]

Who am I to you?

It started with a kiss. That’s all it took. All it took to have Eddie silencing his sobs with his pillow that night. Then that kiss turned into Richie skipping lunch with the losers every couple of days to go make out with his side piece in the janitor’s closet. That made Eddie not come to lunch either. Then those little moments away from the group turned into Richie skipping out on his and Eddie’s plans to go hang out with his girlfriend, which in turn made Eddie stop hanging out with the Losers all together.

He didn’t want to be anywhere near Richie or anything associated with him.

Richie meant everything to Eddie. He would hide it behind all the jokes and fights and insults, but he loved Richie so much. Ever since 6th grade, Eddie had wanted to be more to Richie than just his friend, but the comments Richie made about gay people made Eddie hide his feelings a lot. Everything about Richie made Eddie’s heart flutter. He just wanted to be his, and be able to look at Richie and think “he’s mine”

The only time Richie and Eddie saw each other after that was English class. But instead of having desks pressed together, passing notes, loud laughs and unfinished work, Richie and Eddie were on opposite sides of the classroom. Richie with his girlfriend, and Eddie on his own. Eddie’s work was done much quicker, much better as well. The teacher was happy that he didn’t have Richie weighing him down.

Eddie wasn’t. Nobody had seen him smile in weeks. Occasionally, the other Losers would individually spend some time with him. He always seemed closed off, his demeanour no longer overactive and extreme. It was obvious he was depressed.

Richie wasn’t doing so well either. Sure, he was happy with his girlfriend, Lucy, but he was still upset. Eddie wasn’t talking to him, and all the other Losers were barely giving him the time of day. He almost wanted to break up with her so that things could go back to the ways they were. But that’s insane. He loves her.

He loves her. Eddie thought as he watched the two cuddle up to each other in class. He just lay his head down on his desk. He had finished all the work leading up until next Monday. He just let himself melt into the wooden table.

Richie watched from across the class. Eddie would usually be freaking out about how disgusting the tables were. He would barely touch them, to the point where certain teachers would keep spray bleach bottles in their classes to let him clean the desk before sitting in it. But here he was, face pressed fully into it. That made Richie nervous. God, something must be wrong. This wasn’t like Eddie at all.

The teacher started handing out graded works. Some sort of creative writing type of thing. She handed Lucy’s hers, and then Richie’s his. A large 98% of the top. Richie’s eyes almost popped out of his head. This was impossible! He had written some bullshit about coyotes roaming through the desert and starting fights. Even though he was a straight-A student, English was kicking his ass this year for some reason. It didn’t really matter though, he’d already gotten accepted into his dream college, so a few bad English grades wouldn’t do that much damage. And besides, the school year was ending in a week. Graduation had already passed and most of the exams were done. But there’s no way in hell he got this high of a grade for what he wrote. He checked the name on the top.

E. Kaspbrak

The teacher had given him Eddies and his. He checked his own quickly. 57%. Yup, that made more sense. But now he was curious. Eddie used to always show him his work beforehand. Used to always ask for his opinion. He glanced over to see Eddie asleep on his desk. Guess what the kid doesn’t know won’t hurt him? Richie began reading.

‘Who am I to you? What place do I take in your mind? What do you see me as? Am I your friend? Your foe? Someone just for you to talk to? Was I used to fill in an empty space? Do you really need me, or are you just using me for my kindness? I’ve had people like that in my life before. I was used by those people because I was submissive to them. They just used me because I let them. I never fought them on it. I let them use me for whatever they wanted. I let them treat me like shit just because I was afraid of being all alone. In my head, being alone was worse than being abused and made fun of. I would rather be called horrible names, be embarrassed about myself, hate every single thing about myself than be left alone to my own devices. I now have to pay for that. I have to pay for my actions. I can’t look at myself in the mirror without hearing the names they would call me. Fag, dumbass, useless, a waste of space. I had heard about abusive relationships before, but I thought that I couldn’t possibly be in one. Am I like that to you? Just a punching bag for your words or a punchline at the ends of your jokes? Do I even matter to you? Am I worth your time? My mind made up these situations where you admit to me how much you hate me and how you find me worthless, and I started believing them. I let my mind create multiple situations where you leave me and let me be, and that’s what I’m afraid of. I’m afraid of you leaving me. And right now, I think you just did’

Richie’s heart shattered like a mirror getting hit with a baseball. Eddie, his Eddie, was feeling this way. His Eddie didn’t feel wanted. Richie kept himself from crying. He made a mental note to talk to Eddie after school about all this. “Babe? Is everything alright?” Lucy asked from beside him. “Yeah babe, everything alright.”

The rest of the school day felt like it was going on forever for Richie. It was only two classes but it felt like every second passing by was actually a minute. But when the last bell rang, he sprinted out of class to his locker. It wouldn’t be hard to find Eddie, he takes the same route to walk himself back home every day. He hasn’t changed it since they started going to this school. That’s something that Richie liked about Eddie. His consistency. He needed that in his life. His mind would bounce from subject to subject so quickly that nothing was ever exactly the same to him. He could never do something twice exactly the same. But Eddie, Eddie could continuously do everything exactly the same all the time. He needed those patterns to exist. Richie envied that.

“If you were in such a rush to see me, I could’ve met you at your class silly.” A voice said as Richie frantically packed up his bag. “Oh, Lucy, Hi. Listen I’m going to have to cancel our plans for tonight. I really need to see a family friend.” Richie watched as confusion and then hurt painted this poor’s girl’s face. “Oh, alright. I’ll see you later I guess.” She mumbled as she walked away. Richie felt bad. Every time he tried to cancel plans with her, she’d take it as a personal hit. That’s why he had been blowing Eddie off, cause he knew that Eddie would understand better than Lucy.

Girls were complicated. They didn’t always settle like guys did. Most of the guys Richie knew would take whatever answer they were given and settle with it, but girls would argue and try to get their point across. Girls needed to be right. Guys liked to be right. Richie really did believe this.

Richie ran as fast as possible from his locker, out the front door, past the parking lot, just in time to catch Eddie leave the school property. “Fuck!” Richie sighed out when he finally stopped running. Eddie barely noticed who was behind him, thinking it was the younger students that had taken a liking to him and would walk home with him every few days. “Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?” Eddie asked, still not turning around. “No, but I kiss yours, and she seems to enjoy it.” Eddie froze and his heart dropped so fast it practically hit his feet. Richie. It was Richie. “H-hi trashmouth.”

Eddie had no plan, no idea what he should do. God, why did Richie have to be like this? He was so socially unaware of everything happening around him, he never seemed to take how others were feeling into consideration. Eddie wished he could be more like Richie, not caring what others think, not needing their approval. He wished he could just blow through life saying and doing whatever he wanted and not having to take any guff from people. He wished he was brave enough to just be himself.

“So, Eddie Spaghetti, y’know in English class today? When Mrs. Cass handed out our work?” Eddie didn’t remember. What work? He shook his head, indicating to Richie that he hadn’t been aware of this. “Oh right, you were asleep. Well, you see, Mrs. Cass was handing out our corrected creative writing work, and I guess her brain was still used to us sitting next to each other cause she gave me your work too.” If Eddie’s heart was at his feet, his stomach had joined it. He had written that very quickly one night when he was upset and just handed it in without giving a second thought. He wasn’t usually the one to make a vent work, but he had done it this time. He didn’t think anyone besides his teacher would read it. But knowing that Richie read it made him afraid. Those were his private feelings, a secret message he had made for the boy, and he had read it like it was nothing. “W-why would you do that?” He hissed. Richie was taken aback. He hadn’t seen any malice with what he had done. He was concerned for his friends well being, why was he acting so offended “Do you still have it, Richie?” He snapped afterwards. “Uh, yeah, here it is.” Richie said confusingly, handing the smaller boy his paper. Eddie grabbed it as fast as possible and started walking away. “Wait! Where are you going?” “Home.” Eddie had quickened his pace. It was obvious he was trying to get out of there as fast as possible. “I thought maybe we could hang out to make up for the times I couldn’t.” Richie said, jogging to catch up with the smaller boy. But he had stopped abruptly hearing that. Eddie was filled with rage, and it was evident with his body language. “Make up for the times you couldn’t? No Richie. You’d be making up for the times you blew me off just so you could spend time with Lucy! You didn’t ask me beforehand, you never gave me a heads up that you weren’t coming! That was a real dick move Rich.” Richie didn’t know how to react. He really thought Eddie would’ve understood. “I-I just thought-” “Did you think I wouldn’t care? You think I would’ve just been like ‘Welp, better luck next time.’ You know me by now Richie.” Eddie continued walking home. “Eddie I’m sorry but we really need to talk. Eds, slow down! Eddie, you scared me!” He shouted. Eddie turned around to face him. “Your writing, it scared me so much. I-I didn’t know you w-were feeling like that. I was scared that you were going to do something bad Eds. Please, just let me hang out with you tonight. let me know you’re ok. I’m sorry.”

Eddie took a deep breath. Everything was too much right now. He was just moments from crying. “I’m fine Richie, really. Just….just go hang out with your girlfriend.” Eddie turned himself back around, dead set on leaving for home for real now.

Richie was struck with a realization. This wasn’t about the reading of the paper. This was about something else. Richie could tell by the way Eddie had said girlfriend

“Wait, are you mad at me for having a girlfriend?” The question hit Eddie right in the chest, making him lose his breath. “N-no.” Richie could tell he was lying. “You are. You’re jealous of her. Listen Eds, I’m not your property. I can hang out with who I want. I can date who I want. I don’t belong to you. I’m sorry for blowing you off but I thought you’d understand cause you're my friend.” Eddie’s lips trembled with the feeling of holding back tears. He still had his back to Richie. “I cancelled plans with her tonight cause I’m concerned for you! God, you’re such a whiny bitch.”

That’s all it took. Those words said usually teasingly, now said to hurt him. Those words were all it took to break Eddie’s heart. And all it took for Eddie to try to break Richie’s nose.

For the first time in his life, Edward Kaspbrak threw a punch. He turned around without thinking and punched Richie square in the face. He could hear himself screaming shut up while he did it, but the aftermath was a gut-wrenching silence. Richie held his breath as he saw the blood on his fingers. It was coming from his nose. He was hurt and concerned for himself, but he couldn’t help but chuckle.

“You finally did it Eds. You finally stood up to me.”

Eddie couldn’t stop himself from crying as he apologized profusely. “Hey, don’t be sorry. You’ve got a good punch. Bill teach you how to do that?” He chuckled, spitting out the blood that had leaked into his mouth. He knew he pushed Eddie too far. It was evident. “Beep fucking beep Richie.” Eddie hissed as he pulled tissues out of his backpack. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t very kind of me. You wouldn’t think like that bud.” Eddie wasn’t used to Richie being so calm. It was as if the punch had rebooted him. “Richie, you’re in shock.” “Of course I’m shocked, you just punched me Eds.” “No! That’s not what- nevermind. We need to get you cleaned up.” Eddie continued to clean up the bloody nose. They were lucky almost none got on Richie’s clothes. They even took a quick jog to the pharmacy to get some water to clean it up, asking the obviously coke buzzed pharmacist if Eddie had succeeded at breaking Richie’s nose. He said no, but some bruising would definitely appear. Richie smacked Eddie’s back in pride, saying something along the lines of ‘Eddie spaghetti finally grew some balls huh?’ But Eddie felt nothing like that.

Eddie felt sick to his stomach. He knew that Richie was right, that’s why he reacted the way he did. He didn’t want anyone, especially Richie, knowing how he felt about him. So he needed to shut him up. His heart was so heavy with guilt. Richie was praising him for his reaction, but Eddie this wasn’t something you’d praised someone for. He was hiding his secret behind the pain Richie was in.

Eddie let Richie stay the night out of pity. His mom was quite surprised to see the boy but didn’t question it. She had learned to just let Richie over or else Eddie would just run off to his house. She didn’t question the bruises on Richie’s face, mumbling something about his father under her breath. Eddie was so nervous and stressed about having the boy in his house, he didn’t notice Richie intensely looking at his arms when he took his coat off, sighing in relief when he saw nothing there besides unmarked skin.

The boys ran up to Eddie’s room. Richie immediately threw himself onto Eddie’s bed, a lopsided grin on his face as he waited for Eddie to join him in the bed to cuddle like they usually did. But he didn’t. He stood in the doorway with his arms crossed over his stomach as he stared at the ground. “Richie...I know you said you didn’t care and that your proud of me for punching you….but, did I hurt you?” Richie looked like he was contemplating his answer. His throat flexed and then relaxed, indicating he gulped his saliva. “Well, you obviously hurt me, but like you didn’t cause any emotional pain I guess?” “Yeah, I get that. But like, if anyone else would’ve done that, any of the other losers, you would’ve beat them up so hard and not talked to them for days. Why are you treating me differently?”

Another gulp. There were things that Richie was hiding, parts of himself he was afraid of letting anyone else know. He felt his incisors bite down on the tip of his tongue to control himself. Every ounce in his body was screaming at him to just say it. Every muscle pulling him into Eddie’s arms, his heart racing in his chest, his lungs breathing in quicker and quicker. Three words, that’s all it was. It would only take three little words and he’d know. That there was a reason he didn’t go out with a girl until now. There was a reason he’d been so close to Eddie for such a long time. There was a reason that at night he had to convince himself that he loved Lucy and that he wanted to stay with her. A taunting voice at the back of his head told him to say it, to just get it over with. But for once in his short life, Richie thought before he spoke.

“It’s cause I’m nervous for you.” Eddie was confused and it evidently showed on his face, because Richie continued. “That thing you wrote. It wasn’t just a thing for the English class. I know you Eds, you always write from the heart. And I’ve never seen you write anything like this before. I didn’t want to leave you alone tonight….in case bad things happened.”

Eddie sucked in a breath. That fucking paragraph “Things between us have been weird recently since Lucy came into my life, and I’m sorry that I haven’t been paying enough attention to you….I-I’ve noticed that you haven’t been as happy as you usually are and I feel responsible for some reason. I just don’t want you to do anything dumb.” Eddie was quiet, still barely standing in his room. Richie was now sitting up in the bed. Neither of them were looking at each other. It wasn’t long before Richie heard Eddie take in stuttered breaths. “you were right.” He said in such a quiet voice Richie thought he imagined it. “You were right Rich, I’m mad that you have a girlfriend. I feel like you’ve left me.” Richie looked up at him. His nose and cheeks were blushed and his eyes were watering a lot. Richie stood up quickly to hug and comfort him. “Hey hey hey, it’s alright. I’m not leaving you. We’re still friends after all.” “No Richie, you don’t fucking get it.” Eddie said as he pushed him away. Richie just stood there in shock. “It feels like I’ve lost my chance. I know you love her and I’m happy for you, I just wished that were me. I just wished that I was more to you than your friend. I want to kiss you and call you mine. I want to share a bed with you and be able to hold you without it feeling weird. Ever since middle school friends I’ve been teetering between better of as lovers or better off without each other, and when I lost you I knew that the later wasn’t what I needed. “you’re everything to me. There isn’t a day that goes by where I don’t think of you, where I don’t crave your dumb jokes and general dumbassery. Seeing you with her has torn a hole through my heart and I was scared that if I didn’t tell you how I feel soon, it was just going to grow into a crater that could never be filled. I know you most likely don’t feel the same, and I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry for telling you, but you needed to know. I’m sorry that I’m too late.”

It was as if a flood gate of emotions had been opened and Eddie couldn’t keep anything in. He needed to say these things. He meant every word of the emotional rant and just stood there in the puddle of his regret, tears leaving his eyes as if he was a cloud and his shirt was the world, raining down and creating a wet patch.

Both boys just stood there frozen looking at each other after Eddie had said his little speech. Richie was crying. Staring directly at Eddie. He didn’t say anything as he picked up his backpack and left the house altogether.

Eddie broke down, throwing himself into his bed and crying into his pillow. He knew it was a bad idea. He was such an idiot. He’s lost Richie for good now, it was clear to him. Nothing mattered. His mind drifted to the box under his mom’s bed that she kept in case someone ever tried to hurt them, but pulled himself away from that quickly. What the fuck was he thinking? His crush didn’t like him and he might’ve just lost his best friend, but that’s not a reason to kill himself. He needed to talk to someone about this, and quick. He grabbed the phone next to his bed and dialled a familiar number. “Stanely Uris speak-” “Stan! I told him!” Silence from the other end of the line. Eddie could hear Stan closing a door and then returning to his bed. “How did he react?” “Left my house immediately.” There was a sigh from the other end of the line. Stanley could hear the hurt in Eddie’s voice. A slight tremble that wasn’t there usually. “Richard Tozier, you dumbass.” He mumbled to himself as he grabbed his bag. No use talking over the phone, Eddie needed to be comforted in person. “Eddie, I’m sorry that I’m hanging up now, but I’m on my way over.” “Alright, Stan.” They hung up their phones and Stan made his way over, making a slight detour towards the man of the hour’s house.

Eddie had told Stanley by accident in 9th grade. Eddie had a knack for sleep talking occasionally, only when he took medications that sedate you. That night in particular he had a slight scratch in his throat so his mother had begged him to take a dose of some cough medicine. When he had fallen asleep, he was quite verbal during his dream in which he and Richie seemed to be doing….things. Stan had stayed awake laying on the floor next to Eddie, debating keeping this to himself or mentioning it to Eddie the next day. In the morning, while the two were making breakfast for themselves since Mrs. K had run out to do her daily errands, Stan asked him what his dream was since the nightly noises seemed to indicate he was having a ‘fun time’. Eddie lost his breath hearing Stan say that. He had tried to stutter out an excuse but Stan silenced him with a hug, comforting him and saying that he was fine with him being gay, telling him he’s proud of him. Eddie broke down in Stan’s arms, crying and clinging onto him for dear life. Stan cried a bit too, admitting his crush on Bill. The boys spend the rest of the morning talking about their fears.

Stan slammed his fist against Richie’s front door, hearing some yells behind it. Went opened the door and stared down at the unimpressed looking teenager. “I need to borrow your son.” “RICHIE!!!! ONE OF YOUR FRIENDS IS HERE!!!” He yelled before walking back into the living room. Richie sulked his way down the stairs to the entrance. “Look, Eddie, I’m not in the mood to talk- oh hey Stan the man, what’s up?” Richie said, trying to hide his awkward hurt mood with the usual nickname. Stan almost audibly gasped at the bruise formed on Richie’s face but ignored it. He just grabbed Richie by the ear and started to drag him down the road. “owowowowowowow! Stan what the fuck! ow where are we going?” Stan didn’t say anything as he dragged the boy towards the house he had been at less than an hour earlier.

Richie was finally able to free himself when they were only a few houses away. “Stan! I can’t go back in there...He must hate me.” He grabbed his temples, frustrated with his past actions. He wasn’t ready for Eddie to tell him. Well, he wasn’t ready to tell Eddie he felt the same way. He had known for a while that he wasn’t straight, but had denied himself from accepting that. He refused to think of himself as gay. He loved Eddie, he wanted Eddie the way he wanted him. But he had ruined things. Eddie probably hated him. He looked up to see Stan giving him the most ‘I’m about to smack you so hard you’re great-grandchildren will feel it so don’t try me.’ look.

“Oh, he must hate you? After you walked out after he confessed his love for you after hiding this secret since 6th grade? Oh no, I’m sure you’re fine.” He said in a sarcastic tone as he knocked on Eddie’s door. He knew these dumbasses weren’t going to fix things on their own so he had to give them that push to solve their problems. “Stan! There you are…..” Eddie trailed off when he noticed Richie standing next to him.

Stan didn’t let either of them say anything, he just grabbed them by their hands and dragged them upstairs to Eddie’s room, throwing them both in there. “I’m going to stand outside this door and neither of you are allowed to leave until you solve your problems.” He said right before he slammed the door shut.

The two stood there unable to think, barely able to breathe. Where were they supposed to go from there? Neither of them knew what to say. But Richie just went with it. “I’m sorry for leaving….I panicked.” He mumbled, looking over Eddie’s face for any sign of emotion. He just nodded solemnly. “You should be yelling at me.” Eddie just shook his head. He looked like he was going to say something so Richie gave him the room to speak. “You don’t yell at the people you love.” Richie’s heart started beating faster. He still loved him. The statement reminded him of earlier that day, the bruising punch Eddie gave him and his internal refusal to react. He loved Eddie too much to be mad, even if the punch really did hurt, how in the hell does someone his size hit like that? No! Focus trashmouth.

Stan was trying his best to listen along to the conversation through the door. “Stanley Uris? Well isn’t this a shock.” Mrs. Kaspbrak said as she stood at the end of the hallway. Stan sighed under his breath and turned to the large woman with an even larger smile. “Hello Mrs. K! How are you?” He said, needing to keep this woman as far away from the room as possible to keep Eddie and Richie safe. “Well Eddie didn’t tell me you were coming over.” She said as she waddled towards the door. “Uh well yeah. We were studying with Richie but took a quick break. Say, Mrs K, you’ve been to the new pharmacy in town. How is it? How’s the service. Spare no detail.” Eddie was going to owe him a big one later. “Oh god, the place is a disaster! It’ll take me hours to break down the complexity of how horrendous it is.” “I’ve got all the time in the world. Let’s go to the living room to chat!”

Richie and Eddie were sat in silence again, the two still trying to find words. Richie had sat himself down on Eddie’s bed, the asthmatic joining him. They’d been there for a few minutes. “I-I I’m sorry I made things weird.” Eds said, not looking up from his lap. Richie gave him a sideways glance. “You don’t have to apologize. You told me stuff that was bothering you. You’re allowed to do that.” More silence. Richie’s brain was trying to focus but, as usual, his brain was jumping between twenty thoughts at once. ‘God Eddie is so cute, I like him so much, I want to kiss him so badly, I need to break up with Lucy, but it’ll crush her, but this is hurting Eddie so much.’ He was sure of what he needed to do. Lucy would understand. She’d be upset, sure, but it was wrong keeping a relationship he didn’t care that much about going. He turned towards Eddie, gently placing his hand on top of his. “Hey, Eds?” “Hmm?” Richie took a deep breath, wiping his sweaty hands on his dirt and grass-stained ripped jeans. He could do this. “I...um...alright. I like you too.” Eddie had to stop himself from grabbing the inhaler in his pocket cause holy fuck oh my god Richie fucking Tozier said he liked him too. His heart was racing a million miles a minute. Richie took another breath and continued. “Remember all those things you said earlier? I feel all those things too. I-I want to be to you what you want to be to me. Does that make sense?” Eddie nodded, a wide smile growing on his face as happy tears fell down his face. “I want to be your boyfriend. Not just your friend. I want to call you mine. I know I won’t be the perfect boyfriend, but I will do my best for you Eds...I-I love you. I love you so fucking much.” He said, starting to cry as well. Both of them just sat there looking at each other, smiling and crying. This was it. The moment the two of them had been hoping for years. It was finally happening. “I love you too.” Eddie whispered, his voice trailing off a bit as he said the last word, muffled by his crying. Eddie gently placed his hands on Richie’s cheeks, wiping away some of the stray tears that fell. He slapped the right one quickly. “That’s for leaving.” He mumbled, moving closer to Richie. He wrapped his arms around Richie’s neck, pulling his face closer. He gently placed his mouth on his. The kiss was soft, sweet and perfect. Emotions and feelings poured into every movement both boys made. This was the tender moment the two had craved for years. When they finally pulled away, they had the biggest smiles on their faces. “And that’s for coming back.” Eddie said teasingly. Richie pulled Eddie by his shoulders into another kiss, laying down and dragging Eddie onto him. They continued to fool around until Eddie pulled away. “I feel like we’re forgetting something” the two took a moment until realization dawned on them. “STAN!”

note: I’m lowkey proud of this. it’s my longest one shot to date. It’s also kinda a vent fic I guess?

[phantomphangphucker]

Ectober Day 18: Whispers - A Strange Kind Of Ferality Chap. 1: Hushed Voices To End Mundane Life

People say a lot of things, and they’ll speak the most about the strange and usual. Sometimes words make living normal impossible for those who are not normal.

For Danny’s own sake he always tried to avoid paying attention to the whispers. Or simply not being around for people to start making them. They always made his paranoia war with itself. If he paid attention their hushed words it would make him paranoid. If he ignored them he’d be paranoid about what they could be saying and wanting to find out. And sometimes he actually did need to know.

So, if he’s honest, sometimes super ghost hearing kind of sucked.

In the beginning they weren’t so bad. Always about simple things or things that didn’t matter all too much. Sure sometimes they hurt or annoyed him, but what did Danny care that everyone thought his parents were weird and crazy? They weren’t really wrong and Sam’s right, weird’s good. Danny considers himself an example of that.

‘I still can’t believe those lunatics were even allowed to keep those kids’.

‘I heard they perform weird experiments, probably only themselves too’.

‘What if they kill someone to prove their theories?’.

But like all young teens, eventually he stepped out of his parents' shadow, the whisperings around town became more about him. But when it came mostly from teachers and judgemental adults, Danny couldn’t even attempt to bring himself to care. Sure he wanted people proud of him as Fenton, but being the hero always came first. If his grades and ‘good kid’ status had to suffer then so be it.

‘He used to be so bright, now he’s just another problem child’.

‘Oh look it’s the little ‘baddie’ thinking he’s cool or whatever for breaking stuff’.

‘I think the weirdo Fenton kid is missing a bladder or something...experiment gone wrong you think?’.

When it really started to bug Danny, is when people started noticing he was seemingly involved in ghosts without being involved in ghosts.

‘Why’s he always around? Does he just like seeing the end results?’.

‘I’m pretty sure I saw Fenton running AT a ghost fight actually’.

‘I overheard some ghosts talking about him. Thought it was about Phantom at first but they mentioned his ‘hunter parents’. Pretty obvious who the town’s hunter parents are’.

But that sort of thing was easy enough to pass off, to explain, and for people to simply shrug off. They were the curious kinds of whispers not the concerned or secretive kinds of whispers. But when his body became the focus, that’s when he knew there was going to be trouble and when he started pulling away from people, from the public. After all, there’s only so much baggy sweaters and loose clothing can cover. And wearing that all the time was suspicious in and of itself. What was worse was that he was actively proud of what all his hero work had earned him in both physique and scars. And sometimes bodies just naturally wanted to show off, even if he pushes it down as best as possible.

‘Dude, did you see Fenton stretching? The Hell has he been doing all summer to look like that?’.

‘I saw Todd throw a pencil at the back of his head, he caught it without even turning around’.

‘I saw down his shirt and there’s this nasty scar. It’s like someone tried to murder him or something. Think he’s in a gang or some shit?’.

And it was obvious at this point, to Danny, that people were only going to notice more. Which they did. People were curious things, they were hooked on his oddness. He always did his best to hide his more ghostly features. Grew his hair out to cover his tapered ears, started a habit of wearing beanies. But hats couldn’t always stay on and hair moved. Made a habit of always covering his mouth when he yawned, only ate small foods in public, drank through straws. The thing his friends found the saddest is that he had to stop laughing so damn much, though he’d often just covered his mouth instead. But people notice when behaviours change like that and people will always be able to catch glimpses. His nails were the easiest, simple trim every morning. But even trimmed they were still just a little too sharp. So he developed the habit of not touching people, but a hero’s fighting instincts and ghost instincts were strong things. Sometimes he really couldn’t help grabbing Dash’s arms when he tried to choke him or drag him somewhere. That didn’t go unnoticed.

‘The little freak scratched me. And look at this shit? It looks like a damn cat scratch. The Hell?’.

‘I managed to get the cafeteria to serve burgers right? Fenton loves those things and, I swear to you, he had FANGS’.

‘So I punched the locker next to his face, yeah? Teach the loser who runs this school. But I think his ear scratched me. HIS EAR. How is that even possible?’.

At least stuff like that, he really could pass off as body modification. People did that. Which his how he quelled his paranoia back then. So long as he had an easy excuse it was easy. But it was inevitable that people would eventually notice his ‘angry eyes’ problem or his ghost sense. It was honestly a miracle they didn’t in the very beginning. Though both him and even his parents, simply passed off those rumours as being because of his strange ecto-contamination. People still whispered. Especially about his eyes.

‘Walked into the bathroom and I swear, the kids' eyes were glowing as he stepped out of a stall’.

‘Half the time I go after him he does that damn eye-trick thing for a split second. It’s like he’s trying to be some scary ghost or something. It’s pathetic really’.

‘Honestly, I just avoid looking at his face now. It’s just so creepy. Especially if you think over how he probably got that. His parents are scientists! He’s probably, like, Frankenstein’s monster or something’.

But when people started whispering about behaviours, pointedly not human behaviours, that’s when Danny’s paranoia really came to a head. He couldn’t just not snarl and growl. It came too easily. And being around Sam and Tucker more than the rest of society came with its down falls. He could be himself around them, he got comfortable being himself around them. But that made it easier to slip up in public. Sometimes they tried to call him on it, but often that just ran the risk of people being more likely to notice. Then there was the compounded problem. Snarls required showing teeth. Sounds made people look. One thing getting noticed leads to other things getting more noticed. Whispers compounding.

‘He holds his hands like claws half the time, pretty sure he actually extended claws once’.

‘He came in this morning snarling and bearing those damn fangs at the floor for, like, two whole periods. Even my dog doesn’t do that’.

‘I bumped into that Fenton kid on the street, you know the one. Short and kind of acts like a feral animal. Yeah, well, pretty sure he growled at me and there’s was this weird glow to his face’.

But at least even those whispers could be passed off. Teens acted weird, that was considered a fact by adults. The fact that there were wolf packers, kids who like to pretend to be werewolves and in a pack, helped. Everyone knew those kids ran around howling and would growl at people. But it didn’t help him that they kept trying to make him ‘one of them’. Sure it would be a nice cover story but it would draw more attention to him. Especially since people already thought his snarls and growls were more ‘real’.

‘Okay dude, look at this. So I recorded Fenton when Dash tried punching him yesterday. And look, I put it next to my dog snarling. Fenton sounds more animalistic, and like, look how Fenton holds his mouth? It’s the same, more aggressive even’.

‘My night was not fun, I got woken up but what I could have sworn was coyotes fighting, but no. It was that creepy Fenton kid and some biker dude getting in each other’s faces’.

‘I’m positive he was just about to bite you. And not like those cringy kids with the weird lunging bit they do’.

But of course, of course, that lead to them really noticing. Noticing things he himself didn’t. Which was far far more worrying. How could he hide something if he wasn’t even the first to notice? Sam and Tucker too used to him to notice the gradual change themselves. And once others picked up on it, even one, it was pretty well too late. It fell into the gossip mill and then everyone was looking for it. About reflexes and senses. Even his paranoia was being noticed.

‘He literally never opens any doors while in-front of them. Like he’s about to be attacked or something’.

‘We need code words for the freak. Pretty sure he can hear us. And look! See! His ears damn twitched! He totally can’.

‘I’m not sure if I’m happy or terrified. I nearly ran over the Fenton boy, should have slammed straight into his back. But he fucking backflipped over my car, the entire damn thing, at the last second. How the Hell’.

But when the whispers became dangerous. Got him fully avoided. Got the G.I.W. to come knocking. He knew he didn’t really have much of a choice anymore. He had to leave. Not fully, no, just a town away. Just hide, a name change here, style change there. Seems people could deal with weird. Didn’t really care about it other than it was good gossip. Until they started putting things together, until they started to feel like you were a wolf and they were sheep. The bad part was, they weren’t wrong. And like all ghosts, Danny has pride. He, by his very nature, wanted fear, to scare, to alarm. And that always got harder to hide, to ignore. But the body and mind have ways of getting around its own barriers. Doing things so subtle you might not notice at all. All it took was slight changes in posture, how his eyes looked, how he moved. And he became a predator amongst prey.

‘Is it just me or does Fenton look like he’s actively stalking people? Like a cat or something? It’s really damn creepy’.

‘He stares, like constantly. He just doesn’t blink enough and he seems to scan rooms. Like there’s some threat, it makes me feel uncomfortable. But what’s worse is how he looks over everyone, scans them over, it’s like he’s picking out prey or something’.  

‘I swear the freak can tell when people are looking at him. Like just watch, his posture will change. Slightly tense like he’s about run off. And you can easily see his face and hands, he’s being threatening. It pisses me off that it works’.

Of course, his friends would never let him skip town on his own. It was only a lucky thing they were off in university by this time and he was perfectly content to keep them in the dark. Besides, if they up and ran off too. People would whisper.

And looking around, that’s one thing he likes about bigger cities. Even more so when you looked all for the world like a battered, easily ignored, poorly dressed, homeless man. When people whispered it wasn’t anything to be alarmed about.

‘Poor man, wonder when the last time he washed was’.

‘Gross, I really wish this damn city would clean up the filth. How can I let my daughter walk around with people like that just sleeping on the sidewalk’.

‘Hmpf, probably just another damn druggie’.

But of course that would change.

‘Wait...he’s not actually sleeping? Weird’.

He’d have to watch himself more.

‘Oh holy shit, that bastards got fangs?!?’.

He’d have to move around more.

‘Don’t go downtown, there’s some creepy predatory guy there. He hasn’t hurt anyone from what I hear, but it’s all in how he moves. In his eyes’.

People would eventually actively start seeking him out, a mystery to solve.

‘Dude, we have to steal his bag. I heard some kids from the park did and he reacted like a feral dog or some shit’.

Connections would be made, people would start to feel unsettled or scared

‘Destruction seems to follow that one. Keep your distance’.

And he’d have to pack, leave in the dead of night.

‘His eyes, you can see them in the dark. Pretty sure they’ll follow you too. Whatever he is, he sure as Hell isn't a human’.

Of course, he made sure he found his way back to Amity, as Fenton, here and there. Especially when his friends got back. But the downfall of leaving, of running off. Is that it was impossible for people to not notice his return. And being alone for so long would make anyone act less human, less socially normal. For someone who wasn’t actually entirely human, you might as well just write normal off as a lost cause.

‘James! James! That Fenton boy’s back! He snarled at someone’s dog. Should we do something?’.

‘How is he more off? He’s so...twitchy. Like he’s constantly on the edge of trying to murder someone or something’.

‘He came into the cafe and he just stared around for a while. Then he drank nothing but espresso shots and I’m sure he ate a spoon. He even clacked his teeth at me after ordering’.

So yeah, the G.I.W. would come. He’d wind up getting tracked. But Amity was his and that wasn’t ever-changing and he was a goddamn force to be recond with. And his friends would come back, they would take him by the arms and all three would slingshot at the future. Like always. Because, after all, Fenton wasn’t the only one people whispered about.

‘Okay, I’m pretty sure that goth is actually a witch. Summoning ghosts and shit. ‘Cause they’re always near her’.

‘She has a pet Venus-flytrap in her purse, it bit me’.

‘I swore she ran through a fire just to throw her boot at someone for insulting that freaky Fenton’.

‘If that technofreak is visiting the bank then no way am I. I heard he got put on a watch list for hacking a plane, twice’.

‘He scaled a thirty-story building just to clean his windows, who does that?’.

‘I walked in on him making out almost aggressively with a PDA...he growled at me’.

Because really? If you spend enough time around the glaringly inhuman, you’ll lose your human aspects too. So Danny’s not exactly surprised when they decide to hit the road with him. They’ll always come back, of course they will, and maybe they’ll find some other towns they love as they go. But at least being able to make portals now will mean they can go as far as they like, without Phantom ever being far away from the town he protects.

[thecorteztwins]

Werewolf Shinobi @esteicy-blog! Also tagging @acaprioglino @shattered-catalyst @sammysdewysensitiveeyes because I think you’ll enjoy it, as it has your chaotic dumbass boy! Shinobi Shaw was not a good werewolf. The first time he transformed, he didn’t rampage, or attack livestock, or eat people. He just had a really hard time adjusting to having four legs and tottered around the house falling all over his own paws, then barked at the mirror for two hours. He then had proceeded to just hide under his blanket with his nose poking out. His next few full moons had not gone any better. And worst of all, got sprayed by a skunk. His human form was just as embarrassing. He got distracted by squirrels mid-flirtation. He was starting to get really into sniffing people at parties. He attempted to run after cars, but still wasn’t in good enough shape for it so he just got worn out and started wheezing and whining and begging anyone he was with to carry him. And while making out with a guy at his apartment, the man’s cat had walked in. Immediately, Shinobi had jumped down to all fours to chase it...only for the cat to beat him up. Needless to say, his pack leaders were not pleased. He was before them now in his wolf form, which looked more like a coyote-sized black fox that anything, slim and silver-ticked with white paws. His tail was tucked, his ears were drooping, and his amber eyes were upturned in supplication towards the trio passing judgement on him from the rocks above that served as their thrones. Emma Frost. Erik Lehnsherr. And Sebastian Shaw, Shinobi’s own father. The representatives of the three most powerful werewolf clans in the territory, and the sternest, hardest-hearted, scariest people that Shinobi had ever met...with his father being the worst in all three categories. It wasn’t just that he was mean, or yelled, or told Shinobi he was a worthless idiot every time he saw him. It was the fact he hit him in human form, and bit him around the neck as a wolf, every time Shinobi disappointed or failed him. Which was often. Shinobi was trying not to cry.

Luckily, it was Emma who spoke, otherwise he might have lost that battle, and no one wanted to see a wolf weep. ”Shinobi Shaw, three times you have been granted the opportunity to prove yourself worthy as a werewolf of the Hell’s Fire Pack. Three times you have failed---and in rather spectacular fashion, I might add.” It had indeed been spectacular. The first time had involved a lake, the second a tanker truck, and the third time....a grand but accidental fireworks display that had frightened off every prey in the area during a hunt. Shinobi still wasn’t sure how any of it happened, but he suspected that the “liquid courage” he had consumed beforehand to “calm his nerves” might have had something to do with it. ”Three chances is traditionally all one gets,” Emma continues, “And it is typically MORE than one ever needs.” His ears drooped lower and he slumped. ”However...” His ears perked up. ”When the three of us assumed leadership of Hell’s Fire, part of the mandate that united us was the belief that some traditions must be torn down or at the very least modified to better suit the modern age and to best serve the pups of this generation. Lone wolves are a risk not only to themselves, but our species as a whole, and we would prefer for such a fate only to be earned by malicious action, not mere incompetence. Thus, for the time being...you are permitted to remain here, though you are still counted not counted as having any rank or truly belonging to the pack. But you are also not counted as a cub either. You are...your own category. Until we figure out what to do next with you.” His own category? He looked up. He was unique! He was special! He was so clever and amazing they had to make a new category just for him! As delusional as that was, it was either that or face the sense of crushing failure that was weighing down on his slim canine shoulders, so he embraced it...and avoided the stony GLARE of his father from on high, silent at Emma’s side, opposite of the other male, Erik. He had a feeling that his father probably had NOT been the one to vote to let him stay. But he would show him! He would show them all! He was just having a rough start, but he would be the best wolf ever! The best wolf the Hell’s Fire pack had ever seen in HISTORY! Bounding off into the woods after his dismissal, ignoring the laughs and taunts of packmates, his slender chest filled with determination, with confidence, with courage! He was going to--- He stopped in his tracks, kicking up quite a few leaves from the forest floor, as he realized, fuck, he didn’t know what to do. How could he prove himself? Let’s see...he had failed three attempts at the Rite of Passage, in which a young werewolf was given a task to prove himself worthy... Aha! That was the problem! The challenges were wrong! He would just have to make his own! And to do that, he needed inspiration! And for inspiration, he needed...BOOZE! So he trotted down to town and went into the nearest bar....and was promptly chased out with a broom by the screaming bartender. Oh, right, he was still in wolf form. He shapeshifted into his human state, and went back in...only to get chased out again, this time because he was naked. Man, some people were so uptight! After procuring some proper attire---meaning he swung by the designer boutique up the street where he had a personal account, rather than just go back to his penthouse to get clothes he already owned---he returned to the bar, told them they had made a huge mistake and he would now take his business elsewhere, and asked if anyone could lend him a $20 for an Uber. No one did. Then he remembered he had a driver he could just call. So he asked if anyone could lend him their cell phone. Wolves really needed to develop pockets in their coats. Eventually, he did manage to get to the upscale club he had in mind, though only by taking public transport like a SAVAGE. But he’d felt unsafe on the subway was a beautiful and affluent-looking human, so he’d shifted back into his wolf form for the trip... Meaning that someone was on a subway car with a wolf that was wearing fabulous sunglasses (at night) and a big fuzzy brilliantly purple haute couture coat. He was probably responsible for a WHOLE lot of people thinking they were either on drugs, or needed to quit them. He shifted back, got into the club, and... That was the last thing he remembered before waking up in the dog pound, in his wolf form again and without his new clothes. Oh, well, no big, this had happened before, he would just--- ”Hello there.” A WOMAN IN A LAB COAT was looking down at him. Something about her reminded him of Emma Frost, and not just because she was an attractive blonde. His tailed wagged and he hoped for pats. ”Don’t play puppy with me, wolf,” she said in a smirking tone, and his eyes went wide. She knew! ”Yes, I know what you are,” she continued, as though she had read his mind, ”Just stay in your current form, and everything will be fine. I’m getting you out of here.” Oh wow, he had found an ally! The pack would be so proud of him! She had on the white coat so she must be a doctor, maybe a vet! That was great! They needed people like her! After she had filled out his adoption paperwork, she walked him back to her car on a leash, something he enjoyed IMMENSELY. Once he was in the passenger seat, he turned into his human state again, to let her see just what a gorgeous specimen she had procured for herself. ”Hey there babe. I’m Shinobi Shaw, and I’m all ready to be your new pet. Or should I say---” ”Oh, shut up,” was the last thing he heard as she sprayed a can of knock out gas at him and he collapsed. When he regained consciousness, he was in a cage once again. A lab this time. Even he could recognize that, with all the beakers and test tubes around with unpleasant looking fluids in them, not to mention the other animals and people---people!---in cages there too. Many of the animals were squeaking or crying in pain, but the people...they didn’t move. And they didn’t look good either. Their naked skin had strange green patches, almost like they were growing algae from their flesh. Skin tags the size of plums drooped at random places. Liver spots were swollen and growing small horns. Teeth were sticking out of places that were NOT there mouths. And some of them were...kinda oozing. It had the antiseptic smell of a hospital...mixed, paradoxically and disturbingly with the smell of rot. Rot, and radiation. What kind of crazy medical kink play had he gotten into?! ”Oh hey babe---or should I say Mistress? Doctor, maybe?” he posed in as sexy a position as he could in the cramped cage as the blonde woman entered the lab. A hush fell over it, the animals too scared to continue their howls and squawks, the people too far gone to speak. As soon as he tells me everything I need to know, I’m wiring his jaws shut and excising his tongue, thought Dr. June Covington. Out of all the supernatural creatures she was studying, she’d expected werewolves to be the most taciturn, thinking they would be more like animals than people....although, in a way, she was right, this guy WAS an animal. And a dumb one at that. “Shut up,” she said simply, just as she had in the car. She unlocked the cage, grabbed him by the neck, and hauled him out. As she expected, he went willingly; it was why she hadn’t used anesthetic on him as she usually did with such creatures. She’d thought that his enthusiasm might wane as the experiments began, and yet, it did not. He clearly enjoyed them, writing around and making kinky innuendo throughout. She finally muzzled him, and he just clearly enjoyed that. She began considering anesthetizing him just so she wouldn’t have to put up with this shit, but she went through a LOT of sedatives, it was unwise to waste it on him if she didn’t have to. She’d hate to find herself facing down a PROPER werewolf without enough sedatives on hand when she needed it. This proved to be a fatal mistake. When she turned him over to insert the thermometer meant to check the temperature changes involved in shapeshifting, that was when things went to hell. Oh, he didn’t resist it, quite the opposite, he was clearly HAPPY about it. Too happy. Though still in human form, his tail sprouted, and he began wagging it. Hard. Very hard. So much so, he knocked over a VERY precious combination of chemicals.... “No!” was all that Dr. June Covington had time to get out before the place EXPLODED. The next thing that Shinobi remembered, he was waking up in one of the caves that the pack used in their meeting place in the wolves, surrounded by the concerned faces of packmates. “He’s coming to!” said one of the healers. “He’s awake!” “He’s going to be alright!”

And then...they started cheering. Shinobi was very confused. More than usual, that is. In a daze, his packmates walked him to the clearing that was overlooked by the rocks on which the leaders perched. He was expecting a scolding, or worse, exile. Instead, what Emma said was, “Shinobi Shaw, you have proven yourself three times over and then some. You discovered, infiltrated, and destroyed one of our deadliest enemies. Dr. June Covington has kidnapped and vivisected thousands of our kind in her foul experiments, but you put an end to it---and for that, you have the gratitude of this pack, and all lycanthropes, all magical creatures, forever.” Shinobi stood there, stunned.

And he realized the best thing about this. It was a good excuse for a PARTY!

[cowtale-utau]

Relationships and Opinons - Chisel

Undertale Sans/Ace – They had kinda a rocky start. Chisel saw Ace as a softer, weaker version of himself. Eventually they got drunk together. Chisel doesn't really remember what all was said, but he knows he came away with a better respect for the weight Ace is carrying. Its a lot of responsibility and he's trying to bear it all alone. Chisel understands and respects that instinct, so while he may not know everything that's going on, he figured he could lighten the load by being less of an ass. They're pretty close now, often talking shop over drinks.

Undertale Papyrus/Lief – He often finds himself somehow roped into building things alongside Lief and Scout. When the pair decide to team up on him, he folds quickly. Chisel has no issue with Lief, but he does bury a sort of wistfulness in regards to him. He feels like Lief is what Spur could have been like if he'd done a better job of protecting him. He wouldn't trade his brother for the world, but seeing first hand the innocence he could have had and lost, stings just a tiny bit.

Underfell Sans/Chisel – Adjusting to this new surface was not exactly easy for Chisel. Sure there's still  struggle and fighting, but compared to the world he came from, its down right peaceful. And that sits oddly. He wants to embrace it. To be softer and kinder himself. But its a struggle, letting go of years of learned behaviors. He combats this by trying to keep his mind busy. He has a knack for mechanical engineering and he enjoys it. This isn't always enough, and if allowed to wallow too much he can fall into bad drinking habits. He flirts to mask his own insecurities, and to keep people at arms length. Genuine affection makes him uncomfortable. He judges himself harshly, and his perceived mistakes weigh heavily on him. He doesn't shy away from violence, but tries not to make killing his first response. He won't hesitate however, if its necessary, and generally isn't too bothered by it.

Underfell Papyrus/Spur – From the outside this might look like a resentful, volatile relationship. This couldn't be farther from the truth. Spur is loud and can come off as demanding. And sometimes he is. But what most people fail to notice is that Spur is full of self doubt. He pushes a front of loud, almost violent confidence, to hide his self-questioning mind. Chisel knows this. He knows his brother. He raised him. In the Underground as Spur got older, Chisel fell into a more subservient role. Not as a true indication of their relationship but as a way to bolster his brothers confidence. And as much as Chisel may hate being told what to do, he hates responsibility even more. Having control is nerve wracking. He can't handle the weight of expectation. Spur knows this. He knows his brother. He was raised by him. So as he got older, he took over. He handled everything he could, so that his big brother could finally rest. He nags at him for being lazy, but it goes unsaid that he knows how tired Chisel is. He's the only one allowed to nag him. Anyone else even thinks of disrupting one of his brothers naps better have a damn good reason, or they'll be facing the wrath of a very angry baby brother. They have a deep fraternal love, built on the ground a struggling to survive in a world that didn't really want them to. Now that they're here, where its relatively peaceful, they can really let go and grow into better versions of themselves. They try very hard to help each other do so.

Underswap Sans/Scout – These two get along quite well. Scout pushes Chisel's buttons in a way that rather than irritating, motivates. Scout, much like Lief, enjoys puzzles, and Chisel has plenty of mechanical knowledge. They often have friendly arguments over whether or not something can work, leading to Chisel feeling challenged, and so finding a way to make it work. People are often surprised to find Scout tossing back off-color and lewd jokes right back at Chisel. They share a rather dirty sense of humor and enjoy catching other people off guard with it.

Underswap Papyrus/Piper – The last third of the “talk shop and drink” trio. Also part of the “stress smokers” club. Chisel initially didn't think he was gonna like Piper much. But he found Piper had a sharper tongue a lot more spine than he expected. The whole being completely unable to successfully lie thing was annoying at first, but came in handy often enough he got over it. For coming from one of the “softer” worlds Piper was surprisingly jaded, and very slow to trust. Once Chisel got over the sting of some very harsh truths Piper hit him with, he found a pretty solid friendship. Chisel doesn't often have the energy himself to get up to much mischief, but is more than happy to pass his ideas on for Piper and the other “shit disturbers” to execute.

Swapfell(Red) Sans/Whip – Despite how easily he bends to the word of his brother, Chisel hates being told what to do. Whip is bossy and demanding. Its not an especially good mix. Early on this made for some very loud altercations in camp, usually at the most irritating possible moment. Nowadays they just avoid each other a much as possible. One can only take so much of Lief's disappointed face.

Swapfell(Red) Papyrus/Coyote – These two would probably get along pretty well, were it not for Chisel and Whips mutual dislike. They can enjoy a nice quiet smoke together, but most of their interactions have an underlying tension, as Coy doesn't take kindly to any even minor perceived threats to his brother. Chisel finds their dynamic a bit off putting, and tends to keep his distance. It’s easier to just avoid the issue altogether.

Horrortale Sans/Tender – He's really uncomfortable with what Tender did, but also respects him for doing whatever it took to keep his brother alive. Its an odd mix to grapple with. There's not bad blood between them, but they generally don't interact much. Not a whole lot of common ground beyond “would do literally anything for his brother”.

Horrortale Papyrus/Cook – Its really hard not to like Cook. He's got a no-nonsense attitude and isn't afraid to call anyone on their behavior. If Leif is the “'disappointed mom”, then Cook is the “you're full of shit mom”. He's blunt and to the point, but manages to not be harsh. Its a tough balance and one Chisel respects. Cook is good for emotional insights, and very good at keeping others business to himself. Much like his younger counterpart, he just wants to help. His life experience has led him to a very different but equally effective ways of doing so.

Swapfell(Purple) Sans/Doc – Chisel didn't think he would like Doc, but found himself pretty ambivalent. He finds Doc to be a bit to high strung, but appreciates that he handles all the day to day running. One less responsibility for him to dodge. Doc is a control freak, but tends to err more on the side of controlling the environment, so Chisel isn’t especially opposed.

Swapfell(Purple) Papyrus/Flint – Flint is a self professed shit disturber, and the title it well deserved. Chisel rarely has the energy or care to get involved but certainly enjoys watching the disaster unfold. He doesn’t volunteer for anything, but is usually amenable if Flint has work that Chisel is especially suited too, particularly repairs, one of the only kinds of work he actually enjoys.

Fellswap Gold Sans/Haze – Chisel has a lot of issues with Haze. While he respects the work he does for the gang, he has more complaints than compliments. He'll concede that it takes a skill set he just doesn't have to put up with the kinds of people Haze deals with. But he finds Haze duplicitous and cagey. He doesn't trust him at all. And it drives Chisel insane the way Haze enables Cirrus to be dependent.

Fellswap Gold Papyrus/Cirrus – These two interact very little, and with good reason. While Chisel likely couldn’t explain it, there is something about Cirrus that tends to grate on him. He claims Cir is “too soft” or “too fragile” and that he finds it irritating, but given that these traits in others tend not to bother him at all, the argument falls short. Ultimately, what Chis selectively chooses to ignore is that he’s more upset that a Fell version of his brother could come out so gentle while his own brother was forced to lose much of that softness. It’s a constant subconscious reminded of his own perceived failures, which makes him generally disgruntled. 

Underlust Sans/Shine – Chisel leaves all interactions with Shine flustered. He tries to keep up with the flirting, and does alright for awhile, but there comes a point where its only stubbornness keeping him present. They have fun though and are occasional drinking buddies. Shine is also the best at keeping Chisel out of trouble when he loses himself and goes on a bender. Chisel appreciates that he doesn't lecture him or push for an explanation.

Underlust Papyrus/Calico – At first Calico weirded him out. He differed too much from what he was used to. None of the roughness of the Fell-types, none of the boisterous attitude from the Vanilla-verses. Calico was something entirely his own. He comes off as dreamier, a soft maturity. Tempered. The more he gets to know Calico the more he recognizes some similarities, but he's still a little put off. Calico is more similar to Cook than any of the other “energetic-types”, which would almost imply a trauma or event leading to this personality shift. Its also apparent that the Lust brother know more than they let on. Whatever it is they aren't saying, Chisel isn't sure he wants to know.

[lady-olive-oil]

BSB: Chapter 7

[THANK HANUMAN IT’S WORKING. The struggle I went through to get this out. Make sure you share it: like and critique is already appreciated. THANK YOU GUYS!] 

Warnings for the sexual encounter, will be in bold black letters leading up to the event itself. 

Warnings: sexual themes [wrap it before you tap it] & language

WC: 3.9K [I SNAPPED]

It seemed as though everything around them, seized to stop. The only noise that could be heard, was the sound of their heartbeats and gentle moans. A few soft caresses and effortless tugs on one another, neither of them wanted this moment to stop.

“It’s too quiet in there. They’re either; about to get it on or actually there isn’t anything else they could be doing.” T’Challa always knew when to stop while he was a ahead and most of the time his words come out confusing is stressful times. But then time however, the group agreed with him.

“Finally. The girls on the dance team owe me $20 each for this.” Nattie smirked gently and back away from the door.

Nakia has a mischievous look in her eyes, upon glancing at Erik.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking, my love?” Arching her brow, she earned a smirk from him.

“If you’re thinking about going after Sean, then great minds think alike.” Erik pulled her close and kissed her nose.

“Exactly what I was thinking. You guys wanna roll?” Nakia asked and rallied up the troops.

“Hell yeah. We’ll catch em tomorrow.” Nattie grabbed T’Challa’s hand and headed down the hall.

Back in the room, Nefe couldn’t help but love the feeling of M’Baku touching her, admiring the way his tall stature had engulfed hers. Without a shadow of a doubt, she didn’t want to leave. He lifted her off the floor, to hoist her legs around his waist.

“M’Baku!” The squeal that left her lips, was a genuine one. His soft laugh echoed after her, keeping her back angled on the wall, continuing his tender pecks along her neck.

“Yes my love?” He let all his emotion take over and wasn’t ashamed to do so.

His lips trailed kisses up and down her heated neck, receiving compassionate praises from his love. He never thought they’d get to this point. Yet here they were; locked in a tight embrace, bodies shaking in desire and want. Never wanting to let go.

“W-we should stop…” Nefe’s voice betrayed her yearning to be closer to him as much as she wanted. As quick as road runner running away from Wil E. Coyote, M’Baku had pinned his lady against the deep red duvet on her bed.

M’Baku froze in place, glancing into her eyes as they conveyed mixed emotions. He nuzzled his hair against hers, gaining a giggle.

“Are we going too fast? I don’t want to do anything you weren’t comfortable with-”

“M’Baku, shhh. We can still do this, trust me I’ve been dreaming of it.” She pecks his full wanting lips gently, holding his face to convey her emotions to him.

“As have I, malkia wangu. (My love)” he whispered back before sitting up with her in his lap, holding on tight. After years of just being friends a true and honest kiss happened. One that was better than before.

“I still want you. I will always want you, yet I want to do this the right way. How about a date?” She suggested, tracing his strong jawline with her fingernails.

“A date? I have an even better idea. How about a weekend in New Orleans, just the two of us?” The tone he had whilst suggesting this spontaneous trip, made Nefe purr like a kitten in heat. She never thought she would ever get this point in time with someone she only considered her best friend. This time around she went with her heart.

“Hmm. A mini trip to Nola huh? Sounds wonderful to me, I’d love to go on a trip with you M’Baku.”

“Wait really? Truthfully?” He couldn’t believe his ears or his eyes. He had a goddess among men in his hands and just enjoyed the moment for as long as he could.

“Why would I lie? I may hide a few things but I’d never lie. This has been a long time coming M’Baku, and I’m going in with my heart. We’d have to take it slow.” Nuzzling into his neck with pleasant gesture, she meant every word.

“Then it’s settled. This weekend, you and me, are going to New Orleans for much...needed...getaway.” Emphasizing each word with a gentle kiss along neck, she erupted in a fit of giggles again.

“Baku! Stop it, that tickles.”

“I could listen to you laugh all day. But we must get back to our friends.”

With a delicate sigh, she nodded and shimmied off his lap, holding out her hand for him to take.

“Come on, great gorilla.”

“Coming, my Queen.”

This man did so much for her and vice versa, that she finally could see her true feelings shining through. Walking out of her room hand in hand, down towards the main foyer of the DST house, their fingers were locked in a sweet embrace. It just felt right for them

It seemed as though the party had died down, and everyone went home. Meeting up with the others at the house pool was convenient. Once everyone met up, the two were met by their group of friends, who all but seemed surprised by the two.

“Oh well lookie lookie.” Nattie grinned at them, while dusting off her silk red pj pants.

“Uh yeah. I’ll explain later, what happened to y’all?” Nefe asked with a quizzical look on her face.

Their friends had dirt patches on them in various places; a few hairs out of place, looking just rough.

“Alright I must ask this, who won?” M’Baku broke the silence and saw two hands raise up. Who did the hands belong to? None other than Erik and Nakia.

“Who was the fight with anyway?” Asked a perplexed Nefe, who rested her head on M’Baku’s shoulder.

“I’ll give you a guess..” Nattie mumbled and crossed her arms over her chest. Dragging the girls to the edge of the pool to just let their feet dangle in the water.

“You didn’t.”

“Oh but they did. They wiped the floor with his scrawny ass.” Nattie nodded in encouragement.

“He got knocked the fuck out!” Erik exclaimed in hysterics, still high from his recent escapades.

“Y’all are something else. Let’s just hope he won’t press charges.” Nefe pointed out as she felt a sudden change in heat by her right side.

“Y’all look cozy after all.” Okoye smiled happily.

“Mhm, too cozy. Spill it!” Nakia nugged Nefe and caused the group to erupt in laughter.

“Well we came to an agreement, a very hot agreement.” Nefe rolled her eyes and playfully hit M’Baku on his knee.

“It got quiet in there and we were worried-” T’Challa was cut off by Nattie hitting his arm.

“Y’all were by the door?! I can not believe y’all.” Nefe couldn’t help but picture her friends on the other side of the door, while softly laughing.

“But y’all did make up though right? You’re welcome.” Erik winked at Nefe and gained an eye roll, before M’Baku kissed her gently in front of them.

The whole group broke out in cheers and applause, causing the new couple to feel the heat rush to their faces.

“It may take some time to say it, but I know I feel it.” M’Baku admitted to Nefe, prompting her to hide her face in his neck.

“I know. I feel it too, don’t worry.”

“Now that’s that’s settled, what are everyone’s plans for this weekend?” T’Challa questioned as Nattie hands him another beer.

“Well, Nefe an di are going to New Orleans for the weekend. To you know, get to know each other more.” The cunning smirk that was etched M’Baku’s face was full of triumph and accomplishment.

“You don’t say? Well g’head playa.” Erik gave M’Baku a fist bump and T’Challa gave him a high five.

The girls giggled at Nefe and caused her to do the same.

He had earned his alone time with Nefe more than ever. It had been years leading up to this important weekend. From Friday to Monday, they’d be alone. In another city; in a hotel, surrounded and emerged in the love that is New Orleans. Nothing is going to ruin this trip.

“Little vacation ain’t hurt nobody. We’ll be back Monday night, right?” Nefe looked at M’Baku for confirmation.

Nodding at her with sincerity, he couldn’t get enough of how elegant she looked at this very moment. He was truly in love with how this gorgeous woman, had escaped her binds and fell into his arms. He thought he was in a deep slumber, but it was all reality.

“Make sure to take lots of pictures too.” Nattie reminded her.

“Can’t say you’ve been somewhere if you don’t take pictures.” Okoye pointed out as well.

As the height died down, the story of how Erik and Nakia got their hands on Sean was the biggest highlight of the night.

“So we just found him with Melanie, near the hookah machine right? Erik grabbed him and was like, ‘listen man. I don’t like how you’ve been treating my sister like you have.’ He was just going in.” Nattie explained

“And wasn’t having Erik be all in his face and shit either. So Sean was like ‘I don’t give a fuck. She’s my girl anyway. She’ll do as I tell her to. When you see her, tell her that a real man is looking for her’ and Erik just pushed him. Rammed him into the nearest tree and wailed on him.”  Nakia exclaimed, the group chuckled at her impression of Sean.

“Next thing we know, he was fighting him near the fountain. Driving punches to his face left and right, like Adonis Creed. Sean tried to choke him out, but with the strength of the Black Panther-” T’Challa couldn’t help but laugh too hard, while explaining his part, that it caused him to start snorting.

“He winded up holding him underwater for a few seconds, before campus security came to tear them apart. That’s how we all ended up back here, along with a warning.” Okoye finished it off with grace.

“Y’all are wild. I can’t have a moment without y’all getting into something.”

“You have M’Baku to keep you happy now hun. We can handle ourselves.”

Nattie did have a point, even when Nefe didn’t want to admit it.

“I guess you’re right. Well, we all have to get up in the morning. Gotta leave early to head to Nola, y’all have volunteer hours. Tell professor Cunningham I’ll be gone and email me the assignments. My other professors know I’ll be gone.” Nefe dusted her shorts off, before kissing M’Baku’s head.

“We’ll keep y’all posted soon enough. If Erik goes to jail, we’ll bail him out.” Nakia made a promise and Erik scoffed, laying his arm around her neck.

“Good.”

The next few hours were restless for Nefe. She could hardly sleep and it was driving her mad. After a midnight snack, double stuffed Oreos and milk, she finally drifted off into a deep slumber.

-Next Morning-

“Ok. So I got at least four outfits just in case I decide to switch it up. Along with 3 pairs of shoes, one pair of heels that go with everything. Body stuff and I’m good.” Nefe was going through her weekend bag and noted everything she had and needed.

“Come on Nefe. We gotta go! Slow as shit.” M’Baku called up from the car, which was a black Tahoe.

“Boy if you don’t quit rushing me! I’m coming damnit!”

That’s how it went on for the next hour or so on the way up. Nefe was sound asleep in the passenger, the motion of the car lulled her to sleep. With a gentle smile, M’Baku moved a braid away from her face. Admiring her facial structure and how lucky he is to have her. After calling they’re friends to let them know that they’d made it safe to their hotel, M’Baku tucked Nefe into bed.

(Warning #1: Dirty part coming up soon)

The next few days were pure joy. From going down to the French Quarter; eating jambalaya, taking in a few live jazz shows, touring the bayou and enjoy all that New Orleans had to offer.

On their last night, they decided to have a romantic dinner. Brennan’s was recommended by Nefe’s parents highly. It had an amazing view of the street with all lights glistening in the southern sunset.

The dress Nefe wore, was a sleek golden yellow bodycon dress that left nothing to imagination. The sleeves accentuated her elongated arms; the bodice stuck to her curves in all the right places and angles. Making it appear to be painted on, the ruffles made her god given assets look glorious. Her shoes, were to die for. The black heels and gold accents made her look taller than before. M’Baku wore a matching golden yellow long sleeve shirt and a pair of black slacks, with a slick pair of yellow Stacy Adams to match.

“Damn we look good, but you my love are breathtaking.” He whispered gently in her ear, as they both took a picture together in the floor to ceiling mirror. The soft gesture caused the nubian goddess to chuckle elegantly. He half of the silver gorilla necklace was tucked into his shirt, so it wouldn’t make much noise.

“M’Baku my love, this is only the beginning of what is to come if you play your cards right.” Placing a delightful kiss upon his cheek, she dusted off his shoulders from any possible lint that was caught on his shoulders.

“Oh? You see more for us from here?” He watched her drift away from, bending over to grab her clutch. Great Hanuman, he thought to himself watching her more with grace and elegance.

“Why of course I do. Why wouldn’t I?” Adjusting her half of the silver gorilla necklace, that was gracefully placed upon her bosom, Nefe smiled at her dear friend.

“Well, you know my secret and why I am here. You don’t want me for my titles; my notoriety, the money. What do you desire from me?” The question hung in the air as gentle as a feather drifting in the breeze. The look on her face was unreadable, then shifted to a soft one.

Caressing his cheeks with her thumbs, she looked into his eyes with sincerity. Feeling the pain of his past wash over his face. Nefe could tell that M’Baku had been severely hurt by the women he’s dated in the past. Especially Melanie, which she depicted herself that she didn’t know he was a prince. That was just the icing on the cake.

“M’Baku, my forever love, we’ve known each other for years. My views on you haven’t changed then, and they won’t now. Just because you’re a prince doesn’t mean I expect anything less of you. You’ll always be my best friend no matter what, and if the timing is right maybe even your girlfriend. So on and so forth.” The way she explained made his heart flutter against his chest as he held her close.

“That makes me happy to hear you say that. Truthfully, and I couldn’t have asked for a better friend. Now how should I ask you to be mine?” taking her hands in his, he led her out of their hotel room, towards their car waiting for them to take them to Brennan’s.

“Depends on how you do after dinner.” with a sly smirk in his direction, M’baku was up for the challenge.

(Warning #2: Dirty part coming)

Dinner was absolutely amazing. The atmosphere; the company, the food was to die for. The icing on the cake was the dessert. M’Baku couldn’t wait to have Nefe all to himself on their king sized bed, back at the hotel.

He picked her up with ease, before getting into the elevator. Their hands were clawing at each other, for release. He hiked up her right leg around his waist and rolled his hips into hers, trailing his full thick lips against her heated neck.

“M’Baku…” Nefe groaned in a hushed tone, feeling her skin overheat in desire. Hearing the elevator ding, the two pulled apart and ran towards their room to continue their rendezvous.

Locking the door behind him M’Baku had sauntered over towards Nefe; unzipping her dress from the back. The fabric fell down her shoulders and pooled around her dainty feet. Leaving her in an all black silk and lace lingerie, that highlighted her curvaceous figure. Her skin illuminated in the moonlight of the French doors.

Facing him, she unbuttoned his yellow shirt and let it fall to the ground as well. Discarding the rest of their clothes, she pulled him closer to her body.

(Warning #3: Dirty part!!! Count to 60 or skip)

“My my. Aren’t you a sight behold. Glory to Hanuman..” M’Baku picked her up once more, pulling her into a lustful kiss that was knee buckling. Her moans were music to his ears, and he wanted to hear a symphony. Their actions were breathtaking even, and they didn’t come up but a few second before going back at it.

With the help of his phone, the soft melody of Floetry, Say Yes, played through the room as a soundtrack to the perfect night. Amongst other 90’s R&B jams to help set the mood.

Grinding her hips against him, he moaned against her lips, falling back on the bed between her delectable thighs. She looked down at him with a mischievous smile  but it soon shifted when he flipped them over, having him on top.

As the kissing commenced, his lips traveled down her body. Making sure no skin was unkissed or groped.

“M’Baku you tease…ohh” her breathing was heavy and wanting, it hitched when she felt his tongue upon her bundle of nerve. Tugging and sucking relentlessly, as her nimble fingers gripped the back of his neck.

Her back arched like a bow, waiting to release its arrow, just as his tongue flickered with a swiftness and dipped in her heated treasure. Making her yelp in ecstasy, his digits moved faster and faster, her hips rotated against his skillful mouth. Changing her orgasm she finally calmed down, catching her breath.

“You-you’re too good at that.”

“I’m better at other’s things as well, my queen.” Licking his fingers clean of her essence, they eyed each other like lions in heat.

She beckoned him to come closer with her hooked index finger, and he obliged.

“Are you ready, my love?” He asked once more to make sure he didn't overstep her boundaries. Her consent was important to him above of all, next to pleasing her. She nodded her head gently.

“Yes my love. I need you.” Her body shook with desire and he was going to give it to her.

He made sure that the condom was on at least 3-4 times, you can never be too careful. He positioned himself at her heated entrance, holding her hips to glide in slowly to get her to adjust. It wa obvious that she hadn’t had a man the size of M’Baku before, it showed on her heated face as her eyes closed tight.

“Look at me, I need to see the elegant faces you make when you scream out into the heavens.” his lips ghosted against hers, her muscles adjusted to his size as she pulled him down to a hot searing kiss. He was sheathed fully inside of her, taking in the warmth of her body as they rocked back and forth under the royal purple silk sheets.  

“Glory to Hanuman, you are tight.” Lacing their fingers together, placing her hands above her head, his speed increased.

The faces she made were indescribable. She kept her eyes on his like a pro, moving her hips with his in tandem. Once he let her hands go, they found purchase on his ebony skin and her nails clawed down his back. It motivated him to go harder and faster. They both earned this moment more than ever.

“Nefertiti…” He groaned out this time, and it stirred something deep within her that caused a rift. Her muscles contracted around him again, milking him for everything had.

There was a sudden empty feeling and it caused her pout. She was dripping literal honey and the scene before him caused M’Baku to grow harder. Flipping her over, her ass in the air and her face in the pillows, her expression changed quick. He slid into her again in this new position and went harder.

The noises that left her swollen lips, filled the room. Sure enough to alert their neighbors, but they didn’t care. Pushing her hips back on him, twerking a bit earned her a smack on her rounded ass.

“Shit!” She squealed and moaned again, leaning her head back. Letting her braids dance along her back, she glanced back at M’Baku like a cheetah on the hunt.

“You like that?” He whispered hotly in her ear, as he went faster. The movement she made, made him moan this time. Pure music to her ears, holding the back of his head close to her neck. They seemed to move closer by the second.

His chest was to her back, the both sat up and faced the mirror so strategically placed by the bathroom.

“If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be squeezing you like a python right now, now would I?” Her voice was strained as her head was on his shoulder, his lips were on her neck. Their bodies moved in sync, as both their highs approached. Watching him move in and out of her, covered in her essence, made her body grow hotter.

“A python has nothing on you, cause dear god woman you are exquisite.” His rough hands squeezed her heaving breasts, pinching her nipples to get her over faster. Reaching behind her, she grabbed a handful of his ass, clutching on to him for dear life. Sweat glistening their bodies as the euphoric ambiance took over them.

His rhythm was like poetry. Drawing her in like a Shakespearean sonnet on a hot summer day. His body fit against hers like a glove, snug and secure. Wrapping his arms around her fully, turning her head to kiss her with such force and heated tension. It was now his job to be her protector, and he was willing to take on the job.

He felt her body shake, a clear sign that she was close to her release.

“M’Baku, I can't hold it anymore.” She whined, her voice strained against his lips once more.

“Let go. I’m right behind you.” He gave her the clear to let go and once she did, he followed suit. Filling up the condom as much as he could. He slid out gently, tying the condom and tossing it away.

(You can come back now!!!)

Nefe laid there in pure bliss, and closed her eyes to feel her body tingling. She was still burning and the cool sheets made it better. She snuggled up against M’Baku, once he came back from the bathroom. The sheet stayed at their waists, as the sounds of soothing R&B careered the perfect atmosphere. She traced shapes on his chest, heading his heartbeat.

“That was better than I expected.” He finally spoke.

“Better than your expectations?” The gleaming look in her eye, was a pleasant one. Kissing her head, she felt prideful and full of love. Finally, she felt as though she was a woman.

“Way better. You, my queen, exceeded them. In fact, how about a second round?” Kissing her softly, she draped her leg around his waist and straddle him.

“This time, I lead~” Kissing him back with so much love and adoration, she trailed kisses down his body in return.

“Dear Hanuman…” He groaned, and kept his eyes on her the whole time.This was going to be a long hot night.

[coyoteeugly]

what'd you recoomend if your trying to write a self insert character?

Lemme put this under a read more bc this got long! This will just be what I would recommend from my own experience!

STIGMA

Personally I think the most important thing to remember when it comes to self-inserts is that not everyone is gonna be jazzed about role playing with you, even if you are well put together as a muse. So don’t put too much weight on people if they don’t want to ship, or roleplay or anything. It can be a bit of a stigma in some situations.

BE REALISTIC

Another thing to remember is to really examine the world that you’re building this self insert for, and examine yourself as a person. Realistically where would you fall in that universe? As a normal citizen? If your line of work is something like say some sort of repairman, then find some way that you realistically could get into a situation where you can interact with those in the series. For example, I cleaned houses while I was making Coyote, but I pushed it a bit and tried to really think about how someone like me could end up in a situation where he could interact with different people in the Star Fox series. He took a job as a janitor because he got kicked out by his mother, another event that happened to me. Incorporate your experiences, memories both good and bad, into the character / portrayal.

MAKE SURE IT MAKES SENSE / DEVELOPMENT

A lot of people make the mistake of trying to push their self insert to be something more dangerous and far from who the person is like in real life. And there’s nothing inherently wrong with that, but it has to be done in a way that makes sense in terms of a story. Ask yourself what you’d have to go through in order to become someone vastly different than who you are now. Realistically assess danger when in character, don’t pull the whole “I’m not scared of you” bullshit unless it is very much realistic for you to do the same in reality. An example of this is how in reality I really love Wolf and Andross, specifically @icantlose​ and @lylat-ruler​. However, if I were to meet a dangerous mercenary and a tyranical ruler in reality I would NOT be trying to joke around and make fun of them. Realistically think about how you would act in the situations you put your characters in.

INTERACTING WITH OTHER MUSES

You have to be fine with characters insulting, attacking and killing your muse / self-insert. If you take everything personally and make a big fuss about it that’s a no no, no one likes someone who throws a fit over something a fictional character said. It’s really Not That Deep and not worth the energy.

SHIPPING

Same rules apply with ships as it does with non-self-insert. Don’t force ships on people, stay realistic in your interactions. Ask yourself: if someone treated me like this / acted like this in real life how would I react? Of course it’s expected that sometimes muses have crushes but as long as you’re not force ships on anyone I don’t see any harm in it personally. Just don’t try and use that as a way of guilting people into shipping. Be upfront if you feel the chemistry and it’s realistic, or if you’d like to see it shipped. Ask them, be polite, if they say no they don’t try and act all wounded and butthurt. Say you understand and would still like to roleplay even without the ship, and move on. Maybe if you feel like having that angst you could always ask if they’d be comfortable with an unrequited love situation. But if they say no then drop it and move on.

THE GOOD, THE BAD, AND THE PERSONALITY

Don’t be afraid to examine your flaws and strengths when building the self-insert. What are some good habits / things you’re good at? What are some bad habits / things you’re bad at? Include them all! A self-insert is you after all, if you make them too perfect or too imperfect then they don’t really seem like a person but rather a visual representation of how you see yourself and that doesn’t always work out because they may be one-dimensional in terms of personality.

SOCIAL POSITIONING AND WORLD-BUILDING

Look at where you fit in your world. What’s your gender, race, class, education, etc? Ask yourself how you feel about it, is it something you have to hide? Why? Examining your relationship when it comes to society is crucial, it helps to world build and flesh out the character more and it helps you think about how you can translate that over to the fictional universe.

MAKE PEOPLE CARE

Just like you have to do in regular stories, you have to give the reader / audience a reason to care about your muse! Why should they care if something happens to them? Are they in some position of power? Are they kind? Are they mysterious and drawing the audience to want to find out more before they die? Give your followers a reason to give a shit about the character, just as you would any other character. Without a reason to care there’s nothing really keeping people there, and this doesn’t mean you have to make the character related to some main character because being related to someone important isn’t a personality. Perhaps it could be something they use to defend themselves but there has to be more there, if there’s no intricacies or layers to your character then they’re not going to keep the reader’s attention. Build a character in a way that draws people to them, give them flaws and strengths and blind spots, let them have misplaced anger or toxic traits. When you do that you humanize them and thereby make the audience care about what happens to them. You make them relateable and lovable. Give good character bad traits and bad character good traits. Life isn’t black and white and your self-insert shouldn’t be either!

FEEDBACK

Don’t be afraid to get feedback even if it is negative or not what you want to hear, it can help you grow.

I think that’s all I can think of, but if you have any more specific questions about this subject feel free to ask!

[ssnakey-b]

Cowboy Bebop Retrospective: Asteroid Blues

WARNING! SPOILERS AHEAD!

Hello, everybody! Welcome to the first post of the Cowboy Bebop retrospective! And since I am doing this in chronological order, let’s start with the very first episode: Asteroid Blues.

Synopsis:

The episode, and thus the entire show, opens with a black-and-white flashback sequence. Aside from the distant ringing of bells and the minimalistic tune of a music box, it is silent.

During a cold open (the only one in the series, if memory serves, and if it’s not, it certainly is a rarity), we see the main character walk solemnly in a surprisingly old-looking district considering the show is set in future space colonies, followed by footage of him involved in a massive firefight, during which he is apparently injured as blood can been flowing on his face, the scene being intercut with footage of a rose in a rain puddle, the very same one that can be seen in the header, said image slowly gaining colours. Once the scene ends, we suddenly cut to this:

With the intro over and done with, we then turn to the Bebop itself and are properly introduced to the first two of our main characters: Spike Spiegel and Jet Black, the man with the most on-the-nose name in the universe. Spike is training his sweet martial arts moves, and stops when Jet calls him for either lunch or dinner (it’s hard to tell when they’re in space).

Jet briefs Spike on an interesting bounty , El Mariachi from Despera- I mean Asimov Solensan, a drug pusher, bank robber, murderer and all-around stand-up citizen hiding out in Tijuana, on the run from both the police and the mob. Which is the name of an asteroid, not the Mexican city. Get it, though? Asimov? Because this is a sci-fi show?

Meanwhile, Spike complains that his chinjao rosu has no meat in it. He starts listening again after Jet reminds him that the impressive list of bills they have as a result of Spike’s impulsiveness is the very reason they can’t afford meat in the first place.

However, even after that, Spike isn’t interested in going after Solensan, arguing that TIjuana sucks. But once Jet brings up that you can find some of the best meat around, Spike is suddenly down with his plan.

And so they’re off to Tijuana, where we are introduced to another vital staple of the show:

Yay, it’s the three old men! The guys who always seem to cross the Bebop crew somehow yet never actually have anything to do with the plot! Also, to this day, I still have it in my headcanon that the one in the baseball cap is an elderly Ash Ketchum, and nobody can convince me otherwise.

They do what they do best, which is argue, until Asimov walks in, accompanied by his lovely and pregnant wife, Katerina.

They order drinks, but it quickly becomes obvious that it’s not what they’re actually there for and before long, Asimov discreetly draws a vial of some strange purple liquid with a thin red strip inside it from under his coat and shows it to the bartender. By the way, I love how it shines despite the fact that it makes no sense considering the way the scene is lit. Let’s not forget, this may be one of the more realistic examples of the medium, but Cowboy Bebop very much still is an anime.

The two of them go to the back, where it is revealed that the drug is called Bloody Eye and is apparently very sought after and very expensive (at least “real” Bloody Eye, implying that there are cheaper fake alternatives). Meanwhile, gangsters pull over and get ready to attack. Meanwhile, the bartender insists that Asimov demonstrate use the Bloody Eye on himself to prove it’s the real deal. Through a POV shot, we are shown that the drug heightens reflexes while making it feel like time is slowing down and also giving your sight a dramatic red tint.

The gangsters attack, shooting the place up and murdering an innocent pinball machine (RIP). Asimov and Katerina, however, easily manage to fight them off, the Bloody Eye even allowing Asimov to literally dodge bullets.

And providing us with beautiful visuals.

While this is going on, Spike is consulting an old Native American shaman sitting by a bunch of discarded electronics, as you do, who tells him where to find “the red-eyed coyote” and tells Spike that he will meet a woman who will try to kill him. He also sees death after that, with Spike dropping hints about his own backstory when he says he already died once, and it already was because of a woman.

This guy is called Laughing Bull, by the way. Evidently because of his jovial disposition.

Jet finds the bar, or rather what’s left it after the shoot-out. Two more gangsters arrive, giving him the opportunity to knock one out and get the other to tell him what he knows about Asimov.

While stopping to refuel his fish, the Swordfish, Spike unknowingly meets Asimov in a dingy bathroom, then Katerina outside. She’s carrying a big bag of groceries and Spike pulls the old “bump into them to steal their shit” trick, grabbing some of her food while pretending to help her pick it up, establishing that Spike has pickpocketing skills.

When she figures it out, Katerina isn’t amused at first but actually ends up being a bit impressed once he reveals just how much stuff he managed to steal without her noticing.

You know it’s a well written show when it can honestly make stealing food from a pregnant woman look whimsical.

He gives it back and apologizes, explaining he was starving. They start having a nice chat, where we get more character development. Spike explains he’s been flying the Swordfish around for 10 years and hails from Mars. Katerina seems to have a very idealized of that planet. She dreams of leaving Tijuana to move there, as she believes that living there is a guarantee for an idyllic life. Spike replies that it’s true... if you’ve got money.

Katerina says she and her husband should be able to live there happily, then. One of those silences that speaks louder than words settles, as Spike figures it out (assuming he wasn’t just putting on a show up until now) and asks her if she and Asimov truly intend to move there and spend their life on the run.

Asimov catches him off-guard and starts choking him. He probably would have killed Spike too if it weren’t for Katerina telling him to stop.

Jet finds Spike and tells him he’s giving up. It’s too hot, everyone who goes after Asimov ends up dead. Spike, however, shows that he managed to snatch one of their Bloody Eye vials and fully intends to keep going after them.

And he does! Finding them in a restaurant, he confronts Asimov. An amazingly directed and animated fight scene ensues.

It is broken up when more mobsters show up, both in the air with aircrafts and on the ground with cars. Katerina and Asimov make their escape, but in the middle of all the excitement, a stray bullet grazes Katerina’s belly, which doubtless sends the audience in a cold sweat... until Bloody Eye starts spilling out, revealing she wasn’t pregnant at all and her fake stomach was actually a cache (points for cleverness, wonder if any drug pusher tried that in real life).

Asimov yells at her, screaming that they’re done for if they lose the drugs. At that moment, Katerina seems to come to a horrific realization.

The mobsters don’t stop coming, but Jet saves the day, ramming their cars with his craft, the Hammerhead, whose tip looks like it belongs more on an excavator than on a spacecraft.

Asimov and Katerina escape and Spike is hot on their tail, taking out several mob ships in the process. Spike is getting ever closer to them as they desperately try to run away. They all escape the city and reach space, only for them to be face by a police barrage, literally hundreds of ship ready for them. Stuck between the cops, bounty hunters and the mob and with her husband’ mind and body being swallowed up by dope, Katerina no longer has it in her to keep fighting.

“There will be no honeymoon on Mars. This is the end of the road” she says. Giving her man the mercy of a quick death, she looks a shocked Spike straight in the eyes as she awaits the hail of bullets from the cops.

We cut back to the Bebop. Bookending the episode is Jet cooking. He can’t find Spike in his usual spot though. He finds him in a windowed room, staring longingly into the eternity of space after he finishes training. Spike asks what’s for dinner, and Jet replies “a special chinjao rosu”.

Thoughts:

Ho boy, what a way to start the show. Now, if I’m being honest, this is a fairly run-of-the-mill episode for Cowboy Bebop, but that says more about the quality of the show than it does about that of the episode, because it was great. And while it’s in my opinion not among the best the show has given us, I think it was an excellent first episode.

It represents the show perfectly, everything you need to know about it in terms of tone, style, aesthetics, characters and storytelling is here, which is no doubt why it did such a great job of capturing people’s attention. After you’re done seeing the episode, you know this isn’t your average anime. And indeed, I heard the message loud and clear, especially since my idea of anime at the time, and really TV in general, was stuff like Pokémon and Card Captor Sakura, so needless to say, this blew my mind, especially considering I only check it out to see what this show that took The Simpsons’ slot on the channel was. My 11-year-self* was like “are you even allowed to make stuff this good on TV? Let alone in cartoons?”.

And yeah, I think this is the show that really made me realize that cartoons could be made for an adult audience (as well as 11-year-olds with a taste for things not for his age) and be mature, thought-provoking and immensely emotional. I’m really not sure the show would have been so successful if it didn’t make this good of a first impression.

And make no mistake, it being an “average” episode by Cowboy Bebop’s standards doesn’t mean it doesn’t have its memorable moments, as the image of Katerina floating into space while drugs spill out of her has been stuck in my mind from the very first time I saw it, and it’s still one of the things my mind goes straight to whenever I think of the show.

So yeah, it establishes the first two of the main characters, and while this is by now means the only, let alone the first show to gather its cast over time, I think this is especially nicely done here as the fact that there’s only two of them so far really gives time to develop them well in spite of the episode only lasting about 20 minutes (not counting the ending credit and teaser for the next episode).

Jet being introduced by cooking immediately speaks volume about him, showing that in spite of his massive size and fairly scary appearance, he’s by far the nicest and most restrained one of the group, preferring to stay behind and supervise everything, and enjoying quiet activities, but it also shows he can occasionally be the muscle of the group as well in the couple action scenes he gets.

I’ve seen him described as “fatherly”, and I think that fits him well. An older, stern, physically imposing yet disciplined and calm man, who takes care of the home life and is generally the voice of reason, but does have a sense of humour and can get tough when necessary, mostly to protect the people he cares about.

Spike’s major characteristics are laid out as well. From his physical prowess to his generally laid-back attitude, his sarcastic sense of humour and his nihilism (in a good way, as in he doesn’t think life has any inherent meaning or purpose, but that only means you’re free to give it whatever meaning and purpose you value).

As I alluded to earlier, this first episode also does a great job of giving people a good idea of what to expect in terms of visuals. Thinking about it, this is definitely one of the episodes that falls the furthest on the “western” side of the show (I mean, it’s set in a place called Tijuana, for crying out loud!), but sci-fi elements still pop-up, such as the gates, and I think it was a good idea to introduce them in the first episode in order to make people comfortable with it, as these are definitely one of the harder sci-fi elements in the show, and I’m not sure people would have just gone with it so easily if they’d gotten used to the more realistic aspects of it first.

There’s an especially great moment near the end of the episode that I think illustrates the show’s mixture of western and sci-fi perfectly, as the characters are flying off into space, we see the background quickly shift from the old-fashioned run down city to the vast emptiness of space, with the gates and spacecrafts, in like a second, it really goes to show how these two styles clash yet also merge.

We also get small touches you may not have noticed at first (but your brain did), like having parts of the city being visible almost at an 90 degree angle in the background, the unnatural visual reminding you that in spite of the realism, this IS a sci-fi show.

Another aspect of the show this episode establishes right away is the cultural diversity.

Yes, Cowboy Bebop is very famous for portraying a multitude of cultures and ethnicities, something you didn’t see much in Japanese works of the time (and you still really don’t). The world of Cowboy Bebop frequently features Black people, Middle-Eastern people, Asian people, Native American people (as seen in this very episode), etc... and various people of mixed ancestry. And just look at the above screenshot, where you can see Japanese, Chinese, Arabic, English, Korean and I think I see some Russian and perhaps Thai.

This is something that carries on throughout the show as signs are often translated in many languages, and the announcements at the gates can also be heard in multiple languages. It makes sense when you think about it. People left the Earth to colonise the Solar System, and the earliest settlers would probably be people from all over the world being mixed together. They probably wouldn’t just give up on their cultures, but they’d end up being far closer together than they used to.

By the way, that diversity isn’t just for show and the writers have clearly done their homework as Laughing Bull can be heard calling Wakan Tanka to protect Spike, Wakan Tanka apparently being a spirit (and not just any but “the great spirit”) according to Lakota Sioux beliefs.

Another aspect it shows very well is the atmosphere and tone. It is very dark and heavy in places, but it’s also got some lighter moments. It also displays the show’s affection for tarantinoing. You know, when characters are having dialogue that has nothing to do with the plot and they’re just bullshitting around to add to the general feeling of a scene and the work as a whole?

Now of course, it doesn’t take it to Tarantino’s extremes, and it’s usually in the middle of a scene that is related to the plot, like with Spike complaining that he finds Jet’s lack of beef disturbing while Jet himself is trying to talk business, but it’s nice that it’s there. It’s something love (probably a big part of the reason why I like Tarantino movies so much). I think it adds a lot of character to a work. It makes the world feel much more alive as it shows that the people inhabiting it do have lives outside of the story we’re following.

I’ll take an average story in a world I feel attached to over a carefully crafted one that doesn’t make me care about the world it’s set in. And here, we have a great story set in a world I love, it’s the total package!

Oh yeah, and this is also the first appearance of the Bloody Eye, a very interesting bit of lore, as the drug ends up showing up again and becoming a major plot point later on. I also like the implication that there’s fake Bloody Eye, which is a surprisingly realistic detail for a fantasy drug, as in real life, cheap alternatives to expensive drugs are a thing, and they usually are cut down with all sorts of shit that makes it even worse for your health than the real stuff. Again, there’s a contrast between the very fantastical look of the drug versus the realistic implications of its existence.

Next, I have to mention the visuals because man! I remembered the animation being good, but I never realized it was THIS good. I guess maybe becoming an artist myself has made me gain even more respect and appreciation for this sort of work, but the animation on Cowboy Bebop is still impressive to this day.

The characters and vehicles are pretty much always on model (and indeed, I don’t remember ever seeing a scene that looked off in this show) in spite of being very detailed.

In that regard, some of the shots that I found the most impressive are actually ones of very little importance, like Jet tossing his bell pepper in the pan. Just think for a second of how much of a pain in the ass it must have been to draw several frames of these goddamn peppers, keeping track of which one goes where and making sure their shape and size stays consistent.

Another very impressive one is one Jet arrives to save the day, and we are then treated to a shot of the Hammerhead with Jet inside it slowly tilting downwards. Again, being able to keep all these details consistent, and drawing all these frames at a slightly different angle each time to give the impression of the camera panning, is nothing short of stunning if you have any idea how difficult and time-consuming animation can be.

I heard a big part of the motivation behind Cowboy Bebop was to showcase the studio’s animation abilities, which is why it often has weird trippy scenes and bizarre characters and locations, well mission fucking accomplished, guys!

I also want you to look at the screenshot above because another aspect of this show’s look I always loved is the expressions and body language, being, again, very realistic, but still ever so slightly exaggerated to give it more life. I especially remember this being one of the few shows that often had the characters’ entire jaw move when they talk, not just their mouth. This ended up being a big influence on me as this is how I strive to draw my characters myself. Animated enough to feel intense, but still realistic enough to be relatable.

And as much as I liked anime at the time, I always got annoyed whenever it went super deformed, and I still do, as I usually felt it was trying way too hard to be wacky and ended up ruining its own attempted effect, so it was very refreshing to me to see an anime that kept it believable, but still remembered it was a cartoon, and to take advantage of that fact when they do need to show more dramatic expressions like Asimov’s psycho grin up there.

It’s not just characters either, as we often see parts of the vehicles shake and rattle, and even some details I wouldn’t have thought of but which add a lot, such as a car springing up and down slightly as characters sit in it or exit it. Very very nice attention to detail.

And last but not least, concerning the visuals, yet another thing I love about the show’s aesthetics, and something that helps it feel very grounded, is how almost everything is a bit used up. You have all sorts of little details like scratches on mechanics, cracks on walls, graffiti, posters, dirt, etc... all things that further help make the world feel lived-in, rather than just decoration for a story. They’re like so many scars letting you know that a lot happened there and those who lived to tell the tale have seen some shit.

Now, I also have to bring up the writing. I actually don’t have much to say in the regard. It’s just plain good, and pretty much everything I’ve talked about so far is kind of part of the writing process already, and once again, this first episode does a very good job of letting us know what to expect. Sad moments, happy ones and everything in between.

One thing I will say that never really registered in my mind but that I noticed when re-watching this is that sometimes, we don’t quite know how the characters got where they did and knew where to go, they just kind of show up where they need to be.

But that’s not a bad thing! Because we really don’t need to see how they knew where to go. We can surmise they found some info, followed some trail, or even just made an educated guess on their target’s most likely destination, but to see scene after scene of them tracking their bounty would be pointless, so just having them be there makes the most sense and keep the story flowing (again, keep in mind they only have 20 to 25 minutes per episode).

That’s another thing to keep in mind for any writers out there (including myself): we don’t need to know the exact details of how or why something happened. As long as it doesn’t create plot holes, if we can have a good idea of how they did it, if it makes sense for them to be able to do it, if it doesn’t add anything to either the story, the characters, the lore or the atmosphere, you can skip to what’s important.

And last but certainly not least, there’s the music. I mean... how can you talk about Cowboy Bebop and not talk about the sublime soundtrack by Yoko Kanno and the Seatbelts?

Yet again, this episode sets the mood by showcasing some of the common theme tunes of the show and letting you know that you’re own for lots of western-inspired music and lots of blues, jazz and bebop (who would have thought?).

It all complements the visuals perfectly, and it’s probably not an accident that the show opens with no dialogue or sound effect, but with music, going from the melancholic sounds of a music box to the extremely energetic “Tank!” in the intro, yet another thing highlighting the contrasts of that show.

However, having said that, one thing I noticed through this episode is that, as deeply as it is tied to the show, it doesn’t play all the often. Most of the scenes have no background music. That’s another thing that keeps the show feeling down-to-earth and realistic, and much like with the expressions, it makes the times when it does get stronger all the more powerful.

Trivia / matters of interest:

Couple interesting things I noticed regarding the French dub (which, as I alluded to in my announcement, is excellent, it’s worth noting for anime). I remember that in the English one, Jet describes the food he’s preparing as “bell pepper and beef”, which, you know, is one way to call it, but as I mentioned, the French dub does go the whole hog and gives it its Chinese name, Chinjao rosu, which I feel fits in well with the whole “cultural mixture” thing the show’s got going. Plus, I fele like Jet explicitly mentioning beef makes it sound like he’s just being a dick to Spike.

However, while the French dub is good, it’s not perfect, so we have some weirdness, as Laughing Bull refers to Asimov as “the red-eyed coyote”, which of course alludes to his drug habit, whereas Spike later calls him “the red coyote”, omitting the eye part. Granted, I realize it’s a nitpick and you could easily explain that away as Spike not remembering fully, but I just like “red-eyed” better.

As I mentioned before, Tijuana is a real place and interestingly, this one has a place called Zona Norte, which also exists in the real Tijuana and is a red light district. Guess the settlers who founded this town must have been Tijuana natives.

And that’s it for this first episode. I hope you liked it, thank you very much if you stuck to the end. I realize this was a long read but since this is the first episode and gives me an opportunity to mention recurring elements from the show, I really wanted to cover everything. Future instalments should be shorter. I’m also hard at work on the next part of the FF8 translarison. That’s gonna be a big’un too, so I’m not sure when it’ll be posted, but the screenshots are all done, promise.

You know, this episode was pretty much the perfect average of everything Cowboy Bebop, and yet it was still one of the heavier episodes of the show. We need some levity to clear the air a bit, so thankfully, next time, it’s all about a cute puppy, in Stray Dog Strut!

* I first saw it in the summer of 2000 when it was shown on a channel called Canal +. It was not actually the first time it was aired over here but I do believe this is when it got really popular, as the channel that first broadcast it was a smaller satellite channel, with satellite television not being very big yet at the time.