#what other twelve year old would do that little man’s was FERAL

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If there is one thing you can’t deny Jango instilled in Boba???? It’s The Audacity™️

[hunnylagoon]

Candy

PT1: Sober to Death

Ellie Williams x Reader

I’m home and here to stay like a ghost to haunt. You can’t shake me off your back for I linger in your head like carelessly uttered curse. Summer falls to ashes in my mouth and so I will spit them into your urn, just like that all of my devotion turns violent.

Premise: After a mental break you are being held together by nothing but glitter glue and craft yarn. You seek refuge with an old friend in a coastal town to live the life you thought you left behind.

Warnings: SENSITIVE THEMES / reader is a recovered addict / mentions of drug and alcohol abuse / angst / brief mentions of violence / possibly triggering discussions of drug addiction

Read at your own discretion

Inside me, something seethes. Inside me, some feral animal has been forced into a cage where it thrashes and screams. Perhaps I will turn into a snarling wolf and rip out the throats of each girl who made me go home crying in middle school. Maybe I will don the pelt of a sheep and surprise all of those who convinced me it was a good idea to try ketamine when I shed my cloak and reveal my long curled claws and fangs sharp as knives.

I'm heartless at worst and helpless at best.

I don't know how else to be. I was raised like a stick of dynamite lit from both ends and I can describe in detail how the earth warps beneath my feet or how I watch the sky bend until it snaps and collapses onto a body too tired to lift it back up.

Everything miles ahead of what I was, to them, I was only ever an addict. Cursed with the nickname 'popper' since tenth grade and everyone thought it to be nothing more than a joke they didn't know how I found serenity in the tablet of acid that rested on my tongue. 

It started with pot and drinking on the weekends then flew into full-blown benders when I swallowed back synthetic sunshine like it was candy. None of my friends thought I would end up with my back plastered on my dorm floor, eyes wide with what once was a bottle of pills frothing out of my mouth. 

It took me two overdoses to get here, had to put my white blood cells to work.

"I didn't think you'd be up this early," Joel smiled at me, he was nursing a mug of coffee, a plate in front of him with a half-eaten piece of toast and a golden yoke running onto the porcelain. That might've been my favourite thing about the farm, fresh eggs. Once you have them you can never go back to the sad pale grocery store eggs.

"That makes two of us," I pulled out a chair from the wooden dining table and sat down. Joel had put so much love into this home. These days I’m too nauseous to eat breakfast.

"Ellie doesn't even wake up this early," He took a slug of his black coffee, the scent was strong, filling up the entire house, I could smell it the second I woke up. "How's the room? Is everything to your liking?"

I had felt so guilty for free-loading off Joel whom I hadn't seen since I was twelve, it had been eight years. He sent me cards on my birthday every year but I never was able to grasp how close our parents had been. I'm pretty sure I was friends with Ellie when I was little, there were pictures of the two of us hugging each other and playing beneath sprinklers, my front teeth missing, Ellie covered head to toe in Spider-Man band-aids. I didn't have any recollection of us when we were close, as we got older we got more stiff around each other. When my family would visit, she would hang out with her friends and I would keep to myself. Of course, my parents moved us to the city where everything hit me too hard all at once. "It's perfect, thank you."

"It's pretty hard to peel yourself off that mattress, huh?" Joel smiled at me, showing me every ounce of warmth he had when I was a child.

I nod in response "So much more comfortable than those stiff dorm mattresses," It almost felt like I was making conversation with a ghost.

"Since you're up so early, care for a tour while I do some chores?" He asked. I had been here a few days already, though I just kept to myself I didn't want to impose on his pleasant life with his daughter who hadn't called him at three am sobbing because she had too many opioids. I had wandered briefly around the farm of course and I had remembered bits and pieces of it from my childhood but I felt so out of place that I mainly locked myself inside of my temporary room and lived through my friend's Instagram stories.

"I'd love to," I smile politely, unsure of what else to do. 

 "Do you think you're gonna go back to school?" Joel asked as he stood up with his plate and mug in hand and began to wash them in the stainless steel sink. "No pressure, there's life outside of a lecture hall."

This was a question I had been thinking about day in and day out. I was a year and then some into getting my degree when my 'fun habits' began spiralling uncontrollably. My parents had managed to snag me a two-year deferral so I could go to rehab and go back to school the following year but I was so full of shame that I shook with the thought of going back. For the first time in my life, I am afraid I have no real desires. 

When I was dead inside a motel bathtub, I thought I needed to be somewhere different but now that I'm there, I need to be someone different too. "I'm not really sure right now, just please don't tell my parents I said that."

"Secrets safe with me," He opens a cabinet and pulls out a bag of cat food, shaking it until a scrawny calico cat appears out of thin air. Pepper happily devours the food Joel puts in her little bowl. I remembered Pepper, she was a kitten way back then and I would cut open socks to make clothes for her. "You should just know that it's never too late."

Very early in my life, it was too late. "Thanks, Joel," Not yet a corpse and still I rot like all of my ambitions turn to sludge at my tired feet.

He looks around, exhaling a deep breath, trying to scope out anything else he has to do in the kitchen. "You outta get geared up, I'm gonna wake up Ellie then me and you can get to work."

I nod in agreement even though I'm not sure what he means by 'gear up' so I figure that's just him saying to put on a hoodie and some rain boots. I stand awkwardly by the door, waiting for Joel. Absentmindedly I rock back and forth on my heels hands clasped together. I'm twenty years old but I feel like I'm twelve again, trying to find a place for myself in someone else's life. 

I thought of the last time I was in this house. I was twelve, unaware of the future that awaited me, I had buried a time capsule with Ellie and her cousins somewhere on this property. Writing to my future self, talking about all of the things I should be. If only she saw the brain-rotten zombie that was her destiny.

My parents had told everyone back home I was backpacking across Australia and taking a break from academics to see the world. In the eyes of those who knew me well and were more than aware of what happened, it was a shame to them that I had wasted a sharp brain and a pretty face. It takes a whole lot of strength the endure myself.

It doesn't take long for Joel to walk back down the creaky stairs, Ellie trailing behind him, sleep in her eyes. She's in boxers and one of Joel's old t-shirts, hair still messy and unbrushed. Ellie yawns and gives me a little wave- it wasn't really a wave, just her raising a hand in my direction as an acknowledgment. 

We hadn't spoken much since I got here, I had met her in the past but we didn't know each other. A lot can change in eight years. She wasn't unfriendly toward me, we indulged in small talk and laughed at each other's jokes but each conversation was so shallow I wanted to lay face down and drown in them. 

Ellie goes straight for the fridge, unlike her dad, she pours milk into a sickly sweet cereal which seems cavity-inducing. She was back from college for the summer, taking advantage of her father's love and food. Joel walked over to where I was standing at the door, slipping into his mucking boots. "While you're both here," He says before looking at me "How much do you know about boats?"

I furrow my eyebrows "A good bit I guess?" I answer, figuring he was just trying to rekindle a spark between Ellie and me that had been put out eight years ago by rain, ocean spray, and vodka.

"Y'know, Els," He gestures towards me "This one used to work at her parent's marina, they tell me she's done a couple of repairs and I bet she could give you some pointers on how to fix up that boat." I'm confused by his words, this is the first I've heard about a boat. Joel can see the uncertainty on my face "Her uncle gave her a piece of shit boat last summer before she went back to school, over the year I guess some teenagers thought it was a good hideout and trashed it even more."

"Seriously?" Her head pokes up "It would be great if you could come down with me later, she just needs a little love," Ellie spoons some cereal into her mouth. I had always thought it weird how people spoke about their boats like they were women, I even caught myself doing it on occasion. "Only if you want to, of course."

"Sure," I agree, no idea how much repair this boat was in need of "I've got nothing better to do."

I could tell Joel counted this as a win. I knew he had been commuting with my parents and how desperately they wanted me to keep myself occupied for the summer. "Well, we've got some work to do, kiddo."

After a solid five hours of following Joel around like a duckling and re-learning all the names of the animals, I was walking with Ellie toward her pickup truck. "Wanna drive?" She asks as we walk to the long beaten driveway

"Oh, I can't." The coolness of the morning has ebbed away into a borderline unbearable heat, I wasn't sure how Ellie was absolutely unfazed in her Jeans, T-shirt, and trucker hat. 

"You never got your licence?"

"No, it got taken away."

She cracks a grin "Jeez, what did you do? Hit a pedestrian?" Ellie teases.

"Something like that," Truthfully, my licence got revoked after I got a DUI and swerved my car off the highway, I was too high to realize the danger I was in and laughed the entire time warm blood pooled from a gash in my head that had to be stapled shut. Luckily my parents can throw money at anything and the problem will go away. 

She hops in the truck, there are little bits and pieces of it that show how it's lived in. A rubber duck with sunglasses sits on the dashboard and I'm partially surprised it hasn't melted in the sweltering heat. 

As beautiful and scenic as the drive down to the docks is, it's also extremely awkward, only on my end, Ellie seems completely unfazed. Travelling down the dirt roads until we finally hit the pavement. 

The salty breeze of Andromeda Cove carries conversations of clubbing and tanning, mingling with the sweet scent of coconut sunscreen and sea salt. Colourful beach umbrellas dot the shoreline. Seagulls glide effortlessly overhead, their calls blending seamlessly with the distant laughter of beachgoers. Quaint shops and cafes line the bustling boardwalk, offering an array of surfboards, souvenirs, and freshly caught seafood delicacies.

The Cove was immune to those gross and bland modern buildings that looked like something I would've made in Minecraft as a kid. Everything down here was local and kept its charm even after all these years. "Do you ever miss it here?" 

"I don't remember much of it to be honest."

"Really?" She asks, taking a turn down to the docks "It doesn't seem like it was that long ago."

"Yeah, my memory just isn't very good." My lungs are burnt and my brain is fried. You could tell me that I was in cheerleading for five years of my life and I would probably believe you. 

"Alright." 

I hadn't remembered her being this quiet but then again I don't remember much, I should probably write down everything I can before Alzheimer's sets in. There are lapses in my mind where memories should live, I recall my life through glimpses.

Ellie takes her keys out of the ignition and hops out of the truck, leading me down the docks. I keep guessing in my head which boat belongs to her and then the second I spot it, I know and how I dread. It's a sailboat or what's left of one, sharpie graffiti scribbled all around it. The word 'wanderlust' had once been titled along the side though the first half was scratched out by what I assume were those teenagers Joel mentioned so it just said 'lust'.

Ellie had no problem climbing aboard, I on the other hand had doubts that it could support the weight of two people, let alone itself. There were chips of white paint scraped off, Ellie motioned for me to get on deck  "How long has this been abandoned?"

She waves me off  "There's freedom that comes with abandonment."

I raise an eyebrow "Sinking in a boat that's docked is a very lame way to die."

"Nah," She says "We can haunt the marina."

She holds out her hand for me to take it and with hesitation, I do. Stepping over the gap between the dock and the boat, I haul myself over the rails. Even in the dark, I could make that climb, it was almost like muscle memory from working at my parents marina summer after summer. "She's a beauty, yeah? In her own special kind of way," Ellie pats the side of the companionway. "I actually made some progress on it last summer, if you can believe me."

"I don't know if I can," I look around, following her as we duck into the saloon.

She reaches for a notebook with a pink sharpie clipped onto it on the table of the saloon and turns to face me "Whoever was here must've been a real wordsmith, what I can't figure out is how the words got out of the notebook and onto my walls." 

I crawl onto the cushioned V-berth to get a better look at all of the writing on the walls. Most of it had been poetry, not Edgar Allen Poe but the kind that only an angsty teenage girl on the verge of a mental break could've written. 

The Statue of Juliette:

May I ask what you have done to women?

That your hands have only learned to harm one

Hand after filthy hand

Is dragged

Groped

Caressed

Prodded

Over my rusted skin

The things I have seen

The things I have endured

No water can clean me

No blanket can warm me

Take a hammer to my bronze flesh

And I will thank you for your kindness

As my body crumbles and clatters against cobblestone

I am eternally grateful

For this is the gentlest act I have ever faced

"I know," Ellie says, and I look back to meet her sharp gaze "A real Sylvia Plath.”

"Is this your candle?" I reach for it on the ground, it's halfway through its life. A vanilla bean bath and bodyworks candle.

She takes it from my hand and gives it a sniff "I was wondering why it smelled so good in here, I just thought that was you." She places the candle back onto the saloon table "So, Neptune's daughter, where should we start?"

I snatch the notebook from the table and flip it open to a page clean of any writing. It takes a little less than fifteen minutes to seek out all of the trouble spots. Ellie followed behind me and nodded to everything that I was saying. 

The boat isn't in nearly as bad of condition as I expected. I suspected that the teenagers who occupied it while Ellie was away at college had all been girls, they took relatively good care of the boat aside from the graffiti, allegedly most of the damage had been there when Ellie got it from Tommy a year ago.

We now sat next to each other in the booth around the saloon table, the ocean rocked the boat beneath us ever so gently, the same way a mother would rock her child's cradle. I missed the sea when I was in college, on a bender I had driven three hours just to be back with it, it seemed the only safe place to let go and be reborn. I liked the sharpness of the air, the vastness of the horizon and the mystery beneath it. I thought I would rise from the seafoam a new woman the same way Aphrodite did but no, I threw up on the sandy shores and called my parents to make it go away.

I give the notebook over to Ellie, a new entry written in bright pink Sharpie amongst the poetry and anecdotes. 

Wanderlust's issues:

Mainsail and jib seem sketchy; Unfold the hoist for a full assessment

Wiring issues are out of my hands but a probable concern-should probably call in an expert

Nav instruments are cracked

Leaks on starboard window, probs cracked moulding

Interior woodwork is original, mainly solid despite a bit of mildew

Graffiti and chipped paint, graffiti likely cleanable (May need a new coat of paint)

Possible rigging issues

Underside? That's a question for the experts

Final Verdict: Wanderlust is a seaworthy vessel in need of some love

Ellie lets out a low whistle "God, I love a girl who knows the difference between a mainsail and a jib." She cracks a mischievous grin.

"You're teetering very close between sexy and crass," I tease her in return.

She seems a little taken aback by my comment, like she hadn't anticipated a response but ignores it nonetheless "What would it take to make you my first mate?"

"I'm sorry?"

"For someone with a bad memory, you seem to know your boats, Joel said that you used to work on charters. You gotta know more about sailing than me. It'll be a fun summer project, get you out of the house a bit."

I furrow my eyebrows as I look at her "You want me to work on the boat with you?"

Ellie nodded. She didn't rush to fill the silence that stretched between us, she didn't bother to sweeten the deal or hunt for some reason I would like working with her. She just let it stand. I looked her in the eyes, trying to figure her out. She goes from being almost non-verbal with me and now she asks me to spend the summer on a boat with her. I wondered if she knew what she was doing at all and if I would be carrying her through this.

I had a feeling that Ellie would become my next bad habit. It's easy to get addicted when everything interests you and nothing satisfies you. "I'm in."

"You won't regret this," Ellie almost jumps up, I swear I could've seen her making calculations in her head "So, I'm thinking we get rid of all this junk and get a good look at it bare bones, make a list of supplies and give her the spa day shes in desperate need of."

On my second day as first mate, I had been scrubbing away inside of the saloon while Ellie did some work on the exterior, my Scrub Daddy was being put to work. By the time I even made a dent in all of the Sharpie poetry, it was nearly falling apart and begging to be killed.

When I emerged from the companionway to replace my filthy bucket of water I spotted Ellie chatting up a girl on a dock. She had long glossy black hair that cascaded down her back in strategic ringlets. "So you're gonna sail on this thing?"

"Rebuilding her first," Ellie tells her, leaning against the railing. The girl she's speaking to looks like she's freezing, denim shorts cropped high and a white tank top.

"Do you need help?" She smiles and even I'm seduced by it. She has tanned skin that she's clearly been working on and sunglasses pushing back the silky hair from her forehead. "I've been on boats, lots of times," Her arms are crossed over her chest. I can see goosebumps all over her legs from the chill brought to us by the gray sky above and the frigid air. 

"That so?" Ellie asks, rising to her full height. A wrench in hand, it looks like the beginning of a really bad movie, not a family-friendly one. She saw me then, standing behind her. I watched her facade drop. Her smile changed as I approached, turning from flirt to friend in two seconds.

"Oh, hey," The black-haired girl regards me like I'm some kind of threat. "So do you need help or what?" 

Ellie looks at me and then back to her "Thanks for the offer but we're all set."

"Do you maybe wanna grab lunch or something?" She completely ignores me.

Ellie shakes her head "We've got lots of work to do, but-" She takes a deliberate pause and I almost cringe "I'll probably be at the shipwreck later. Stop by if you're around."

"See ya'," She grins and takes the sunglasses off the top of her head, placing them on the nose bridge before walking back down the dock.

"Wow," I dump my bucket of water over the rail of the boat "Looks like super difficult work out here, you are so brave." Sarcasm drips from my tone "Without you, who will flirt with all of the hot girls at the marina?"

"No need to be jealous," She says "I'm spending every waking minute with you after all."

I gave her the evil eye but I truly wasn't jealous. I didn't chase the thrill of a fling or late nights with girls whom I would forget by morning. I had dropped that by college and replaced it with ketamine and opioids, I abused liquor like I was its two-faced love. Now the only thing I chased was calmness. 

I wasn't jealous, just briefly reminiscing over how carefree I used to be. 

The tide was rolling and the sky above us was gray and angry as if something was raging within it. "Shit," I mutter, waves shifting from a distant hiss to a closer hush. The air hung heavy, I hadn't even noticed the change in weather from what seemed like the century I spent scrubbing away in the saloon. 

Ellie must've noticed what I was. "So, I'm thinking we should go?"

"You think?" I retort.

Moments later we're packed and rushing down the dock to find her truck. It doesn't take long for rain to begin to splatter on the ground beneath us, it isn't light and gentle, it's harsh. It sounds like pebbles being tossed onto a sheet of glass.

By the time we reach the truck, I'm soaked, hair sticking to my forehead and neck "You didn't want to poke your head into the saloon and say 'Hey, it's looking like there's gonna be a storm'?" 

"I was a little preoccupied," Ellie isn't much better off than I am, she takes off the flannel she had on top of her tank top and tosses it into the backseat, her tattoo out on full display. The rain is so heavy that everything on the outside of her truck looks like a blur. 

"Can you even drive in this?"

"No, can you?"

"No, I told you I have a DUI," The second the words leave my mouth I regret the slip-up. My eyes go wide and a hand slaps over my mouth, I'm acting like I just told her I was the one who took out JFK.

"You didn't tell me that."

"Well," I look forward, ignoring her piercing gaze, "I thought I did."

If not for the rain outside that pounded against the glass as if it wanted to be let in, we would've sat in complete silence while we drowned beneath all of the words going unsaid. My mind begins to wonder, first I think of the black-haired girl at the docks; I hope she didn't get stuck outside in the rain, especially with her lack of clothing. Then I think about what Ellie's thinking, did she know already? Had Joel told her? I'm humiliated all over again like I'd been when the paramedics dragged my half-naked body out of a bathtub.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" She asks. I don't say anything and she takes this as a hint "We don't have to talk about it."

I'm beginning to grow comfortable with the silence. I almost preferred it to the back-and-forth banter Joel and Ellie constantly had, which was more so father and daughter teasing each other.

Joel had probably known more about me than I did, my parents liked to keep him filled in after all. They just loved to keep tabs on me, if it was legal I'm sure they would put cameras behind my retinas and watch my every move. Eight months ago when I was in rehab, that was the most peace I've ever felt. As much as my parents wanted me clean, they held resentment since I ruined my life and was destroying theirs by association. Joel didn't seem like the type to gossip to his daughter but it nagged at me regardless. "Did Joel tell you anything?"

"What do you mean?"

"Just-like," I search through my brain to find the words "Like what I've been up to?"

She shrugged "He just said you are on a deferral and need a break from the city."

"Okay," I say, my voice so quiet it was almost smothered by the obnoxious rain. 

"Are you hungry?"

We had thrown on two jackets Ellie had in the back seat of the cars. She offered me Joel's black raincoat while she humbly took the bright yellow rain poncho. It took everything in me not to laugh at her, she looked like Georgie.

Ellie slung one arm around me, we were both hunched over as we ran as fast as we could. She was shouting stuff at me but I couldn't hear her through the rain, I just nodded in agreement and hoped she hadn't said something awful.

She tugged me left, the deluge chasing us into Salty's for cover. It was nearly dead in there, two other tables, one was an elderly couple and the other was a group of girls, laughing like hyenas while one of them showed the others a picture on her phone.

Ellie wasted no time in taking off her poncho and I didn't blame her, no one wanted to be seen in that. The second we settled into a booth by the huge glass window which took up the entire storefront, an over-eager waiter came up. He was tall, had dark hair and had handsome features, he must've been bored with how slow it was in here. "Hey, Jesse," Ellie said "Can I have water and a big-buck burger?"

He nodded and swerved his body to look at me, "Alright and for you-" He looked up from his notepad and paused for a moment before a huge smile cracked on his face "I haven't seen you in so long!" 

"Hi," I smiled, my mouth hanging openly awkwardly as I tried to recall him.

"Do you remember me?" He asked, his hand dropping to his side "Jesse," He reminded "We used to go to school together."

I had no idea who he was "Oh my god, yes!" I say "I remember."

His smile grows "God, you look so different."

"You too," I gesture at him "You're way more-" My mind falls flat "Grown."

He nods along to my words "Have you had a chance to look at the menu?"

Wanting this conversation as soon as possible I nod despite not even opening the menu “Yeah, I'll just get the, uh, big-buck and a club soda.” I repeated Ellie's order.

He jots it down onto his notepad "It'll be right up."

"Ellie, I don't know who that is," I say when I see him retreat to the server station to fill in the order. The entire restaurant is nautical-themed, the walls painted black, and there were nets with faux fish covering every square inch of the ceiling.

"Wow, I had no idea," She says, sarcastically "Damn, your memory really is fucked." 

Trust me, I know or at least I think I do. I disregard her comment "Water? Don't you wanna get rootbeer or something? Joel said you drink so much soda that your blood is made of corn syrup."

She grins "Gotta keep up the tough guy act."

Across the restaurant one of the girls waves to Ellie, this one has curly brown hair and a sundress "Hi, Ellie!"

Her eyebrows furrow "Hey there-um...you," Ellie said "Good to see you again."

The girl smiles slyly at Ellie before turning back to her friends. "Looks like I'm not the only one forgetting people, what's your excuse?"

"There's a lot of girls in the world, I can't remember all of their names."

"You must've gone through every girl in the cove, power to ya'," I say "No idea you had such a reputation."

"You don't know a lot about me."

I shrug "You know even less about me."

"I bet I could guess."

"Be my guest."

She leans back like she's carefully considering her next words, choosing them very wisely before she finally settles "You picked a major like communications and got bored quickly, decided you needed to do some soul searching. Probably read 'Eat, Prey, Love,' then went on a backpacking trip, expenses paid by your parents. Alternatively, you lived in a van and pretended to be a broke hippie."

I shook my head "Very cliche and you were only right about one thing."

"What?"

"I got bored quickly," The rain outside was failing to cease. Across from me, it looked like Ellie was calculating my every move. Her auburn hair was still wet, and from her hairline, a droplet of water dribbled down onto her button nose to rest on her cupid bow.

"Can I have a hint then?"

"No."

I see a realisation hit her "You partied with frat guys?"

I shook my head "I've always been too cool for them." I wasn't too cool for them, I was too fucked up to even know they were throwing a party until someone verbally informed me, by that point all I've ever done at a frat party was break in through a window and steal a keg like the disgusting fiend I was. It was nothing to be proud of, my friends thought it was hilarious and posted it on their Snapchat stories, egging me on and feeding into this sickening behaviour. What wasn't funny was how I got caught and winded up with a busted lip and broken rib. With pupils the size of my iris, I couldn't feel the pain I was in.

"Okay, now you have to tell me."

"I can't, I lose my mysterious allure."

The bell above the door chimes signalling the arrival of another customer and said customer makes a b-line for our table. She takes a seat next to Ellie "Jesse texted me that you were here.”

"Dina, were you at work?" Ellie furrows her eyebrows.

"Yeah, it's not like anyone's buying souvenirs right now and Jesse told me you finally came back," She whips her head to look over at me.

I genuinely remembered her, unlike Jesse. She had buried the time capsule with Ellie, her family and I. I also recalled how her older sister used to give us hand-me-down clothes. "Dina, hi."

She has freckles scattered across her face the same way that Ellie does. Her smile was so comforting, I forgot that I was soaked to my bones and shivering. "Well we should all do something together tonight," Dina grins "You're doing Ellie a huge favour by helping her fix that rig, she better give you some good head for it."

I almost choke on my saliva while Ellie just groans with disappointment like she had anticipated Dina saying something along those lines "D, you can't say that stuff around every girl I'm with, this is essentially my sister for the summer."

Dina raises her hands in defence "Sorry, my bad, I was unaware since you failed to mention that you have my old friend living with you." Ellie looks like she's going to say something but Dina speaks up again before she has the chance to "Let me give you my number."

Wordlessly, I hand my phone over to Dina who fills out her contact information and then gives my phone right back to me. I study Dina's face and her mannerisms, hoping that something might bring me back to my childhood which has been wiped away by every upper and downer you could put a name to. Something about her seemed familiar, maybe we had been closer friends than I thought.

I nod along to whatever she and Ellie are saying, chiming in random bits of dialogue but my mind is stuck on the two of them side by side. They're what I could've been if my family never moved us away and I hadn't turned my brain into sludge.

The life I could've had.

 Ellie smoked from what I knew, maybe Dina or Jesse were into something a little more hardcore. Hardcore? If hardcore qualifies as drowning in a concoction of cough syrup, Vicodin, codeine, and Gatorade to balance out the flavour of self-destruction. The bottles I swallowed to sleep, I showed up to almost every lecture high. Here I was handed what was nearly a good life and I tossed it away for something with a sweeter taste than a stable job and proper education.

The horrors I've committed. No good deed will ever outdo the bad that I have unleashed upon this godforsaken earth. From my clouded brain, paralyzing thoughts come to life to curse myself, the nightmare no mother would wish for her child to endure. 

Relapse after relapse, I would fall sick with the thought of how many times I had to relapse until I was finally clean and that bitter flavour washed from my mouth.

"Are you okay?" Dina asks with a smile and furrowed brows "We kind of lost you there."

It's one in the morning and I want to drink wine then slip beneath the rapid waters that will gladly pull me under and claim me as theirs.

Instead, I opt for a class of water. As Dina had said earlier, she wanted to get a bunch of friends together but the second we got home, I showered and locked myself away. Echoes of laughter and chatter drifted through my window.

I slip down the steps that lead to the kitchen. Outside the rain has finally dissipated and Ellie, Dina, Jesse, along with a handful of people I don't know crowd around a bonfire. The kitchen is illuminated only by moonlight, the moon hung over me as I poured myself water from the tap, a dead thing over a dying thing. 

I have seafoam in my veins and centuries-passed sunshine that induces my craving for some pills that will put me to sleep. Three months completely clean and yet that doesn't end the yearning for the drugs that comforted me more than any human ever had. 

The door cracks open and in comes Ellie, she's laughing and from the uncontrollable giggles, drowsy gaze, and slightly disoriented walking I can tell that she's been smoking. "Hey," She smiles at me, reaching passed me to grab a mug with Garfield on the front and fill it with water but she doesn't take a sip, she just sits it down on the counter behind us and stares at me.

Our faces only inches apart, I contemplate her next move. This close I can smell the marijuana on her and I almost want to scuttle upstairs and light a candle. Ellie hugs me, wrapping her arms around my midriff and letting her head find its resting place in the crook of my neck "Are you okay?"

"Mhm" She hums "I'm just glad you're here, whatever the circumstances are, I'm happy that you're helping me with the boat," I'm carrying almost her full way, and she's slouched against me "I love you man, I know you don't remember a lot from when we were kids but we had a lot of fun together."

"Thanks, Ellie," I give her a little pat on the back "That's really nice of you."

She peels herself away from me, using the counter to lean against instead. She looks me up and down, having an intense staring contest with my pyjamas "Do you wanna come out and smoke with everyone?" She's shed her tank top and thrown over a gray hoodie to shroud her from the oncoming cold.

I shake my head, no "I don't mess with that stuff."

"That's smart," She says "Have fun in your room, stowaway, I'll see you tomorrow to work on our boat," With that Ellie leaves without grabbing the Garfield mug she came in here for.

A/N: Hey, y’all. I’m aware I have a million open docs, I assure you they are all getting some love but I needed to come back to my roots and write some angst. These are some issues I have struggled with and I feel that it’s important to bring attention to it so it’s not taboo.

[milkymoon2483]

The Blue Elephant

Push & Pull - Episode 1 Frank Castle X Plus Size Jewish OFC

Series Masterlist | Next Episode

Summary: DBF but dad’s dead. Your’e going back to your small town for your father’s funeral and Shiva. You know you’re about to face family drama but what worries you the most is that you’re going to see HIM.

Disclaimers: 

This episode mentions a 14 year old girl having an UNRECIPROCATED crush on a much older man. HE SEES HER AS A CHILD at this point. 

I’m Jewish (and plus size) but I do not live in the US, so there might be some differences in the way certain things are done and some inaccuracies. My apologies. 

Yes this is self indulgent because I’m feral for this man.

I’m secular and will not be discussing Judaism in length. Will explain some basics though that are mentioned in the story.

Rating: E.18+. MINORS DNI.

Warnings: Teenage crush on a much older man, Mentions of alcoholism, divorce, trauma, plus size reader, insecurities, age gap, violence, sex, food, and probably a bunch of other stuff. This is a little dark. WC: ~3300

Thank you my lovelies. @romanarose @hbc8 @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @boysddontcry @imaswellkid

The blue elephant.

Your phone rang in an ungodly hour, waking you up from a dream you had forgotten as soon as you opened your eyes.  8:15 AM. Who dares calling you this early on semester break?! 

"Hello, am I speaking to Hannah Friedman?" 

"Hi, yes, who is this?" You answered, barely recognizing your own voice that was hoarse with sleep.  

"Miss Friedman, my name's Michael Katz, I was your father's attorney. I'm very sorry for your loss. I'm calling regarding his will." 

Confusion flooded you, and for a moment you were sure the man calling had the wrong number.

Suddenly your heart dropped, the true meaning of his words not fully sinking into your skull just yet. 

"Miss Friedman….?" His voice tried to break the long pause. 

"Yeah, I'm sorry, could you repeat that?"

"I'm calling regarding your father's will, since he passed away…" 

"Shit. Sorry, I just…I didn't know. Shit. When did it happen?" 

Your father was dead.

Michael Katz, bless his heart, apologized profusely for the terrible way you had to find out. He proceeded to explain everything in great detail, making sure to schedule a meeting with you as soon as you got into town for his funeral. He died in the early hours of the previous evening. Cirrhosis complications after years of excessive drinking, that’s what finally did him in, a part of you was surprised he lasted that long. 54 years old at the time of his death, Saul Friedman was a sick man, and not much of a father to begin with. A recovering alcoholic at the best of times, he rarely called or took much interest in your life, despite living 45 minutes away. 

When you turned twelve things changed for the better, after bumping into you on a trip to a local supermarket with your mom and her new boyfriend, he suddenly felt an urgent need to get sober, and get to know you better. Your mother agreed, she took less convincing than both of you had anticipated. You ended up visiting more, and staying for a few weeks each summer, the community pool around the corner being your main incentive. Your relationship was never able to fully recover, but you both tried your best. You’d often say you loved him but sometimes didn’t really like him. 

Your mother was his second wife, and after three years of marriage and one kid, they divorced, very much non-amicably, leaving a trail of wreckage behind them.  You were thankful that you were just a toddler, too young to truly understand how deeply they've wounded each other clawing their way out of what your mother described to be the ‘worst three years of my goddamn life’.  You'd often wonder, had she not been jewish, would she be saved from the displeasure of ever marrying him in the first place. Your grandparents must have insisted on him having jewish children, and according to Halacha*, their mom had to be one. 

You remembered the last time you visited him, the visit was cut short when you caught him drinking again. “ You don't get to preach me” he lashed out at you,  “You’re a bitch just like your mother”. 

You left abruptly after that, not willing to take more of his crap. At that point you were visiting for him, because you felt obligated to do that. That sense of obligation was gone.

He called to apologize a few weeks later, but the dry conversation left much to be desired. Since then you’ve called and texted occasionally, but you never came to visit again, coming up with various excuses to avoid it. 

Now he was dead.

"At least he knew when to die.." you later told your best friend, Grace. He had the sensibility to pass on right at the beginning of the winter break from college, giving you a good few weeks to deal with it before coming back to school to finish your final year. You could share your appreciation for your fathers morbid timing with Grace, but there was one thing you couldn't. A thought so shameful you smacked it back to where it came from as soon as it surfaced. You refused to acknowledge it, refused to name it, there would be no talking and no thinking of him. Not right now.

It was about as effective as telling yourself not to think about a blue elephant. You kept playing the game of 'whack a mole' with your brain, and kept losing.  Your father was dead, and it took you mere seconds to realize that you’re going to see him.

Summer 2013

You looked at yourself in the water- damaged mirror, it was crooked and filled with specks of rust, large stains of disilvering ate away at your reflection. The one piece purple bathing suit was wet, clinging to your form, accentuating the awkward lumpiness of your chest and belly under the harsh fluorescent lighting. Your mother picked it out with you, from the sale rack in TJmaxx’s women’s department. That miserable shopping trip almost made you cry. Most of them did. Your adolescent body didn't look right, didn't feel right. It was all too much, too round, too full. You’d follow your much smaller mother around the shops, gradually losing hope with every one you passed, settling eventually on another trip to Starbucks. An iced vanilla latte was sure to cheer you up.  You took solace in your sunglasses, rimmed in a bright red thick frame. The ones you nagged your dad into buying you, they made you feel cool. As cool as you could, that is. A piece of 'coolness' that belonged to you. You placed them on your nose with a slight sense of pride, heading out of the bathrooms. 

Your eyes searched for him immediately, finding him lounging on one of the sun-beds. Alone. Walking as inconspicuously as you could, you sat on the bed next to him, pretending not to notice him. You dove head first into your bag, looking for your phone. don’t look at him, don't look at him. Your thoughts raced, desperately hoping that he would be the one to look at you.

You've known Frank for a couple of years, as your dad's friend and neighbor. He would often join you for Shabbat dinner, bringing a bottle of a non- alcoholic beverage or some fruit. He was younger than your dad but you weren't sure by how much.

You’ve always found him hot, it was impossible not to, with his sharp jaw and boyish smile. He was tall and broad and handsome. You nursed your little secret crush on him, getting excited and giddy every time he came to visit, not daring to mention to anyone that you even found this old man so attractive.

This, however, was the first time you’ve seen him shirtless, and your fourteen year-old self could not handle the sight. You gawked at the grown man uncontrollably, your gaze hidden only by your ‘cool’ sunglasses.  The biceps, the pecs, the broadness of his shoulders and the way his torso tapered into his waist. The dip of his spine, the muscles of his back, the way the droplets of water clung to his skin and made it glisten…it all made your brain short- circuit, melt under the fog of hormones.

“Hey kiddo, I like the sunglasses” He suddenly said, in a tone more cheerful than you’d expected.

“Thanks” you muttered. It took your poor brain a few attempts to signal your mouth to smile. You hated it when he called you ‘kiddo’. You wished it would be ‘sweetheart’ or ‘darling' or ‘doll’.

“Can I try them on?” he smirked.

You handed them to him without a word, scrunching your face at the sun. Youv'e learned that it is often better to say nothing rather than risk embarrassing yourself. 

Frank put them on, they looked ridiculous of course, the bright red cat-eye was in sharp juxtaposition to his purely masculine features. He chuckled and pulled on the temple tips behind his ear- bouncing them on his large nose, causing you to giggle. 

"There she is! Don't be so serious all the time, kiddo. Have some fun" he smiled and handed them back to you, the tip of his finger brushing against yours. Never washing my hands again. You decided, as he got up and headed towards the pool. Your eyes followed him as usual, admiring the broadness of him. 

The water was buzzing with activity, and all you could think about is how much you'd love it to be empty. It was far too crowded to swim, but it did allow you to keep staring uninterrupted. 

The friendly game of 'throw the ball as hard as you can and cause the biggest splash' was on. Your dad had your cousin  Jacob on his shoulders, the scrawny nine year old was doing quite a bit of damage, landing a throw so accurate it splashed violently all across Frank's face. 

Frank shook the water off, spotting you in the corner of the pool, and swam right towards you. "Come on Hannah banana, I need your help, let's get em' " he smiled widely, and before you had a chance to respond he dove underneath you. 

The gravity beneath you shifted as he began lifting you up from the water. You yelped loudly and grabbed tightly at the head that popped up between your legs, trying to steady yourself. 

You haven't done this since you were seven, when you were light enough to be held on anyone's shoulders, but Frank lifted you up effortlessly, like you weighed nothing, like it was no trouble at all. 

Your thighs squeezed against his neck and shoulders. The ball somehow landed in your hands but all you could think about were franks palms, gripping your legs tightly, keeping you firmly on him. A heady mixture of emotions stirred in your belly. The fear of falling into the pool, mixed with the exhilaration of Frank's hands on your thighs. You could see his large fingers pressing into your flesh, and it was making your head spin. 

You threw the ball as hard as you could, landing a pretty decent splash on your aunt's face. She laughingly demanded her son 'avenge her'. A few more splashes and Jacob came face to face with you, attempting to push you off Frank's shoulders. The poor kid clearly underestimated your determination, and promptly landed in the water, ass first. Frank cheered you on, patting his large palm on your leg before letting you fall into the pool with a little nudge. You emerged from the water laughing, the adrenaline coursing through your veins so potent you could not stop, giggling almost uncontrollably as it sizzled through you.  "Yeah! We win! suck it!" Frank's arms wrapped around you in a tight hug, your body reciprocated before your mind had a chance to catch up, squishing your cheek against his chest. It was over before you even realized. A quick innocent congratulatory hug, that pressed you against his solid frame that towered over you, sending your already overstimulated brain into a tailspin.

*******

You remembered that day vividly, in detail, every part of your visit to the pool was etched into your mind. It was like a switch flipped, or a wire was plugged in, sometimes you likened it to a detonation of a bomb.  It confused you at first, you were flooded with something so potent that it took you a while to recognize what that was. The tingling sensation between your thighs was familiar, but it was never this intense.  The deep shameful truth was that from that day forward, Frank Castle was responsible for the vast majority of your orgasms, without touching you once. It horrified you at first, especially when you learned that he was 19 years older than you. You were disgusted with yourself, with the thoughts that kept getting increasingly more explicit as you aged. It didn’t matter if you were touching yourself or having sex with someone else. It didn’t matter how it started, it would almost always end with him. His voice, his hands, his face, thinking about him was the sure fire way of making yourself cum. 

You hated yourself for thinking about him right now, on the way to your fathers fucking funeral. It was like a pavlovian response you could not shake. You were equal parts hoping you'd see him and dreading the thought of facing him. It’s been three years since you saw him last, and something changed that day.

Hanukkah 2019

The snow was piling outside, a wintery scene in complete contrast to the heat in your dad's kitchen. You were with your aunt Deborah, Jacob’s mom.  She always loved it when you came to visit, she loved it especially when she got to spend time cooking with you. Being a boy-mom, they never took interest in her cooking. You however loved it, your mother was never much of a cook and this was your chance to learn from a true expert. You were making Sufganiyot* for Hanukkah. The jewish bakery made them well, but Aunt Deborah’s were divine. Something about adding buttermilk to the dough.

When Frank came that day it wasn’t planned. “Deb, are you making the jewish doughnuts again? I can smell it all the way across my yard, you’re killing me” his voice boomed as he entered the house. Your heart skipped. You were in your apron, covered in flour, and very much unprepared to see the man you harbored a weird sexual obsession towards. 

“Come in Frank, they’re still hot” Deborah replied as she met him at the door, and Frank's heavy boots marched straight to the kitchen.

“Oh, hey there Hannah banana” he greeted you fondly, giving you a small wave. 20 years old, and still "Hannah banana"... 

“Hey Frank” you waved back, not taking your eyes off the man. 

He plucked a fresh warm Sufgania off the tray, covered in powdered sugar, with a little dollop of red jam on top. “Mmmm come here baby” he growled and stuffed his face into the soft dough, taking a huge bite, muttering “oh my god” and rolling his eyes back in pleasure. This man will be the death of you.

Frank chewed in delight as you tried not to laugh at him, his nose was covered in powdered sugar and jam. He looked back at you, fully aware of the dire situation of his face. “What? What?? I got something on my face?” he smirked, prompting you to giggle.

“Come here Kiddo, you have to taste this”.

He began to slowly advance towards you, before fully chasing you around the kitchen with the Sufgania in hand. You squealed, ‘trying’ to get away from him and ‘failing’. When he finally caught you and cornered you against the wall, he stuffed the remaining dough in your face. You laughed hysterically while attempting to clean your face from the sugar and jam, wiping a small drop from the corner of your mouth with your thumb, and sucking the finger, looking up at Frank through your lashes. Your eyes met at that exact moment, and for a beat you both got quiet. Too quiet.

His laughter faded into a polite smile almost instantly, as he backed off and walked out of the kitchen. 

He never touched you again after that day. He was not even around for the rest of your visit. You saw him once more, just when you were leaving back to college. Instead of the usual goodbye hug he settled for a wave and a “Bye kiddo”, shortly disappearing back into the house. 

Maybe he saw something in your eyes, something inappropriate that shouldn’t have been there in the first place. Maybe that’s when he realized that every time he touched you was like pouring gasoline into a raging fire. Maybe things could have been different, if only you were older, thinner, sexier…not just Saul’s chubby awkward kid. 

It only took a second, one fucking second for Frank to notice what was right in front of him this whole goddamn time. One look into your soft eyes, One flick of pink tongue on your finger, and it was all clear. The thought traveled so fast from his cock to his brain he barely stopped it in time, running out of that kitchen as fast as humanly possible. You were just a kid, Saul’s kid. It was obviously sick to think about you in any other capacity. 

He remembered the time you all went ice skating, how he held your little hand when you kept stumbling and falling. The time when he took you for your first unofficial driving lesson just before you turned 16, in the empty supermarket parking lot. The time when you called him looking for your dad, he told you he’s probably asleep, and you began crying because you knew what that meant.

Were you looking at him like that the entire time? You had no fucking business looking at him like that. How dare you look at him like that.

*******

You had just a few hours to get ready and make the trip back into your hometown for the funeral the following morning. Knowing how jewish funerals worked you weren't surprised, most are buried within 48 hours of passing. 

Just a 3 hour trip from college, it felt like a different planet. You looked out of the frosted car window as Deborah was driving you both to her house, where the shiva* would be held. The snow fell softly and the storefronts decorated for Christmas gave your small town a charming cozy atmosphere. You could almost forget where you were headed. 

Beth Moses cemetery was eerily foggy, the two dozen people who had gathered for your father’s funeral were murmuring almost silently to each other. 

“You shouldn’t have worn that. And take that lipstick off, this is not a party.” your mother whispered as loudly as she possibly could, not taking into consideration that her voice carried. “Cover yourself up, here take my scarf” , you let her drape the back scarf over you, covering the dark gray sweater dress you were wearing under your coat, the one she deemed inappropriate because it showed some cleavage and clung to your belly a little too much for her liking. 

“Well, thanks for the kriah* I won’t be wearing this again after this week, mother” you replied sarcastically. Even though sarcasm never seemed to work on that woman, she was immune to your snide comments, nothing could penetrate the thick layer of self righteousness she wore like her favorite garment the whole fucking time.

“Hey Han”  Your heart skipped a beat at the sound of the familiar deep voice. He appeared before you almost instantly, mercifully tearing your attention from your mother and her constant disapproval. He leaned in for a polite hug, the scent of his cologne flooding your senses, spicy and crisp. He looked the same, just like you remembered and envisioned thousands of times. Same intense dark eyes, same strong jaw, same boxer's nose that you adored. 

“How have you been?” he asked, his voice quiet and grave.

“Hey Frank, I’m ok, yeah..” you replied, robotically, still a little shocked to see him again. 

"Jackie…" he acknowledged your mother with a nod, before proceeding to greet other members of the family. 

The small crowd surrounded the newly dug grave, muttering “amen” with the rabbi as he read the Kadish*. The vapor from their mouths like a silent choir in the cold.

Sunshine broke briefly through the clouds as Saul Friedman’s casket was lowered into the earth. There was something pathetic about how small it looked, and your heart wrenched at the sight. Debora’s silent tears prompted your own but you sniffled, looking up, not allowing them to escape. “Shalom aba” you mumbled as you placed a small stone on the mound of soil that now covered him…

FIN.

Series Masterlist | Next Episode

Halacha - Jewish scripture. According to the rules in order for a person to be considered Jewish their mother needs to be Jewish. (according to Orthodox Judaism) Shiva - “Seven” - a period of seven days after the funeral when the family mourns the death. People often come to visit several times during the shiva. Kriah - “Tearing” - When a next of kin dies, the nuclear family members (parents, children, siblings) have their garments torn, to symbolize mourning. The garment is discarded after the shiva. Sufganiyot - (Singular: Sufganya) - Jewish doughnuts, served on Hanukkah. Traditionally filled with jam and topped with powdered sugar.  Kaddish - A prayer said during the jewish funeral.  Shalom Aba - “Goodbye dad” 

Comments and reblogs are always appreciated.

If you'd like to be tagged in this series or in general please let me know.

[absolutepokemontrash]

Aaa congrats on 666 :D you've been one of my favorite obey me blogs since I joined the fandom! can I request the brothers with an mc that looks/acts like they just walked out of a zombie apocalypse? Turns out that while the demons werent looking, things in the human realm went down hill ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

👀 I love this! Sorry this took so long! I hope you enjoy!

Lucifer

When Solomon popped down into the Devildom earlier, Lucifer had noticed that the sorcerer looked a tad… concerned. After he left, Lucifer thought nothing of it until the second human exchange student appeared brandishing a gun and looking like they hadn’t showered in eight days.

After managing to disarm the human and avoiding the baseball bat wrapped in barbed wire, Lucifer managed to explain exactly why the human was in the Devildom and what was going on. In return, the human calmed down and explained what was going on in the human world.

…geez, shit really hit the fan. Uh… Lucifer wished them luck in their exchange year and foisted them off on Mammon. Lucifer was not about to deal with that right then.

(Apparently one of Solomon’s necromancing acquaintances had something to do with the mini apocalypse going on in the human world. Lucifer and MC were assured that the zombie problem was being dealt with)

As confused and annoyed as Lucifer was at first, he quickly became glad that the human had some kind of self defence on them. The Devildom was a dangerous place, and the human could nullify some of that danger by popping a bullet or twelve into some idiots’ heads.

But one of MC’s more annoying habits were their tendency to set traps and hoard food. They didn’t seem to grasp that lack of food wasn’t an issue and that there were plenty of spells in place to make sure-

Okay, Beel just raided the fridge. Maybe MC had the right idea. Up for sharing some spaghetti-o’s?

Mammon

Now listen here! The Great and Amazing and Mega-Sexy Mammon wasn’t scared of the human at all! Got it?! Good. He wasn’t scared of how dishevelled and dirty they were and how they looked like they just crawled out of a horror movie! Not at all! He also wasn’t scared of the baseball bat they threatened to hit him with if he continued to spout threats of eating them.

Pff, he wasn’t scared… totally not scared… *ahem*

Once the human took a bath and stopped pointing their various weapons at him, Mammon quickly began to warm up to the human in their own tsundere kind of way. Fine, he could admit that MC was kinda cool.

The one thing that Mammon just couldn’t deal with was MC’s traps… he kept setting them off while trying to get into MC’s room!

Oi! Don’t look at him like that! He wasn’t tryin’ to steal anything! He also wasn’t goin’ in there to hang out with the dumb human either! Wasn’t goin’ in there to check on em’ and make sure they were comfortable…

Mammon is also #2 in terms of food theft in the house. He just spotted ramen and decided that possibly getting hit with MC’s baseball bat of pain was worth getting his greedy little mitts on some dollar store noodles.

Leviathan

When Levi went downstairs to threaten Mammon for his money back, Levi immediately recoiled at the absolutely fowl smell coming from the human. Ew, normie stink was getting all over him! And why did they look like they just walked out of TellTale’s The Walking Dead?

Once MC explained their situation, Levi took it upon himself to mansplain the zombie apocalypse to the poor human that was going through it. He had played plenty of zombie survival games and he was surely the expert-

AAKSJAKAJANA- PUT THE BAT DOWN! HE’LL SHUT UP! HE’LL SHUT UP!

After that was over and done with, Levi decided it would be his job to reintroduce MC to some quality entertainment. There couldn’t be that many good shows to watch in the apocalypse, so MC (starved for entertainment) agreed to watch whatever Levi wanted.

Food hoarding? Been there done that. Levi keeps at least ten boxes of Pocky in his room at all times, and a crap ton of other snack foods too. That habit doesn’t phase Levi.

The traps on the other hand? HELL YES TEACH HIM MC! THAT’LL WARD OFF SOME SCUMMY MORONS! *insert Levi cackle here*

Satan

Satan was amongst the people who had the privilege of getting a gun pointed at them on the first day of the exchange program. He kept his fake little smile on his face, but he sure as hell wasn’t too pleased with the human.

He kept his distance at first, studying MC from afar and taking note of their weird little habits. Satan found it quite interesting how quickly this seemingly average human adapted to their new circumstances.

After the body switching incident and the murder train incident, Satan developed a fondness for MC. But… maybe MC shouldn’t have brought their weapons with them on one of their hangout sessions with Satan.

It was on that day that MC learned that Satan was as good a shot with a gun as they were… Rest in Pieces to the idiot that decided fucking with the Avatar of Wrath would be a good idea.

The traps… oh yes the traps… that exact skill set transferred perfectly to pranks! Oh if MC would be so kind as to let Satan teach them the way of the bastard (tm) so the two of them could annoy that pompous peacock together?

Asmodeus

Ewwwww! What was that awful stench coming from the- EWWWWW! Why was the human so gross and dirty! Someone get the hose! They summoned a feral one!

Asmo was less concerned with the fact that the human was threatening everyone with an actual weapon and more concerned with how they smelled like a month old macaroni salad.

MC got a bottle of admittedly pleasant smelling soap thrown at them before Mammon dragged them off to the HOL.

Despite the nasty first impression, once MC took a much needed bath and washed all that gross grime off of themselves… they were honestly really hot… man, apocalypses should happen more often if they produce babes like MC~ *eyebrow wiggle*

Though, the poor human still needed some work, Asmo declared himself their fairy goddaddy (I regret ever learning how to type) and took every opportunity to make sure MC looked their best and took care of themselves.

MC’s odd habits don’t exactly phase Asmo much, I mean, look at who he lives with.

Beelzebub

…he doesn’t wanna eat this human.

Listen, Beel will eat anything, but if he has other options, he’s not eating the gross dirty human pointing a gun at him.

At first, Beel’s pretty neutral towards anything and everything MC ends up doing. They barricaded themselves in their room to keep safe out of habit? Okay. They scarily polish and clean their weapons out in the middle of the living room? So does Satan on occasion. They cleared out the fridge- wait they cleared out the fridge?

BEEL WAS GOING TO DO THAT! PREPARE TO BE EATEN, HUMAN!

MC miraculously survived a hungry Beel attack by chucking food at him until he calmed back down. Beel felt a little bad for scaring them, but anyone with more than five brain cells should know not to steal food from the Avatar of Gluttony.

Anyway, once the two get closer, Beel’s always there for a hug and comfort if MC needs it. Just don’t let him near the food hoard. He will reduce it to nothing in less than an hour.

More than 90% of the traps that get set off are set off by Beel trying to get into MC’s room for food.

Belphegor

Father Dammit, Belphie wanted a nice easy defenceless human to murder, not this Rambo-lookalike. Whatever, sure the human looked tough, but Belphie’s a demon.

Well… Belphegor’s plan went to shit when he was in the middle of choking the human, who pulled out a gun and nearly shot him in the eye. He ended up dropping them in surprise when the bullet grazed his face and ended up getting MC’s boot planted into his forehead.

Yeah… Belphie did not fare well. MC: 1 Belphie: 0

After that nonsense, Belphie demanded begged that MC become his full time nap guardian. They were scary and could protect him, the totally defenceless war criminal 🥺, come on MC, don’t be heartless!

Similar to Asmo, Belphie isn’t too phased by MC’s weird habits. As long as they don’t try and steal his pillows, he’s okay. Those traps though… perfect for a certain older brother of his…

He joins in on Satan’s crusade to get MC to join the Anti Lucifer League. Puh-LEEEEEEEAAAAAASE MC?

[abbatoirablaze]

5 Alphas--Autumn

Just a little drabble on how Autumn had followed the boys around before they were really aware of it. Can be read separately from the Fated story as its own one shot or with it. Not integral to the story.

Word Count: 1.1k

Warnings: mentions of shifter dynamics, pining after someone, stalking, slight angst.

The first time you saw him in the forest alone, you knew. You knew that you loved him. Regardless of the accident when he was feral and had killed Ari’s mother. Regardless of how his other brothers seemed to shun him. Regardless of the fact that he seemed to hate himself.

You knew that you loved the sad bear the very first day you saw him, when you were twelve years old. Granted, he was eighteen, and it’d been a long time since any of those incidents, but Joseph had told you of them without shame when you’d asked.

“That’s Curtis,” he said simply, when you had described the large alpha who could shift into a bear at will, “he’s my middle son.”

“Well tell me about him,” you asked softly as you leaned against the wood pile while he split the wood for the winter, “what is he like?”

“I think it’s best you find out for yourself so that you can find out what my sons are like and form your own opinions.”

You were saddened to figure out that Joseph wasn’t going to answer you. But you were even sadder when you had learned about the others. None of them were like him. Curtis was your one and only…a one and a million man.

Ari, a selkie who had a cabin a little further down from Joseph, around the bend of the lake, was twenty-one when you first saw him. You had figured that if you were going to learn about the brothers, you were going to start at the beginning. By doing so, you had found the lonely, mild-mannered selkie had taken over the parental role of his younger brother Jake, a sweet, but awkward alpha wolf who got more rejections than a solicitor.

And while there was nothing wrong in particular with the eldest of Joseph’s sons, you didn’t particular care for the fact that he was so compassionate towards everyone except for Curtis. And the younger brother, well, he was a few fries short of a happy meal. With every rejection he seemed to get desperate, needier, and it wasn’t long before even you could smell the desperation in his scent, and the rage behind his eyes.

Finding Stevie was a little bit harder.

You had to shift to make it look like you were around their age as you spotted him sitting at a bar-stool. You could tell from his scent that he was about to go into a rut. And he had a long line of women that appeared to want to be his rut kitten. But when you followed back to his place, it always sounded like there was an argument going on, and before the night was out, you would see Stevie sadly chasing the girl to the door, begging her to stay.

It made you feel even worse for the youngest, a dragon shifter by the name of Johnny. He was thirteen and newly presented as an alpha. Stevie had taken guardianship of him a few years ago around the same time Ari had taken Jake, and Stevie was smart to keep the young, perverted teen on suppressants.

And then there was Curtis. Your sweet, sad bear, who had built his own cabin deep in the heart of the mountain, close enough to a cave he liked to go to when he needed to get away from it all as a teenager.

“Hear about how the kid let two of his brothers move in with him?”

Your head shot up as you listened in to the other lumberjacks talking about Curtis. The second man shook his head, “somethin’ bout their place burning down. His oldest brother and one of the younger ones…he hasn’t been getting much sleep though…been slowin down on the job too. Jack’s gonna kick his ass if he doesn’t get into gear.”

You were quick to jump around to some of the other trees. You hadn’t particularly spent any time following Curtis the past few days, but you did know about the fire at Ari’s place. You didn’t know that Curtis had let them move in though.

You sighed when you found your sweet bear. He was sitting, more like leaning back against one of the trees, his hat covering his eyes, as a light snore drifted past his lips. You sighed, daring to bring yourself closer to him.

Coming down from your tree, you made sure that no one else was near. Taking a few steps, you brought your head down to see below the visor of his hat. He was exhausted. The dark circles under his eyes saddened you.

“Oh, Curtis.” you whispered sadly, feeling brave enough to stroke his cheek. He was warm and soft. Softer than you thought he’d be. The twenty year old was taking advantage of his lunch break, and instead of eating what was in his lunchbox, he’d fallen asleep with his sandwich falling out of his hand. Your hand stroked lower, the prickly beard scratchy against your soft, small hands. But just as you leaned in, curious about how his lips would feel, he shifted in his sleep.

Your eyes went wide as you bolted back into the trees. His cap fell from it’s precarious position as you moved deeper against the trunk of the tree, blending in with it. You stifled your laughter as his sandwich fell to the ground and he looked around wildly.

And you watched with sad eyes as he disappeared, going back towards the rest of the lumberjacks.

“He’s pretty,” a sweet voice from beside you said. You looked to see Rain, still wet from her swim in the river about a mile away. You frowned at her, “he’s taller than the rest of them.”

“He’s mine, Rain,” you warned her softly, “don’t even think about it.”

“Okay, ”she replied peppier than normal, “I won’t touch him if you come with me. Joseph wanted to see you today.”

You gave the lumberjack yard one more wistful look, wishing you could sit in the trees and watch him all day. But if Rain was willing to let you have him, you’d be willing to deal with Joseph for a little while, “fine.”

She smiled as the two of you climbed down from the trees, heading off towards the cabin. And then you noticed an ugly red burn along the inside of her wrist. She noticed you staring, “staring is rude.”

“What is it?”

“Joseph told me it’s a gift,” she replied happily, “and if you’re good, maybe you’ll get one too.”

“I don’t want one…”

“Oh well.”

[somebodyssherlock-heterodyne]

Another Fucking Fix-It AU Because Canon Couldn't Give Them a Break

So my friend- the same one I was DMing when feral time traveler Lan Xichen popped into my head- who introduced me to this series said “you’re not gonna be able to think about anything else” and fuck you @adoni-pike1261​ for being right.

Now *cracks knuckles* I’m actually going to be writing a corresponding fic for this, but it’s still fair game, I love seeing other people’s interpretations of my work be it other fics, fanart, memes, anything.

Thusly I present: Ghost Wei Wuxian AU.

Wei Wuxian dies.

Wei Wuxian comes back as an extremely powerful ghost, haunting- of all people- Jin Ling.

AU under the cut

So Jin Ling grows up with his cool ghost friend Wei Ying! Wei Ying is really cool, and super powerful, and knows all sorts of stuff about monsters and talismans and cultivation, and sometimes he just invents things on the spot. For fun. He's the coolest. And he's sticking around because Jin Ling's mother told him to.

He knew her. And his father. He knew them both.

Wei Wuxian swore an oath to his dying sister to keep her son safe, and this is how he keeps it; reminding the kid to eat, and sleep, and take it easy on himself. He plays translator for Jiang Cheng and teaches A-Ling everything he wants the kid to know.

Jin Ling loves Wei Ying. He messes with Jiujiu's hair if he's not paying attention to him, and he says Jin Ling is a Jiang and that means he can do anything. He tells him to live for justice and to love as much as he possibly can.

Jin Ling tells people he loves them. Wei Ying is his godfather, he named him (Jiujiu never told him that) and Wei Ying says to him one bright summer day to tell people if he loves them. You won't have the chance to do that one day, and one day might be tomorrow, so take that chance while you have it.

So Jin Ling tells everyone he loves that he loves them. He still grows up maladjusted and moody and angry but for this one thing that Jiang Cheng for the life of him cannot figure out. Whenever they part, Jin Ling's last words to him are always I love you.

Wei Ying gets sad sometimes, but not like Jiujiu gets sad. Jiujiu gets sad and hides with anger- Wei Ying gets sad and hides it with happy, or just plain hides. Wei Ying says Jiujiu is grieving, he hasn't moved on from his sister, and privately Jin Ling thinks Wei Ying must not have either.

Wei Ying is his godfather, his favorite teacher in the whole wide world, his ghost friend who promised his mother he would keep Jin Ling safe.

Wei Wuxian. Wei Wuxian is the Yiling Patriarch. Wei Wuxian killed his parents, raised the dead, bringer of hell and master of puppets and in a realm of nothing but evil Wei Wuxian reigns king.

Jin Ling doesn't actually remember what did it, in the end. Which idle remark lined up too perfectly with history lessons, or who said some random little fact, but in the end he's twelve when he realizes that Wuxian was a courtesy name and Wei Ying looks exactly like him.

This is how Jin Ling learns that the man who's saved his life too many times to count (and he always ran when his godfather asked, he never wondered how he got rid of so many monsters-) is the same man who destroyed it in the first place.

He wants to hate him. He tries to hate him.

He can't. The Jiangs say attempt the impossible- not achieve it. He attempted it. He failed.

Wei Wuxian is Wei Ying, and Wei Wuxian is suddenly, uncomfortably human. He lost everything, and he lost everything first, before anyone else lost everything to him.

Wei Wuxian is the only person who tells stories about Jin Ling's parents. He never forgave himself, he never moved on, but still Jin Ling remembers his ghost plastering on a smile and telling him about how his mother fished Jiujiu out of a river.

Jin Ling turns thirteen and starts asking his godfather about the Sunshot Campaign, and what the hell even happened to set it off anyways. Wei Wuxian tells him amidst archery practice, and Jin Ling is fifteen years old when Wei Wuxian smiles- a real smile, a proud smile, tinged with nothing but that pride, no sadness, no melancholy- and tells him he just surpassed his father and Wei Wuxian both.

Jin Ling is sixteen when Wei Wuxian vanishes, and he is still sixteen when he finds him again and meets Wen Ning who was set up but is still kind of the guy who killed his dad (it's a mess) and then Jiujiu asks him who his new friend is, and Jin Ling answers truthfully.

"He's my favorite teacher and he's saved my life too many times to count."

Then the mask comes off and there's a lot of shouting. Like. A lot of shouting. Then it turns out that Wei Wuxian and Hanguang-jun are a two pack, and Jin Ling gains an uncle, a couch to crash on when his family is being his family, and the ability to spend way too much time at Cloud Recesses with Sizhui and Jingyi.

Sizhui who is Wen Yuan.

...

Eh. Wen Ning is cool. He's glad Sizhui has a cool uncle to offset his disaster dads.

[oswald-privileges]

ALL RIGHT BUT YOU ASKED FOR IT

Power of Three as a series is just. full of weaknesses, most of which come down to poor continuity and structure. I'm not gonna try and fix ALL of those, bc that'd be laborious as hell, but I will pick out things that I feel are the most egregious as case studies.

What Po3 does have, tho, is an absolutely shining strength in the concept of its three main characters. After twelve books of Blandly Heroic Protagonist Syndrome, Jayfeather is an absolute godsend. He's angry! He's rude! He's unhappy! He's not nice. I Love Him And He's My Son. Lionblaze has his invincible pride (hah) and emergent bloodlust, and Hollyleaf has her moral absolutism and certainty. These are good starting points for characters. Sadly, the lack of continuity undermines what could have been three really good character arcs.

So! I present to you:

HOW TO MAKE "WARRIORS: THE POWER OF THREE" NOT COMPLETELY SUCK ACCORDING TO MY PERSONAL TASTE; A NON-EXHAUSTIVE, NON-CONSECUTIVE LIST BY ME

ONE

- Have there be a persistant, overarching series threat. Sol is a character with amazing villain potential who does literally nothing except hang around, and do exactly 2 Bad Things completely off-screen. This Is Not Good.

- Instead, have him be present from the second book onwards- initially introduced as a friendly but enigmatic outsider who is slowly revealed across the series to be a complete black hole of a personality, a social parasite quietly rearranging whatever community he's a part of to just-so-happen to benefit him as much as humanly possible. His "preach individualism not starclan" methods are not so much values as one strategy out of many. (to those who know me- yes i have a type. no i will not apologise.)

- Maybe his ultimate goal is to dissolve and centralise the clans or something so that he can live out his life as a political puppetmaster in all the cat-luxury he likes. idk it's hard to imagine overall stakes for this rewrite BECAUSE THE ORIGINAL DOESN'T HAVE ANY

TWO

- For gods sake you don't have a series based on the premise of "the main characters develop super powers" and then only have the second power confirmed by the end of the fourth book. I understand the first book mostly focusing on Jayfeather- his powers are obvious from the start, he's got the strongest personality of the three, he gets access to most of the prophecy plot stuff because of them. But you NEED to have the other two show an interest in something concrete happening to them beyond that, and you need to at least hint towards the other two having something unique to them even if nobody clocks it yet.

- Have Jayfeather tell his siblings about the prophecy by the end of book two at the latest. The amount of time he spends noodling around not sharing it with them is inexcusable. It's not that it's out of character for him to hang onto a secret for a bit, it's just that there's no point and it slows everything down. It would be equally in character for him to go to his siblings and be like "look, i'm SPECIAL. well you as well but ALSO ME". Boy starts off as desperate for recognition, what can I say

THREE

- Have Jayfeather discover that StarClan don't withhold signs or information on purpose for the sake of "building courage and faith" or whatever nonsense. Seeing and communicating the future is metaphysically very difficult, so interpreting signs and messages is a genuine skill, or even an art. The cats of StarClan, however, really are just ghosts, much more similar to living cats than the currently living believe. This is the impotus for Jayfeather's discarding of his reverence for StarClan, which remains consistent throughout the series.

- Have Hollyleaf and Jayfeather both still change their cat careers in the first book, but put place more attention on the fact that they basically switched jobs. Have a scene where they end up yelling at each other, because can't the other see how lucky they have it? The tension breaks when they realise they've both lost something important to them- Jayfeather his chance to prove he's as capable as a sighted cat, and Hollyleaf her path to helping her clan in the way she thinks is best. They commiserate together, and reluctantly promise to do the best they can with their lots, so they don't waste the path the other wishes they'd taken. This closeness is eroded over the series as they disagree more and more on the subject of StarClan and its role in their moral choices and obligations.

FOUR

- Speaking of Hollyleaf! I nearly threw my phone across the room when the first Omen of the Stars book claimed that Hollyleaf "worked so hard to discover her power to help her clan". Where, Ms Erins??? I would have LOVED to have seen that!! Hollyleaf expresses absolutely no concern over the details of what power she has/will develop, and only has a couple of scenes even touching on her ambitions to help her clan. She has some vague ideas about becoming leader and like one scene where she gets to do some leadery things, but that never gets followed up on. What does happen is that the whole "warrior code" thing becomes more and more a part of her personality (for no clear reason) until she snaps.

- Hollyleaf going off the deep end is something I wanted so badly to get into and be moved by, because I could see where it comes from! Her moral certainty is fascinating, especially since it's based in something as abstract as the warrior code- which, when you think about it, isn't really... anything. There's no concrete set of rules that make it up, no traditional wording or cat philosophers, not even any fables. It's a handful of agreed-upon, common sense rules- don't cross boundaries, don't take prey that isn't yours, respect your ancestors, and don't murder. That's it!

- So, combining the above points, I think Hollyleaf not being one of the Three should stay, but both the audience and the characters are given good reason to believe she is. By around the third volume, make it so that Hollyleaf has found that her power is to get cats to "Do The Right Thing"- i.e. what she wants them to do. She sneaks off often to see Sol, who teachs her how to use this power. Her siblings are concerned about this new power, having already gotten a glimpse at what Sol can do, but she's confident that she can only use this power for good. Volume-specific plot happens, Sol manipulates her into causing him to win, she is shocked and horrified, and vows to stick ridgedly to what she knows is right i.e. The Warrior Code

- However, the more fervently she tries to stick to this abstract idea, the less it gives her results, the more her power seems to be failing. Believing that StarClan is taking her power away from her, she becomes caught up in a faith-guilt spiral that puts her in the position to snap at the end of the series. By that point it's clear to her siblings that Hollyleaf has no power- she was just very, very good at persuading people to do what she wanted.

FIVE

- Lionblaze is a girl now because I Said So. This Cat Is Trans And There's Nothing You Can Do About It.

- Her relationship with Heathertail stays the same- childhood sweethearts who are torn apart as they begin to understand the nature of the societal divides that exist between them.

- This can be used to contextualise the whole "half clan/outsider blood" thing as a cultural contradiction. In reality, inter- and outer- clan relationships aren't at all rare. They can't be, otherwise the whole society would be inbred out of existence in like five generations. But if at least one society of humans can spend a good 200 years pretending Sex Is Bad And Sinful Actually then cats can have persistant cat-racism in the face of all logic. Heathertail clocks this contradiction, Lionblaze doesn't.

- Her relationship-to-power arc doesn't need changing all that much either, other than starting much sooner and being more consistent. At first, she's completely overjoyed by her power, since unlike her siblings, it lines up so well with her ambition- become the finest warrior any of the clans have to offer. As the berserker rage aspect becomes more prevelent, she becomes more and more disturbed by the fact that she isn't disturbed by what she can do, and that she doesn't want the escalation of her power to stop.

- Tigerstar still does his thing, but Brambleclaw knows about it. He recognises the signs from when his father used to visit him, and tries to train Lionblaze in his own way. She ends up caught between wanting to be a good warrior, and testing the limits of her power.

SIX

- Jayfeather can stay basically the same because he's my perfect little angy boy and nothing needs to change. His arcs can be strengthened by having a more robust relationship with Yellowfang where they try to out-bitch each other, and coming to terms with his internalised ablism. Maybe he has a chat with Mothwing about faith a couple of times. Him furiously lashing out at being offered help transitions into an acceptence and understanding of his abilities more naturally. He never stops being A Grumpy Old Man.

- All fucking past-lives unexplained time travel goes in the BIN. Doesn't fucking happen. You can have that lore dump sprinkled across the books, or come from going deep into the tunnels and having a surreal meeting. Make it properly eldritch-level scary, shake Jayfeather's confidence in the idea of them being just a bunch of ghosts.

SEVEN

- Have the way Brambleclaw and Squirrelflight present very clearly as parents to the Three be explicitly, textually unusual. One of the things I liked so much about the first series was an almost total lack of emphasis on who was mated with who, and who was related or not. It felt very real to how feral cat colonies form, where raising kittens is a communal job. This gets completely dropped the moment series 2 starts and now the cats have monogamy.

- This emphasis on the family unit and fostering close relationships between parents and kittens is deliberate on the part of both Leafpool and Squirrelflight. Their aim is to cover for Leafpool so she doesn't lose her role as medicine cat- something she already gave up Crowfeather for before she was pregnant.

- In that little bit of backstory, have a robust reason for both Leafpool and Squirrelflight to leave the camp while Leafpool is pregnant and giving birth, possibly one that ties into the present day story in some minor way. I don't know how, it would just make that element of the story a lot more ground than "we left, the kits were born, then we came back and everyone was cool with it"

- When it comes to the "I am Not your mother" reveal, Jayfeather and Lionblaze are confused and hurt that they were lied to, but come to the reasonable conclusion that well, since they were raised mostly by Squirrelflight, saw Leafpool often, and are loved by both, they don't hate her. Lionblaze has something of a crisis over being half-clan, possibly initiating an attempted reunion with Heathertail. Jayfeather is more concerned with how other cats will think it makes him lesser, something he's still sensitive too.

- Hollyleaf, meanwhile, completely fucking snaps at the way her mother Violated Part Of The Code. It's a completely irrational reaction, but expected because she's been growing more and more reliant on The Code for the whole series, and less and less stable in her attempts to aid her clan and train to be its new leader.

- Squirrelflight is the one to murder Ashfur. This is easy to work out while reading- she's literally the only one of the four with a motive who isn't a perspective character. The mystery is less around finding out who did it, and more about why she did it (it's very ambiguous as to whether it was an accident or not). The main tension comes from who finds out when.

- Lionblaze is shocked, awed by how far she'd go to protect the three of them, and reassures her she did the right thing (as a way to salve her own uncertainty over her own longing for violence). Jayfeather makes it all about himself because he's Jayfeather- upset that he didn't know immediately, instead of, you know, figuring it out in a few hours because he can basically read minds. They try their best to hide it from Hollyleaf, who is already rattling around the final volume as a full-on antagonist, but are unsuccessful. This almost costs them something incredibly important- possibly Squirrelflight's life.

EIGHT

- the whole plot with the Tribe Of Rushing Water is a MASSIVE can of worms that could be removed from the series without issue. As it is:

- Characterize the Tribe as uncertain of how to fight other cats, because yes, they haven't had to do this before. DON'T characterise them as pathetic, doing whatever their leader says without thinking, and with ancestors who have Given Up

- Have some of the Tribe be really good at the violence. Worryingly good. Have others be sickened by what they're being asked to do.

- Have some of the clan cats reflect on what they've done. Hollyleaf would be all for introducing this society to jesus The Code, but even she might be horrified at being thanked by a tribe cat who can't wait to get out there and win themselves glory, only to be killed a few hours later

- The Tribe begin a new tradition of marking the walls in the mud they use as camoflage in order to commemorate their battles, and memorialise the fallen. One of the characters reflects on the fact that in a generation or two, the Tribe will feel like it's always been this way. How many of their own traditions- those that feel almost like natural law- started out the same way?

- Have Sol as the leader of the invaders, or maybe having insinuated himself into the tribe as a "mediator" and doing his charismatic cult leader thing.

NINE

- Cinderheart isn't a reincarnation of Cinderpelt. She's just named after her bc Cinderpelt saved her mother from a badger. this is because I think the reincanation thing is stupid and I can't think of a way to make it good.

TEN

- No more using tails as hand gestures like covering people's mouths. Never. None of it. It's expunged from existence.

Disclaimer: I haven't read Omen of the Stars yet, so I can't account for anything that might happen in that series that's grounded in Po3. I'm like... two thirds of the way through the first volume. I'm Not Impressed.

[jawritter]

Unlikely Places

Request: Hi! I love your work! Can you do a ABO? One where the reader is Beta, and Dean Alpha, and she’s his true mate/soulmate, but they don’t know it, and he gets possessive and goes into almost a feral rut where he tries to claim, and it almost kills her but Sam and Rowena save her and give Dean his Omega back? You come up with the plot because you’re amazing at that!! Please! I’d be forever in your debt!

A/N: This is the first time i have ever written ABO in the context. So please take it easy of me if some of the information isn’t isn’t normal ABO dynamic, or isn’t necessarily something seen in specific AU’s before! This is not a series, just a one shot! As always feedback is golden. I’m not gonna lie, I’m a little nervous about posting this one. It’s the most “Non-Con” I have ever written, and it took me weeks to get this written out in a way that I thought might be acceptable. I hope you all enjoy this one!

This one was Beta’d by @squirrelnotsam! Thanks so much hun! <3

Please heed the warnings on this Fic!! Warnings: (((TRIGGER WARNING!! This fic contains Non-Con, borderline rape implications! Please take caution when reading this if something like this affects you! ))) 

Other Warnings: Smut, almost non-con, angst, possessive Alpha, ABO Dynamics, knotting, forced claiming, forced knotting rut, almost feral Alpha, true mates, soul mates, knotting, mentions of first heat, language, scenting, non consensual scenting, disturbing Alpha behavior. Aggression, Pain, scared reader, Dean can be pretty scary in this one. Massive age gap! 19 year old reader x 41 year old Dean! Mention of parental death of reader’s parents. Language I’m sure because it’s me. 

Word count: 5244

Want More? Check Out My Masterlist!!

***MASTERLIST***

“That will be $8.97,” you tell the woman standing in front of you. She pays you for her purchase, and you hand her bag to her as the door opens and closes with a dinging chime. 

Your eyes train to the large Alpha male that just walked into the filling station you were working at in Lebanon, Kansas. The Omega you were just checking out wasted no time in straightening her blouse by pulling it down lower, and making quite the show of herself as the Alpha grabbed a basket near the door, and lumbered his way over to the beer cooler, not even giving her a second look.

You had to suppress the snort as the Omega harshly grabbed the bag from the counter where she’d laid it when the Alpha had walked in the door, and made her way quickly towards the exit, leaving you alone with the Alpha as he made his way around the store, filling his little basket with things he usually buys every time he came in. 

Pie, beer, jerkies of different types, sometimes toilet paper, the odd Playboy as well as the next copy of Busty Asian Beauty, lube.

You weren’t worried about being left alone in the small store with the rather large and very attractive Alpha. It’s not like it was the first time he’d ever been there, and it wasn’t like he would have any interest in you, a beta. 

By law, you weren’t even allowed to speak to him unless he spoke to you first. Betas were considered even lower than Omegas and weren’t allowed to address an Alpha directly. You had to choose your words wisely when it comes to Omegas too, but they weren’t nearly as hard about that law as they were with the Alphas. 

You watched quietly from behind the counter as the Alpha picked up the newest porn magazine from the rack and placed it in his basket after thumbing through a few pages. 

You wondered if the Alpha lived alone. He carried himself like a bachelor, you never saw him with an Omega, nor had he expressed any interest in any Omega that was in the store the same time he was, male or female. Maybe something was wrong with him physically that prevented him from having those hormone-driven urges that seemed to rule the Alpha and Omega community? 

Whatever the reason, the Alpha seemed to be almost done with his shopping, so he made his way over the counter with his basket, setting it down before finally looking up at you, giving you a tight smile before grabbing a few candy bars and adding them to his pile of stuff. 

You returned his smile with a little more enthusiasm than what was probably necessary, but you couldn’t help it. Alpha or not, the man was sex on two bowed legs, and you weren’t dead. 

Instead of speaking, when you had his total, you turned the screen to him so that he could read his total. This was your usual routine with the Alphas that came in the store; it was just safer.  

His piercing green eyes seemed to burn a little as he tilted his head to the side and looked at you, or as much of you as he could see through the counter. Something in his stare made you want to blush; even though Alphas and Betas were not compatible physically, you felt like he was sizing you up. You had no scent strong enough that he would be attracted to, and you weren’t anatomically able to take his knot, which from what you understand was necessary to fulfill his needs. 

You were 19 years old. If you were going to be anything other than a Beta by now you were positive you would have presented. You still had not, so the Alpha staring at you made you literally take a step back away from the counter, your heart rate spiking as hungry eyes watched you curiously, like he was noticing you for the first time even though you’d rang up his items a thousand times before. 

“What’s your name?” he grunts, and his baritone voice sends a shiver down your spine, landing somewhere deep in your stomach, making it do a flip of sorts. 

“Y/N,” you answer shortly, utterly unaccustomed to talking to Alphas. There was no one Alpha that you could recall that had ever spoken to you, and you had been working at this filling station since you were 16.

Your parents were killed by a demon when you were very small, and you were delivered to an Omega compound when you were only 12 by the man that saved your life. It was assumed you would present as an Omega because you came from what they all called a “pure” bloodline.  

Much to the community leaders disappointment you never presented. So they kicked you out on your ass to fend for yourself, and you were lucky to have landed this job, and the Omega owner let you sleep in the back part of the storehouse. 

Finding a place to live on your own as a beta, and at such a young one was virtually impossible, and you would have been dead by now if it wasn’t for her. You never told her about your past, and you never intended to, after all, who else in this twisted world would believe in demons.

The green-eyed Alpha leaned forward slightly, breathing in deeply, his nostrils flaring as he attempted to scent you from a distance, and you put your finger on the panic button just under the cigarette counter you were leaning against, ready to push it if he tried to cross the counter. Sure, you would probably be dead before the cops got there, but at least they would be able to find the security footage and maybe track him down. 

You didn’t know what triggered this behavior from him, he’d never done anything like this before, and you wondered if he had just scented the Omega that was previously here, and just thought it was you.

The Alpha placed a large hand on the counter, about to start making his way around it when the door dinged again, and a skinny Beta man you thought you’d never see again entered the store. 

“Dean! There you are? What’s taking so long buddy? Sam’s ready to get back to his Omega?” he said as he approached the green-eyed Alpha you now knew was named “Dean”, smiling as he noticed you standing behind the counter.

“Y/N? Little Y/N Y/L/N is that you?” he asked as he shoved the large Alpha aside, and leaned against the counter to talk to you. Earning himself a very disgruntled look from the Alpha and the Beta’s boldness. 

“Hey Garth, it’s been a while,” you said, smiling at him warmly. You had met Garth years ago when he showed up to the Omega community you were living at not long after you’d been dumped there, taking a few Omegas there for safety after he wrapped up a hunt in Salt Lake City. 

“No kidding! Look at you all grown up. What are you doing here?” he asked, totally ignoring Dean as his eyes narrowed, looking swiftly between yourself and Garth as if he was annoyed that he was missing something.

“Well, I never presented, so they marked me down as Beta when I was sixteen, I’ve been living and working here ever since. What are you doing here? There’s not another Demon around is there?” you asked, and before Garth could answer, Dean spoke up directly to Garth, who, for some reason, seemed completely unfazed by the large, and brooding Alpha leering at him.

“Wait a minute, what’s going on here? She knows about the life?” Dean said, pointing at you as if you were a piece of furniture, and you weren’t standing there at all. Typical Alpha male behavior, but you knew better than to call him out on it. 

“Yeah! A group of hunters saved her from a particularly nasty Demon when she wasn't but twelve, and dropped her off at the hunting Omega compound. Looks like that didn’t work out though.” Garth said, giving you an apologetic look. 

Dean turned his gaze to you, that same hungry look burning just below the surface as he took you in from head to toe. A deep growl low in his chest that made Garth burst into laughter, and you look at Garth as if he had finally lost his damn mind. 

“Just ignore Dean, he’s an old Alpha who’s on the edge of a rut for the first time in too long. His brother and his Omega just moved into their bunker up the road here, and it’s triggered his hormones again.” Garth said with an eye roll, totally ignoring Dean as his eyes widened, and he looked at Garth like he could rip his throat out with his teeth for divulging that little bit of information. 

“Come on Dean; we need to go, Sam’s gonna kill you if you wait any longer,” Garth said, grabbing the card from Dean’s pocket and throwing it on the counter for you to ring up his stuff. You quickly bagged his items, handed them to the Alpha along with his credit card as Garth blubbered on about something you weren’t even really listening to, doing all you could to ignore the burning, tingling feeling that the Alpha’s skin left on yours as your hand touched his. 

The rest of the day progressed much as every day would. You could have sworn you saw that black Impala he was driving when you closed up that night, but you thought you must be imagining things, and locked the door before making your way to your makeshift bedroom in the back of the warehouse. Falling into an uneasy sleep, that seemed to be haunted by green eyes. 

The next morning you trudged your way over to the front door to open up for the day, still rubbing your eyes and yawning widely. You didn’t see Dean until he pushed the door open almost on top of you before you could step back as if he was waiting on the door to open. You stumbled back out of his way in surprise, fully awake now. Dean said nothing, just came very close to you, scenting the air around you before tilting his head to look at you curiously. 

You didn’t speak, you didn’t move, hell you were too afraid to do anything but stand there holding on the counter next to the coffee pots. 

Leaning over your shoulder, Dean brushes his body against your own as he reaches behind you, and grabs a coffee cup, filling it with black coffee all while keeping you virtually pinned to the counter. His body moving over your much smaller frame made an involuntary shiver roll through your body as he pulled away from you, and made his way over to one of the small booth seats next to the window before making himself comfortable there. His green eyes followed your every move as you quickly made your way to hide behind the counter. 

Your entire body was shaking as you tried to get a grip on yourself, as well as your imagination that was running wild in your head. It was effectively putting all kinds of thoughts that shouldn’t be there, thoughts that were not only so far fetched they were laughable, but thoughts of Dean’s hands on your skin, thoughts of Dean’s powerful body moving above yours in a way that made you almost whimper. 

Shaking yourself,  you continue about your day, choosing to ignore the large Alpha once you have calmed down enough to move from behind the counter. Dean never left his booth except to go to the bathroom. He stayed there literally all day long, just watching your every move. Never speaking to you, never getting close to you again, just watching. When you closed that night, you had to finally speak directly to him, to get him out of there, even though you knew you weren’t supposed to address him without being addressed first. 

“Dean, I’m closing, you have to leave,” you tell him in a voice you hope sounded more confident than you felt. Dean said nothing, his green eyes racking over your body before he stands and leaves without so much as a word, and you lock the door quickly behind him.

The next week went on much of the same. Dean would be there as soon as the door unlocked. Thankfully you had learned to move when you opened the door. He’d take his seat in the booth after scenting you, then would stay there until you made him leave, just watching you. 

You knew Alphas could become possessive of Betas, it was rare, but it did happen. You also knew that possessive Alpha’s could be dangerous, and had the tendency to be violent towards the Betas they have become possessive over, or they could become brutal to people around them in general. 

Dean was an older Alpha. If you had to guess, he was in his early 40’s and unmated. Things like this happened when Alphas went unmated for too long. 

You tried to text Garth, but he didn’t answer, he was probably on a case somewhere. You knew Garth said that he was about to go into rut, and with Dean’s behavior as of late, you hoped that Garth was just joking. Cause a rut could mean he’d try and hurt you. 

The next day you didn’t see Dean all day long. You thought maybe he found something else to be focused on or obsessed with. That or Garth got your text, and alerted this Sam they were talking about to Dean’s strange behavior. Part of you was relieved, and part of you was disappointed. Sure, you knew you and Dean could never be a thing, and staring aside, he did make you feel a little safer when he was around, and he definitely made you blush every time he looked at you like he wanted to touch you. 

Three more days passed without Dean making an appearance, and you had all but gave up on ever seeing Dean again. You check to make sure everything is off before trudging your way towards the little bedroom you had made for yourself. Your mind on Dean, and not really on your surroundings, you almost miss the large man standing in your room when you turned your light off, almost, a possessive growl let you know you weren’t alone pretty quickly. 

The hair stood up on the back of your neck as you turned slowly to find Dean, standing in the middle of your room with nothing but a low hanging pair of sweats that were doing very little to hide his thick length that was straining against the fabric. 

Your core clenched around nothing, and a shiver ran through your body as you took in the Alpha, his broad shoulders and strong chest on full display as it rose and fell rapidly with each quickened breath, sweat prickling his skin as he stood in the dim light. His tattoo shines boldly on his chest,  you knew of as an anti possession tattoo from your time at the compound. You backed up and he took a step towards you, a deep purring coming from him as his lust blown eyes scanned your body. 

“Dean, you need to leave,” you tell him, knowing full well that wasn’t going to happen. He was in rut, and you were the object he’d chosen to fixate on, and now you were pretty sure he was going to kill you.

Dean, back you slowly towards your bed, growling low in his throat as his body came down over yours as you fell onto your bed. He was nuzzling his face deep in your neck, scenting you and purring as his teeth ran over your throat. 

“Dean, you need to stop, I’m not an Omega. We can’t do this, you will hurt me,” you beg him even though your body was screaming for the Alpha hovering over you, now nipping at the skin of your hroat.  

“Not an Omega, still mine. You want me, I can smell it,” he said as he ripped your shirt from your body as if the materially wasn’t made of anything at all. The cold air hitting your skin made you gasp, large hands roaming all the free skin as his mouth claimed yours dominating you easily. His tongue sliding over yours as his huge hands pulled your shorts and underwear from your body. He threw them to the floor before he discarded his own sweats. 

“Dean, think about this, I can’t take your knot, this isn’t going to do anything but frustrate you further,” you attempt to make him see reason, even though your body was arching into him as if he couldn’t get close enough, his thick cock sliding through your dripping folds, gathering as much of your slick as he could. Purring and licking at your throat as he did so.

Dean was huge, you had heard that Alphas were large, but Dean was so big that you weren’t sure he’d get in all the way. You’d only ever been with Betas before, and you were convinced that he was twice the size of any of them without his knot.

“Mine,” Dean growled against your skin as he pushed into you, fully seating himself inside of you in one thrust, surprising you. The stretching was almost painful: you had never felt so full in all of your life. Dean’s mouth fell open in an inhuman growl as his lips latched around your nipple, sucking and biting as his hips began to snap into yours. He pulled himself almost all the way out before fully penetrating you again. Each powerful thrust on the edge of pure bliss and too much. 

You were almost sure that you could practically scent him as he continued to pound himself into your body, over and over again hitting that stop deep down inside of you that no one had ever been able to reach before. Purrs and growls falling from his lips as teeth repeatedly grazed the same spot on your neck. You could feel the coil tightening in your stomach with each powerful thrust, and before long, you were coming undone around him. Dean continued to fuck you through it. Groaning and sucking a mark onto your shoulder as spots appeared before your vision. 

Your head lulled back as you came down from your high. Dean’s body continued to slam into your own. 

That’s when you felt it, the stinging pain that was the beginnings of his knot. You knew he was about to split you open, and you did everything you could to get him off of you, scratching, and biting seemed to only push him on. Possessive growls left his lips with each thrust into your abused heat.

“Dean, please stop, I can’t,” you begged him as you felt his knot start to swell further, and pain began to radiate through your body. Dean was too far gone, an animalistic look on his face as he quickened his pace. 

You screamed as his knot popped, locking the two of you together as he came, his teeth sank deep into the skin of your throat as your mouth fell open in a scream that never came out. Your vision goes black as indescribable pain radiated through your body. The last thing you remember was Dean purring above you as everything faded to black.

Time seemed to be moving at a strange pace after that. You would get flashes of what you only assumed could be reality because of the blinding pain radiating through our body. You could have sworn you heard Dean apologizing to you between whining noises as he carried you somewhere. Then there was the sound of the Impala starting, after that, you didn't know much. Except for pain, you knew pain because it felt like it was burning through every fiber of your being. 

When you woke up again, the pain was gone, but the first thing you saw was fiery red hair, making you jump, which caused pain to shoot through your body again.

“Easy there, dear, you’ve been through a lot; let’s not move around too quickly,” her thick accent and motherly voice seemed soothing to you, and you slowly tried to calm your breathing.

“Where am I? Who are you?” you asked, eyes shooting around the room that looked like an old infirmary. 

“You’re in the Men of Letters Bunker. Poor Dean brought you here after he almost killed you.” 

Your heart rate spiked up at the thought of Dean. You didn’t know if you were afraid of him, or more anxious to see him again. The whining sound he was making as he carried you to his car was still so clear in your ears, and even though he did this to you, something in you told you that he didn’t mean to do it. That he wasn’t in control, he would have never hurt you of his own free will. If so, he wouldn’t have brought you here, but instead left you there to die. 

“Where is Dean?” you asked her as she fussed over your neck bandages where Dean had bitten you. 

“He’s locked in his room until he is out of his rut, not by choice mind you, he’s not happy about being kept away from you. He should be out of it by the end of the day. Last I checked on him, and he will be happy to hear you're awake, the name’s Rowena by the way, “ she said as she walked over to the old book sitting at a table in the corner of the room. 

You watched as the older Omega woman flipped through the old book's pages in front of her, adding ingredients to the bowl sitting on the table next to her.

“Why did he do this to me?” you asked her just as the door opened and closed with Garth, and another very large Alpha entered the room with long brown hair.

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out. Rowena here is the best witch in the business, and if there’s a way to solve this, she can.” Garth said as he flopped down at the foot of your bed. “This is Sam, by the way, Dean’s little brother.” 

Sam nodded politely at you before making his way over to Rowena. 

“What we don’t understand is why my brother tried to claim and knot a beta. He doesn’t understand it either. All we can get out of him is that you're his mate and that he needs to see you. I'm sure you don’t want that to happen, especially after what he did to you, so we’ve locked him in his room.” Sam said, his eyes barely leaving the book.

“I’ve heard of a lot of strange things, but I’ve never heard of an Alpha trying to claim and knot a beta as if she was an Omega, and then calling her his mate,” Garth said. 

“He’s been following me around for days now, and then he just showed up and…”

You were cut off by a banging on the door, followed by a loud whining, you recognized as Dean. Rowena’s eyes flashed a purple color, and she turned to smile at everyone in the room as the incessant whining and banging continued. 

“Don’t worry, he’s not getting through that door, you should rest Dear,” she told you as the room started to get fuzzy, you were sure she was the cause of your sudden drowsiness in attempt to keep you from further agitating Dean, but you didn’t have time to respond to her before you fell back into a deep sleep. 

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

The next thing you remember is feeling warm, very warm, as if a body was pressed against yours. That’s what made your eyes snap open to see Dean’s worried gaze as he lay in the bed next to you, your body scooped up and pressed tight against his own, holding onto you as if he could protect you from all danger. 

Deep whines mixed with purrs filled the room as he nuzzled himself into you gently, scenting you deeply as if he could scent you.

“This is a Bad Idea,” Sam’s voice came from the other side of the room. He was clearly keeping his distance from the Alpha that was holding you. 

“He’s not going to hurt her, Sam,” Rowena said. Shifting very close to you, setting a bowl down next to you with strange ingredients inside. 

“I’m so sorry Y/N, I swear I would have never done that if I could have stopped, I would have, I never wanted to hurt you,” Dean mumbled, kissing your forehead gently as if you were some fragile thing. His large body all but covering your protectively as you fought against your groggy state. 

“We think we know what the problem is,” Garth said from somewhere behind Dean. “See all those years ago, that Demon must have done something to you, sort of like what Azazel did to Sam. You were an experiment. One that intended to turn Omega’s into Beta’s before they even presented. There are traces of the Omega gene in your blood. Crowley mentioned something about it a long time ago, but we didn’t know he was successful. The only explanation is that you were Dean’s true mate, and he can somehow still sense it, which is why he went almost feral and tried to claim you.” 

You could almost feel the anxiety rolling off of Dean’s body, and you instinctively nuzzled his hold, earning purrs of approval from the Alpha above you. 

“See that, she senses he’s nervous, and she’s trying to comfort him. She’s his Omega, I just got to get the spell right to fix this,” Rowena said, shuffling around in her bowl.

“So what are you all gonna do to me?” you asked as Dean tightened the covers around the both of you, pulling you deeper into him.

“We’re going to turn you into an Omega,” Sam says, handing Rowena a strange vile of something to add to her bowl. 

You look up at Dean nervously, and he places his lips softly on yours in a chaste kiss. 

“It’s gonna be okay; I wouldn’t let them do this if it was going to hurt you. They’re just gonna fix what that sick asshole did to you all those years ago.” Dean said, his deep baritone voice was comforting to you, and you could swear that you could almost feel the bond between the two of you, and you were still technically a beta. 

“Okay, dear, we’re ready,” Rowena said as she placed the bowl on the bed next to you, and you buried your face in Dean’s throat. 

You could hear her making incantations, and things first. Then a strange tingling started to stretch through your body. Scents became stronger; you could smell Dean first. His own mouth-watering musk, mixed with evergreen and gunpowder, then Sam, and Rowena.

Your skin started to heat up as Dean’s body tense above your own, purring as Rowena ended her spell. Pressing his nose to your neck he scented you deeply. 

Your body felt new, refreshed even. The soreness that was there from what Dean had done was gone, and you could feel everything Dean felt. Every emotion, every fear. It was all so overwhelming. Reaching up, you pulled the bandage away from your neck, revealing the mark Dean had left there. His claim still shines against your skin, as even though you knew he thought it would be gone.

Rowena clapped her hands behind you as Dean ran his tongue along the claiming mark on your neck, and slick started to gather at your thighs in response to your Alpha. “Well, my job here is done. Call me if you all need me, oh and enjoy, dear,” she said, patting Dean on the shoulder as she made her way to the door. Dean picked you up bridal style, making his way towards his room that would now be your room.

Not stopping until he had you laid down on his bed, lying down close to you before pulling you into him, purring as he nipped at the skin of your throat. 

“My Omega,” he purred against you, an overwhelming feeling of peace washing over you with each touch of his large, warm hand against your small frame.

“My Alpha,” you tell him, nuzzling closer to him, letting his scent wash over you in waves. 

“I thought you didn’t exist, I thought I was doomed to die alone. Then when I found you, I thought I had lost my mind. Then when I came to myself in your room… I’m so sorry, Omega, I will never hurt you again,” Dean said, his voice cracking as he pulled his clothes from his body, throwing them to the floor as you did the same. Desperate to feel your Alpha’s skin on yours. Heat roars through your veins as his body wrapped around yours, his half-hard cock resting on your thighs as he settles himself to lay between your legs. 

You place your small hand on his chest as his lips claim yours in an intoxicating kiss before rolling himself on top of you. Grinding his hips against yours, rutting his hardening length against your clit as the first wave of cramps rolls through your stomach of your first heat. Slick gushing over him as he pressed himself against your entrance, knowing what your body needed, and ready to give it to you. The foreplay could come later; right now, he just needed to be as close to you as possible.

“It’s okay Alpha. In a lot of ways, I’m so glad you found me. I was sleeping in a storage closet for fucks sakes.”

Dean growled as he entered you slowly in one smooth thrust. The amount of slick your body was creating made a smooth entrance, and he held himself still inside of you as his lips claimed yours. Your walls fluttering around his throbbing length as your body welcomed him like a missing piece that finally was in place after being lost for so long. Both of you groaned in relief as he filled you.

“Gonna take care of you Omega, no more sleeping in storage rooms. I can’t give you much, but I can give you all that I have, and I can protect you with everything in me.” 

Dean hips snap into you in a rough thrust as his instincts begin to take over, and your heat starts to take the forefront of his attention.

“I’m all yours Alpha. Always will be.”

There was a lot you still had to learn about being an Omega, and you still didn't even know your Alpha really, but you knew one thing, you were so glad he found you. Pain and all, it was worth it.

Fate always finds a way, even with everything against you. In the most unlikely places, even after you gave up hope. That’s one lesson you will never forget. 

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

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[lemonprick]

every now and then don't you just start thinking about heroes of olympus and the reason why it's so unsatisfying continuity-wise as a sequel to percy jackson is that the small steps taken to dismantle the system of gods using children to fight in their wars are not acknowledged in the main narrative, and the mention of calypso and the very minor inclusion of kids from cabins other than the olympians don't do much to carry it on for another series

maybe it's just me but, pjo is kinda a tragedy? the fact that twelve year olds are forced onto quests to help a world they didn't choose to be born into, growing up seeing everyone around them fall before they got to reach adulthood, and having absolutely no choice in this narrative because either side they choose they're going to die no matter what

percy trading immortality for a normal life for all the demigods, his asking literal gods for basic human rights of not dying, at the end of the last olympian sets such a great potential for sequel exploring how things start to change in the demigod world; a hopeful tone to establish that although the world is broken we can change it no matter how little the steps we take

then hoo comes along and we're supposed to believe that despite fighting for five years, losing people along the way, turning down frickin' immortality, the highest honour the gods could give, just for a chance that those he loves and others that will take their place can live a better life, percy gets kidnapped and is ripped from everything he held dear and loses his memories and is transported to another camp, is forced onto another quest along with

a) four teenagers who are new to this demigod thing and haven't experienced the manipulation of the gods as much as he has (sure, they recognise the unfairness of the lives the gods have given them, but their points of view don't seem to show as much resentment towards them as much as percy is likely to have harboured)

b) a new roman praetor who, despite losing his memories, is raised in a culture where discipline and duty is prioritised, where the gods are to be treated with utmost respect and hence is numb to obeying their whims

c) his literal soulmate who has fought by his side through thick and thin, who had to endure eight months of his disappearance without a single clue as to where he could've been as well as a goddess for a mother who would disown her if she ever chose him over obeying her mother's commands,

he doesn't refuse to go? nor does he go on the quest out of reluctance and protectiveness over these children who don't know any better, and along the way doesn't begin to question whose side he actually wants to be on, now that the gods have dismissed his plea without so much as an excuse, and showing the others that maybe the gods aren't worth fighting for?

it doesn't show me a war-weary percy, not just feral and terrifying to watch on the battlefield, but absolutely refuses for him or anyone else to return there. the percy in hoo isn't one who curses out the gods, who is only forced aboard the argo ii after he sees jason, piper, leo, frank and hazel and is reminded of bianca, zoe, lee, beckendorf, michael, silena, ethan, luke, and those from kronos' army that he barely recognised from his first years at camp and decides he won't let that happen again, not ever. it doesn't tell me how he feels a pang in his heart whenever they can only do what the gods say because they don't know what else to do, and convinces them (and himself) that there's a way to make them listen, by going against what they stand for and resisting until they look us in the eye

idk man, there's a ton of things i'm not huge on about hoo, but how percy (and annabeth!) out of the seven approached the quest wasn't exactly my favourite. and how it ended without acknowledging things around here need to be changed or else. maybe it has been addressed in a later book like in toa, which i don't plan on reading, and if so i stand corrected

it's weird since i haven't read either series in so long but I was suddenly hit with feels this afternoon and wrote this post in a. frenzy after coming across this post on my dashboard

[secret-engima]

Here I am. The anon who enables. The enabler anon. Send forth your RWBY verses' rambles *opens arms wide to receive* (only if you want to of course)

ANON WHO ENABLES. ENABLER ANON. BLESS.

Wolfcury:

-Blake isn’t sure what to expect of her new teammates, but Ruby having a GIANT WOLFDOG is not one of them. It takes- a long time for Blake to not flinch and throw herself onto something high whenever Mercury shows up, even though he TRIES to not be a gremlin and bark or prank her.

-Weiss lasts maybe three days before she breaks out the baby talk. Because while Mercury is big he’s still a dog and we’ve seen how Weiss responds to Zwei. Mercury is annoyed by the baby talk and ignores her until Ruby convinces Weiss to “please just talk normally”. Then he will permit the scratching of ears.

-Weiss and Blake are both going to be SO SHOCKED (and upset) that Mercury is actually a person and they were never told.

-Ruby gets super into prosthetics and the building of them because of Mercury. She knows they can get him a prosthetic human leg, but it’s not going to transform into a wolf leg when he does. That technology just- doesn’t exist in that specific way yet. So Ruby decides at age ten or so that she’s gonna make one.

-Ruby: It’s transform when you do and it’ll be great and it’s also gonna be a *gun*.

-Mercury: Ruby I have teeth and claws, I don’t need a gun for a leg.

-Ruby, excitedly drawing prototype blueprints: GUNLEG.

-She does in fact build him a transforming gunnel with Velvet’s help. Mercury is a goodnatured Sigh.

-MercuryxEmerald is the eventual ship planned, and Yang teases him mercilessly for it once she’s sure Emerald is serious about defecting to the good guys. I’m also dabbling in Rosegarden (is that the ship name? OscarxRuby) because the idea of Ruby going from “ew crushes” to having one of her own amuses the heck out of me.

Always I Dreamed (Raven AU):

-Raven has a propensity for adopting things, as evidenced by Ozpin and later Emerald. But it doesn’t stop with them, and her habits are infectious. At various points in Yang’s childhood, she gets a gruff ex-assassin sibling from Mom (Mercury), two adorable cousins from Uncle Qrow (Ren and Nora), one angry older sister bandit (Vernal), a Cool Big Sister Figure with Fire Powers (Amber), and of also another Big Sister with Many Issues of The Anger that Raven carefully helps her work through. This particular big sister is a fav of Ruby’s because she can make cool toys from black glass.

-Yes Raven is fixit adopting Cinder

-No I didn’t see that coming either, neither did Raven. It just kinda- happened.

-Raven absolutely sings RWBY songs sometimes. Usually “Home” as a sibling lullaby for Qrow and later Team STORQ, then later All Our Days for her kids. But sometimes she can be heard humming other themes under her breath.

Azur verse:

-I’ve mentioned that Ozpin is a former Khara and proceeds to adopt Azur the feral Khara child, but I can’t resist touching on how Azur and Qrow meet.

-Azur is feral bby. He woke up in this world in the wilds and his Semblance (or magic, Oz is still not sure which it is) saved him from Grimm, and Azur tended to follow Grimm everywhere because they kept the other predators away. So this child is very feral when Oz finally coaxes him into his house. Azur is also protective and dedicated and knows that the only two people who come here are Ozdad and Housekeeper Lady.

-So when Qrow, very drunk and newly returned from a mission, decides to crash on Oz’s couch, Azur doesn’t have a clue that this is normal and fine. Cue Qrow being attacked and knocked out by a very persistent and angry 7-10 year old.

-Ozpin comes home to a trashed living room, a very proud Azur, and a Qrow who has been tied up using every bit of rope, string, or wire Azur could find and is nursing both a concussion and a hangover.

-Ozpin unties Qrow and explains he’s welcome here once he’s stopped laughing himself sick.

Dragon Yang:

-Yang really likes Ozpin. *Really* likes him. It’s not a crush or anything, but she went from a world soaked in magic to Remnant which has barely any left and it makes her feel off balance and numb. Then she goes to Beacon and the Headmaster HAS MAGIC. She can feel it. So she starts to heavily gravitate toward him when possible because he feels “normal”

-Ozpin, who has been the object of many school hood crushes, takes a bit to realize that Yang is not yet another student with a crush. And then he’s confused on why she keeps falling into his orbit when possible.

-He has no idea that in this magic-starved world, he is basically the living equivalent of dragon slayer catnip.

-Oznip.

-Ruby also thinks Yang has a crush and is thoroughly grossed out because *Yang he’s a TEACHER*. Yang just laughs at her baby sister’s discomfort.

Noctscar:

-Luna wakes up slowly, in fits and starts and dreams of rain and a knife in her side. She wakes up to the cold, to the loneliness, and then wakes up further because no child should have to deal with this.

-Luna wakes up when she is once again eleven years old and stares at herself in the mirror.

-Weiss Schnee, second daughter of Willow and Jaques Schnee, looks back. And looks *tired*.

-Her sister has already joined Altas academy and is on the fast track to the military, and though she loves her sister, it smacks greatly of Ravus from a lifetime ago and Luna cannot bear to look at Winter sometimes because of it.

-She dotes on her little brother, on poor Whitley who is neither stubborn like Winter or an old soul like Luna and yet is stuck in this abusive, neglectful household. She tries to shield him from mother’s blank stares and father’s sharp bursts of temper. She has lived with bruises like this before, better she take it than Whitley.

-When she is young, she hears on the news in school that there was a mining accident, that a great many Faunus died. While the rest of her classmates titter, one girl who Luna always avoided because she hung out with a crowd Luna didn’t trust, bursts into tears and turns bright blue. The other girls recoil. Luna sits down next to the girl and holds her hand, not hiding the tears falling from her own face at the thought of such massive loss of life.

-She never sees the Faunus girl again, but it is a wake up call. A reminder that something is very likely *wrong* with her father’s company. So she investigates.

-She is twelve the first time she sneaks out in a hoodie and a little painted theater mask. She makes it all the way down to Mantle, and there she reaches for blistered hands and weary souls. She is no longer an Oracle, but magic is of the soul and she remembers it well. When she calls, golden magic answers. She heals until she is exhausted, and somehow she manages to make it home without falling over or getting caught by Klein. She does it again, in between recitals and school and taking care of Whitley, she continues to sneak down to Mantle. Never speaking, never showing her face (they would hate her for her blood if they knew, she knows, reject her help if they saw her white hair and blue eyes), but always helping and healing where she can.

-The people of Mantle name her. Ghost, they call her.

-Moon Angel, the Faunus whisper. Helper, healer, lost soul.

-When she is thirteen, Luna signs up to a combat school despite her father’s disapproval. When Whitley clings to her in fear that she too will abandon him as Winter has (Winter visits to rarely, and always her attention rests solely on Weiss when she does and it makes Luna so *angry*), Luna tells him her plan. She will become a Huntress, and when she has her license, nothing will stop her from coming and taking him away from this place. She will be able to make money to provide for them, to free them from this cold palace of finery and recitals and empty wine bottles and bruises under their clothes in the shape of a man’s hands.

-When she is seventeen she applies to Beacon rather than Atlas, in defiance more than desire. She bids Whitley goodbye and promises once again to come back for him, he just needs to hold on a little longer.

-There is faith in his eyes as he waves her off. Luna died keeping her word, her duty, in another life. She will do no less here.

[anonniemousefics]

Some jesper and kaz fics pleaseee

I’m so sorry this has taken me foreeeever to get to you! I hope this scratches the itch. :)

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

Between You And Me

Fandom: Six of Crows | Jesper + Kaz

Rating: Teen and Up

Words: 3236

Jesper’s feet pounded the cobblestones, his labored breathing filling his head. He was sweating bullets beneath the dead weight slung over his shoulder – his collar and his pits were already soaked through. It was embarrassing how a few months of pencil-pushing at university had hacked away at his endurance. He was going to have to make up for that if he was going to keep pulling off these jobs for Kaz Brekker.

If Kaz Brekker was going to survive the night.

Jesper shook the thought out of his head and adjusted the limp body over his shoulder. He was going to pretend it was a sack of potatoes or a too-full school bag and not a 16-year-old boy’s body maybe bleeding out all over him.

His lungs were burning. He just needed to get Kaz back to The Slat. Haskell would have men there who would know what to do. Probably.

He felt like his knees were going to give out. How had this gone so horribly wrong? It was supposed to have been a simple drop – a brief exchange of kruge for information. Kaz had even not pulled the Wraith off her current assignment – he’d only brought Jesper for back-up. It was not supposed to have turned into a brawl.

“No dice, kid.” In his mind’s eye, Jesper could still see the cruel, yellowing smile of the turncoat Blacktip, his teeth grinning around the stub of a cigarette. “My price is much steeper if it’s intel on Rollins you’re after.”

“We had a deal.” Kaz’s rasp had been like flint on tinder. Jesper’s fingers had lingered at the pistol on his hip.

The Blacktip had laughed. Jesper could have warned him how terribly thin the ice was on which he now stood.

“A deal?” The Blacktip barked. “What are you, twelve? Something tells me this isn’t exactly going down with Haskell’s knowledge. If you’re wanting to make deals like men, start putting up real money.”

Kaz had cocked his head to the side. Just considering the man from his beat up bowler hat down to his scuffed, patent-leather shoes. Jesper had seen feral barn cats do the same thing before they played with their kill. He’d waited, breathless, for Kaz’s orders.

They never came.

Before either of them had moved, they were suddenly surrounded on all sides by Blacktips. Rough hands seized at their arms, at the napes of their coats. And the cruel, yellowing smile in front of them spread.

“Haskell doesn’t know you’re here, does he?” the gangster had cackled. “How much do you think he’ll pay to have you back?”

Jesper wasn’t going to wait to find out. (He knew the truth – Haskell wouldn’t be interested in paying until the Blacktips started removing appendages.)

He’d acted without thinking. Rammed his heel into a set of shins. Slammed his elbow deep into someone’s gut. Grabbed for his pistols and swirled.

Kaz was wielding his cane, its crow’s head hefty like a hammer, smashing into skulls. Jesper fired off a warning shot. No one backed down. He took aim again.

Gunpowder. The glint of a knife. Echoes of shouts through the alley. There was a blur of fists and blood, and several minutes later, a circle of bodies lay around them. And then there was only Jesper and Kaz, back to back, weapons still drawn and breathing hard.

Jesper had had only a moment of relief before Kaz stumbled forward and dropped to a knee.

And he was pressing a hand hard against a stab wound to his torso. In the lamplight, Jesper could see the black wool of his coat growing wet around his leather glove.

“What do I do?” Jesper had caught him by the shoulders before he could fall. “What do I do?” For a moment, Kaz’s dark brown eyes went wide, his brows pulled up, and to Jesper, he looked -- scared? And that was more horrifying than anything that had happened yet.

“Get,” Kaz had breathed, “your hands – off – m--”

And then he’d fainted.

This is fine. This happens. This is fine. This happens. Jesper was trying not to panic.

He just needed to get him back to The Slat. Haskell could do something. Haskell would do something. This was Kaz, his lieutenant, his right hand. He wouldn’t stand for this.

His legs felt like jelly. He just had to make it back to The—

“Jes…” Over his right ear, Jesper heard Kaz’s raspy croak, and what his heart did at the sound almost took him down. It was like someone had reached into his chest and given the muscle a hard wrench.

“Almost there, Brekker,” he said. “Hang on.”

“Jes.” Kaz’s words were methodical even then, even while flopping around like the prize catch of the day over a fisherman’s shoulder. “Put. Me. Down.”

Jesper had learned enough about Kaz Brekker by then to know even his contradictory instructions should be considered. So, even though his gut was screaming at him to get this boy home now, he stopped. Drew in some deep breaths, trying to catch his own. Then lowered Kaz to the pavement.

Kaz dropped hard, then inched back so he could prop himself up against the brick wall of the alley. His hand was still pressed to the inside of his coat as his head lolled back, leveling a glare up at Jesper through his disheveled black hair. Jesper was relieved to see he wasn’t looking quite so pale as before.

No one should be that pretty when they’re bleeding out and furious.

“You touch me again,” Kaz sounded winded, “and I will kill you.”

There’d been a time not so long ago Jesper might have believed him. But tonight, he had his fists balled at his waist like it would help him gulp down much-needed air, and still he can’t help but laugh.

“Good luck with that,” he said. “Maybe you should work on being vertical first.”

“Fuck you,” Kaz groaned, closing his eyes with a wince.

“Or, how about – ‘Thank you, Jesper, for saving my ass and for carrying me a thousand miles, especially since I’m weirdly as heavy as a newborn heifer.’”

“A newborn?” Kaz slit his eyes up at him. “Why a newborn? That’s a little emasculating.”

“I don’t know – they’re your words, not mine.”

Kaz huffed a laugh and then promptly groaned again, pressing the hand tighter against himself.

“Inej is going to kill me,” he muttered to himself.

It wasn’t supposed to sting when Kaz talked about girls. (But Kaz never talked about girls. Never looked at girls. Didn’t seem to care at all about girls. Which meant, maybe… maybe…) Jesper sort of wished there was another Blacktip around to spare a knife and stab these stupid thoughts out of his brain.

But then he remembered something else. Something that Blacktip had said.

“Forget Inej,” he said, crossing his arms. “Let’s talk about Haskell. Did he not know you were doing this? Where does he think we are tonight?”

Kaz gave a pained, rueful laugh.

“What does Haskell know would be a shorter conversation,” he rasped. “Haskell doesn’t give a shit about how I conduct my business. So long as I’m bringing him more kruge.”

My business? Jesper frowned. He’d always seen The Dregs as soldiers of Per Haskell. They were fists doing the fighting for old men in the streets. What kind of business could a kid have with a man like Pekka Rollins?

Some days it was like he didn’t know Kaz Brekker at all.

“If Haskell doesn’t know what you’re up to, he can’t protect you,” and Kaz laughed again when Jesper said it, which was even more infuriating. He pushed harder, squatting in front of Kaz to get at eye level. “I thought the whole point of this gang shit was to have each other’s backs. That could have gone very differently just now, and there’d have been no one to come for us--”

“No one is ever coming for us.”

It was starting to rain. Of course it was starting to rain. Jesper blinked back the droplets from his lashes, for the moment stunned by the vehemence in Kaz’s harsh voice. When he glared at Jesper, Kaz almost looked like could start spitting venom.

“I don’t know what you were expecting when you took this job,” he said. “This isn’t some family business where we give each other birthday cakes and presents on holidays. If you fuck up a job, there is no one coming for you.”

For a moment, Jesper let the weight of this wash over him with the rain. If his father only knew how far he’d fallen…

This is just until your debts are paid.

But it was getting harder to tell himself that these days. Kaz Brekker wielded a king-like kind of enigma that was hard to look away from once you got a taste of its power. And these days, Jesper wanted more than just a look, just a taste. He wanted…he wanted…

He closed his eyes, releasing a sigh and whatever he was about to think along with it.

“Brekker,” he said, trying to find the punchline again, “it sounds like you’re admitting that you’ve fucked up this job.”

Kaz rolled his eyes at him.

“No, I definitely meant to get stabbed. That was all part of the grand scheme.” And then he looked away to mutter, “You stupid podge,” and began to shift his body around in what looked to be a sad attempt to stand again.

“You’ve got a real funny way of showing gratitude.” Jesper would offer him a hand in a minute. This was amusing.

“My dearest Jesper,” Kaz said with a sneer, “however will I repay you for getting me stabbed?”

“You are cranky when you’re bleeding!” Jesper observed, suppressing a grin. “Do you want help up or are you just going to roll around like a worm? I’m good with whatever you decide.”

Kaz sighed the heavy sigh of a much older man.

“A hand,” he said, finally.

Jesper clasped his palm to Kaz’s leather glove and, with one hand wedged up under his armpit, hoisted the Bastard of the Barrel to his feet with a groan. Made sure he could remain steady. Made sure he had a decent grip on his cane.

Then they turned their slow, careful steps back to The Slat as the rain fell harder.

“Stop fussing,” Kaz grumbled, batting Jesper back with a glare and an elbow.

Jesper rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, I get it. No touching.” He glanced at the boy sidelong, his face grim and determined against the pain. “So, is it like a religious thing or something?”

Kaz looked at him like he was growing tentacles out of his ears.

“What?”

“The only time you’re ever jumpy is if people are going to touch you. Best I can figure that means you’re either a secret nun or someone fucked you up pretty bad. But I’m guessing you wouldn’t want to talk about that, though, so is it a religious thing?”

Kaz gave a grim huff through his nostrils. Shot him a weighted glance out of the corner of his eyes.

“You caught me. I am actually a nun. Out here on the streets, converting all you sinners.”

“And doing a piss-poor job of it, I must tell you.”

“Ah.” Jesper couldn’t tell if Kaz was wincing or waxing poetic. “You’re just making assumptions about which god I worship.”

“A fair point. Hey,” and Jesper made sure to hold out a hand away from Kaz’s body to stop him, “what if I went on ahead and brought back a medik to you? Your wobbles are scaring me.”

“I am not wobbling.” Kaz said the word like it tasted bad.

“You’re wobbling a little. You’re wobbling a lot. Hey, don’t give me that look – it is not my fault you’re wobbling.”

“Stop saying ‘wobble.’ It makes less sense every time you do.”

Jesper had to bite his own lips to will himself to keep from saying wobble one more time. Really, Kaz’s gait seemed a little more firm every time he teased him. If his goading could fuel Kaz all the way back to The Slat, it would be worth every contempt-filled glance. Which, quite frankly, Jesper didn’t hate. Goading Kaz was its own kind of fuel.

You are getting dangerously close to flirting with gang boss, Fahey. Keep your head on straight.

(No part of Jesper had ever been on straight.)

The Slat was only two blocks away now. Kaz was grunting every time he set down his bad leg, and they were both soaked in rain to the skin. It would have been easy, Jesper realized, to just run on ahead. Maybe someone could bring a stretcher. Maybe someone had something for the pain.

It was killing him to see Kaz in pain.

“We should cut across through the next alley,” Kaz was saying, his voice strained. “Go in through the back. Shouldn’t attract attention.”

“Brekker,” said Jesper, wishing there was some way to make a joke out of this, “you need attention. All right? We should be taking the quickest way back.”

“No.” Kaz was shaking his head as he grit his teeth. “Haskell shouldn’t know. Shouldn’t see. No one should see.”

“Kaz--”

“Listen to me.” Kaz turned on him savagely then, feral in the midst of the pain. “I am still in charge here. I am still the one who hired you. And that’s working out well for you, isn’t it? You like the cuts you’re getting? You’re getting them because of me. But I can make no guarantees about your future if I turn up there tonight looking like some lowlife runner got the best of me. There isn’t a gang in Ketterdam that looks kindly on that kind of weakness. Are you following me? What happened tonight stays between you and me.”

The rain dribbled off the tile roofs, collecting in puddles around their shoes. Jesper wasn’t sure why he was shivering.

“I follow you,” he said.

So, they cut through the alley, darker and deeper into the veins of Ketterdam. Jesper couldn’t think of jokes anymore. Couldn’t think past the painful breathing next to him. That leather gloved hand pressing against blood-soaked wool. Something in him was screaming at him – This wasn’t even the beginning of how dark the Dregs could be.

If your father could see you now…

There was a stoop at the back door of The Slat, underneath a little awning. And that’s where Kaz dropped with a grunt when they’d finally made it. Like he wasn’t going to take one more step.

Jesper huddled beneath the awning, wrapping his arms around himself. The night was darker than any he could remember.

“Can I get Inej at least?” he asked. Kaz was doubled over his gut, one hand in his hair.

“She’s not here,” Kaz replied. “Surveillance at the docks.”

“Right.”

So Jesper slipped into The Slat alone. And returned with a few kitchen supplies he could scrounge up – some rags, some soap, some clean water in a wooden bowl.

Then he sat next to Kaz on the stoop. Brekker was breathing hard through his nose, his jaw clenched tightly. Steeling himself, Jesper realized.

They hadn’t talked at all about what to do once they got to this point. It had been all jokes and snark and light threatening, but now… Jesper was painfully aware of how little he knew Kaz Brekker, really. He’d hired him for jobs, had trusted him with a few gang secrets. But Jesper only knew of Kaz what the bastard wanted him to see – namely, his scary (attractive) face only. (Don’t think about his attractive face, Fahey, what the hell.)

Beside him, Kaz swallowed. Then slowly moved to unbutton his coat.

Jesper stared down at the wooden bowl in his lap, focusing on his own hands.

But Kaz drew in a sharp breath through his teeth, and Jesper couldn’t stop himself from looking over.

Kaz’s white button-down was open wide – blood-red all across the middle. The hard planes of his chest heaved while he peeled back the blood-soaked fabric stuck to his pale skin, his stomach muscles contracting. The stab wound was higher than his navel, off to the far left -- a blackish, thin line, seeping scarlet. It didn’t seem too deep at least – Jesper was trying to focus on that innocuous fact.

“Here.” Without thinking, Jesper had picked up the clean rag. Reached out for the fabric of Kaz’s shirt.

“Don’t--”

“I know, I know. Don’t touch. I got it.”

And, maybe he felt reassured or maybe he was just too tired, but Kaz seemed to relinquish then. He slouched to one side, holding his shirt open, looking away.

And Jesper, gently, softly, cleared away the blood.

There was only the sound of the rain then, and sometimes Kaz’s stifled wincing.

“Sorry,” Jesper would apologize at the sound.

“’S fine.”

And that was all they would say.

Jesper was trying so hard to not touch Kaz’s skin, his own dark fingers started to shake. And that just made him mad at himself – shaking over blood. Shaking over a boy. Jesper clenched his jaw, hard, and tried to think of boring things to distract himself.

But didn’t work. Because there was literally nothing boring when you were around Kaz Brekker. Ever.

You’ve got a serious problem, Fahey – you know that, right?

He had to move to stand in front of Kaz to wrap the bandage around his torso. Kaz lifted his arms a little while Jesper worked and focused his attention on the stones of the stoop, collecting rain. When Jesper did glance at him, his forehead was collecting sweat, the furrows across it deeper than any 16-year-old’s forehead had the right to be.

“Sorry,” again.

“’S fine.”

Nothing about it felt fine. It felt far too real. Far too visceral. It felt like the last time Kaz was ever going to look Jesper in the eyes. It felt like Jesper was never going to be hired again.

It felt like he had something to lose.

When Jesper had finished wrapping the bandage, he stepped back into the rain, unsure of what to do from here. Kaz closed up his coat again, pressing a hand back over the site of the wound.

This would be the telling moment, Jesper realized. Kaz could tell him to get lost. Or thank him. And Kaz Brekker wasn’t known for thanking.

This is going to be over before it even starts…

Kaz sighed one last time. Drew himself up to stand on the stoop, now a few inches taller than Jesper because of it. He looked wan and pained, and Jesper wasn’t sure how to look at him.

“Think you can help me burn this shirt tomorrow?” he asked Jesper.

Jesper breathed out, surprised. Relieved. Tomorrow, he’d said. With that, he’d made up his mind to forget Kaz’s personal business with Pekka Rollins, with whatever strange vendetta had led them to this moment.

Kaz Brekker still wanted to keep him around. That was enough.

“Yeah, sure,” Jesper agreed, with a casual shrug. “Whatever you need.”

Kaz nodded and turned to limp up the steps. But he turned at the door.

“Are you coming or what?” he barked back at Jesper.

Only then did Jesper relax. And smile to himself. And followed him inside.

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Tagging: @loveyatopluto, @raging-bisexual-alert, @ireallyshouldsleeprn, @annejulianneh111, @whosanxiety, @addies-invisible-life

[crispyjenkins]

I’m resending it now! ok so what if for some reason Obi’s lightsaber either gets destroyed or the crystal stops resonating with him & He’s with Jango who goes with him to wherever the force guides him to find his new crystal at & like Obi goes through some wack vision/trial from the force and when he gets through it his new crystal reveals itself and it’s the same type of crystal like in the dark saber? And Jango is just losing it when he sees it bc he thinks “HOW?! but also, That’s HOT” hehe

(my DUDE i’m so flippin glad you re-sent this, i’ve had to force myself not to write this one so i could get other people’s prompts out, and i was at first unsure of how to spin this, but holy FECK is it all i can think about now. i just. i just want to write so much of this obi. i’m sorry i didn’t get to jango much, but you bet your butters he and obi are connected every which way in this, in ways beyond force bonds because i’m a dramatic bitch.

i hope y’all enjoy this one as much as i did!!)

edit 6/26/20: this is now part of a full fix-it! you can read it as it updates here on my Ao3! updates on fridays.

  Illum is colder than he remembered, though the last time Obi-Wan had been here, he had not feared wrapping himself up in the Force. It’s been... Force, he hasn’t been back since after Melida/Daan, and something in him breaks again at the thought that he’d lost the ‘saber that had been with him for more than a decade. But, no, a lightsaber is a small price to pay to have saved his master.

  His former master. He isn't Qui-Gon’s apprentice anymore, Anakin had made sure of that.  

  Obi-Wan had been sent to Illum alone, no younglings in need of making their first ‘saber, and no one else needing to replace theirs; Anakin has a few more months in the crèche before he can build his, and Obi-Wan can’t thank the council enough that he doesn’t have to walk the caves knowing his replacement is somewhere doing the same. With Qui-Gon still in the Halls, Master Plo had stepped forward in offer to knight him, and had almost had to fight Master Depa for the honor, which was... strange. He’s used to quite the opposite of masters fighting over him, but an amused Yoda had almost used his lineage status to refuse them both for himself instead, until Mace, as Master of the Order, had given the right to Plo Koon. And Jedi do not gloat, but the Kel Dor had certainly been smiling behind his mask.

  The doors to the caves open easily despite the ice, so maybe his great-grandmaster had been right about Obi-Wan rebuilding his lightsaber before his knighting ceremony. This thought doesn’t settle the feeling of intruding when he steps over the threshold, the marrow-deep feeling of being an imposter in one of the most holy places in the galaxy. 

  The kyber hums around him, as if he wasn’t at this exact moment considering walking away from the Order.

  He’s hardly a proper Jedi, is he? Killing a Sith with a sai tok, falling in love with Satine, holding a grudge against a nine year-old freed slave for taking his master away from him. Hadn’t he drawn on the dark side to defeat the Zabrak? Killed him not out of duty to his vow but in revenge for the fallen Qui-Gon? His lightsaber might have cauterised the wounds, but he has blood on his hands all the same.

  So he keeps walking, refusing to touch a single crystal he passes. The Force tugs him deeper into the caves anyways, and he has half a thought to ignoring it (does he even deserve to listen to it anymore?) but for all his tumultuous thoughts, Obi-Wan is beholden to the Force, beholden to the grip it has in his viscera. 

  He follows it as his breath forms clouds before his lips, frost on his skin that he cannot even feel. Where would he go, if he left? Stewjon is insular, they would not want him back, but he cannot stay at the Temple. Naboo, perhaps? Padmé would surely welcome him, but could he really settle down on such a peaceful planet after spending over half his life running around the stars with his master?

  Closing his eyes at the memory of Satine, he allows himself to... consider it. Would she still want him? They haven’t spoken since, but sometimes he can feel her in his mind still, a little warm bud that could bloom, if he let it. And even if she threw him out, Mandalore isn’t a bad place to restart.

  “Could I really?” he muses out loud, stepping over a great crack in the stone floor and setting his feet to follow a barely-there path towards the lake, only for the Force to have him veer away from it. Could he really give up being a Jedi? After every trial the Force had put him through to even become an apprentice? Oh, but he had tried so. kriffing. hard. to get this far, could he really do anything else?

  He swallows thickly and almost desperately pulls the Force back around himself, as if in apology, as if in repentance, as if anguish—

  Peace, it whispers, brushing over his mind even as it sinks claws into his ribs and pulls him up short.

  Obi-Wan is twelve again, wind whipping around him as the Jedi transport takes off from Bandomeer, Qui-Gon Jinn staring down at him. Force, but he hasn’t ever felt worse than when he feels their raw bond stretching with distance, yanking deep in him until he’s breathless, doesn’t Master Jinn feel it—?

  And Obi-Wan is sitting in the living room of their Temple apartment, kneeling on his cloth meditation mat across from Qui-Gon’s bamboo one. His master’s warmth surrounds him in a glittering cloud of comfort and ease, and they’ve been at this for five years now, and still Obi-Wan holds this as his most treasured memory, something to cling to when things seem desolate or he’s been arguing with Qui-Gon, or—

  He’s in the glass city of Sundari, brushing a hand over Satine’s cheek as she laughs, and Force, she’s even more beautiful than he remembers— She’s dying in his arms, bruises violent red around her throat, a sizzling ‘saber wound through her middle, and she’s beautiful even now, oh Force not like this—

  Obi-Wan is older, his joints a little creakier, his hair grey at the temples, and he has a beskad sticking out of his chest. Above him is a boy that looks suspiciously like him, red hair and green eyes but with Satine’s lips and eyebrows. Korkie, the Force tells him, as the boy leans over Obi-Wan and why is he angry? Ah, so this blade had not been meant for him—

  Anakin, little Anakin with a padawan braid beams up at him in a training salle with a practice saber in his fists. Obi-Wan moves to correct his kata, and though he’s... sure he had never learned this from Qui-Gon, he knows it’s Form III, he knows it’s Soresu like he knows his own name, like he knows the padawan bond in his mind and the warm nova glow of Anakin attached to his core—

  Obi-Wan is an old man, seated on a perfectly smooth grey stone above a green, green cliff battered by ocean waves and briny air. He meditates with the knowledge he had come from here, the Force here as close to home as he could ever hope to achieve. He had not searched for the family that left him on the Temple steps, and that’s just fine by him, he could not have asked for a better place to begin his seclusion studies than Stewjon—

  Obi-Wan is an old man, seated on a perfectly smooth red stone, the desert cliffs around him worn smooth from the sand that batters around him, ripping through his robes but never touching his skin. The Force is feral here, claws and bone and teeth teeth teeth, but somewhere out in the dunes, there shines Luke, pearlescent and good and proof that Obi-Wan has not failed just yet. 

  Satine is screaming at him as she shoves Korkie behind her back and raises a beskad that seems wrong, wrong in her hands, but he doesn’t have time to think about his heart wielding a blade, when he’s wielding the darksaber, whistling as it cuts through the air against Tor Vizsla, why had they trusted him, he knew he could not be trusted, and now his family is going to pay the price— His ‘saber, black as space, connects with Vizsla's, black as night, and Obi-Wan is not wielding the darksaber, but something else entirely, with a beskad’s edge, with a hum that’s almost a scream, that moves towards the darksaber with the intent to shatter—

  A Mando in blue and silver beskar’gam hands him a hilt, hammered durasteel wrapped in black leather, so unlike any Jedi ‘saber hilt he’s ever seen, but Obi-Wan knows it’s his from the way it sings, the way the Force insists it’s his his his—

  The blue and silver Mando with his helmet off, a man so unspeakably gorgeous that Obi-Wan wonders how he even copes— The Mando’s gloved hand grips Obi-Wan’s wrist, the face he knows so well twisted into dread and anger. Don’t go, they beg, but Obi-Wan must, he cannot abandon Mandalore, he cannot—, Don’t you realize that Zabrak’s fucking crazy? Obi-Wan, he’s going to kill you—

  Obi-Wan is older, but not much, pinned underneath blue and silver armour as Sundari glass and blasterfire rains around them—

  Obi-Wan watches the Beautiful Mando sleeping with his head pillowed on Obi-Wan’s arm, a new scar curling through his eyebrow that he hasn’t asked about yet—

  A mini Beautiful Mando eyes him suspiciously, hands on his hips while his buir stands behind him and tries not to laugh—

  Obi-Wan is on Illum, but he is not, he weaves his way through dusty streets he has never seen before and yet knows the way by heart, following that heart towards the hangar where his aliit waits. He has beads braided messily in his hair, twisted by pudgy fingers insisting Obi-Wan deserves to look just as pretty as his buir; that durasteel and leather hilt bounces against his hip, and he has a single blue and silver gauntlet on his right arm. He is a Jedi, the Force assures him, in the way light bends through him, but he is also Mando’ad, he knows that without needing to ask. He belongs to a planet and to a people that he did not start with, in a strange Force-willed way that he can’t explain, and he’s a Jedi, but he knows he has a family waiting for him in an old police craft. A black-bladed ‘saber hums at his side.

  Obi-Wan opens his eyes in front of a rock wall, glittering kyber in every colour rising up the sheer face until their little lights disappear into the darkness far above him. Just above eye-level, there is a small crater in the wall, as if the rest of the kyber cannot grow around the single crystal at the crater’s center. 

  It is opalescent and space-black, and looks as if it had been cut for a piece of opulent jewellery. The Force whispers heart heart heart, and he supposes it does look the size and shape of a beskar’ta, and isn’t that fitting?

  When he reaches out to take it, the white glow at its edges seems to suck in the light from around it, and it sings higher than any crystal he’s ever touched, whistling trials and heartbreak and pain and blood, but also love and laughter and family, if he lets it form the notes just right. It sings in Mando’a, in war gods and clans and beskar, and it sings for Obi-Wan alone.

-   Across the galaxy, Jango wakes on Jaster’s Legacy in a cold sweat.

Translations/Other: sai tok — the ‘saber move of cutting an opponent in half, frowned upon by the Jedi for its roots in the dark side. beskad — traditional Mandalorian curved saber made of beskar. allit — Mando’a for “clan” or “family”. buir — Mando’a for “parent”, gender neutral. beskar’ta — Mando’a for “iron heart”, the elongated hex-shape common in Mandalorian armour designs (great post here comparing them to katana tsuba). also called ka’rta beskar or “heart of the iron”. Jaster’s Legacy — Jaster’s old ship that Jango found and used post Galidraan, and pre Slave I.

[twoidiotwriters1]

Déjà Vu (Or are we losing our minds?) XII -Modern!Shirbert

A/N: I wrote 14 parts of this thing just to write the one AU! that I wanted to make and it didn’t even take the whole chapter why do I hate myself so much -Danny

Words: 1,660

Series’ Masterlist

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Chapter Twelve: I think we've met (But I can't be sure)

Asleep or awake    

I dream of you all the same.

Anne was determined to have a good time, and considering it was a day before Christmas Eve, it wasn't that hard to act excited and giddy.

Diana met her at the bar around 2 pm, neither of them were heavy drinkers, so they would be in for the afternoon of their lives.

"Okay!" Anne tapped the table excitedly. "I saw that insta story you posted yesterday. Rant to me, Diana..."

_____________________

Gilbert roughly closed his laptop and pushed it aside.

Nothing. Roy had no 'Anne' added to his contacts on any social media, no pictures with her either.

Maybe he was going crazy.

Okay, maybe loneliness was perhaps not the best companion, and with the planning for the Orchard's anniversary, it was easy to let stress take over, but at this point, Anne was so real to him he could almost remember her voice, the way her hand felt on his...

Fuck, he really was losing his mind.

Deciding to take a break from life in general, Gilbert laid back on the couch and turned on the tv, he found a shitty horror movie and approved of it almost instantly, nothing like a predictable plot to distract you from the slow decay of your mental health.

_____________________

"...And that's that," Diana retrieved her phone from Anne's hands. "You're with me?"

"Yes! Oh my god," Anne shook her head. "I usually don't speak ill about other girls, but if this asshole tries to get the credit of one of your songs again, I'll have to commit murder."

Diana laughed, she looked down at her phone and scrolled through the posts of her feed. Suddenly she came across a new one and let out a short exclamation.

"Look, Anne!" She showed her the picture. "The Orchard's having a party right after the Holidays!"

"Isn't that place like a family restaurant?"

"Yeah, but it's their anniversary, look," She pushed the phone towards her. "We should go."

"Why? Ruby's the one obsessed with a waiter..."

"Yeah, but we had fun last time we were there," Diana grinned.

Anne tilted her head, trying to remember.

"Well, the first half of the night was fun, yeah..."

"Oh, the second half was even better, and your amnesia's proof of it," Her friend laughed.

"Whatever," Anne snorted.

Diana grabbed her phone once more and quickly accessed the Orchard's profile.

"Honestly, it looks like it's going to be fun, and it's around the same time we have to go back anyway, so maybe the party could lift our spirits? Aww, look! A picture of the owners..."

She gasped so loudly Anne almost jumped out of her chair.

"What? What is it?"

"No way!" Diana smiled. "I can't believe he owns that place!"

"What are you talking about?"

"An old classmate," The girl explained brightly. "You didn't get to meet him because he moved out after his mom died, but he was a nice kid, everyone in our class liked him... I always wondered what had happened to him..."

"He owns the restaurant?" Anne raised a brow. "Nice, is he cute? Maybe if you date him we could get free meals..."

Diana laughed. "He wasn't really my type, but I wouldn't mind it if he asked me out anyway... look..."

The redhead looked down at the picture and something in her chest tightened with weird excitement. She knew that face.

"Di," She said quietly. "What did you say his name was?"

"I didn't tell you," She sipped a bit of her drink before replying. "Gilbert Blythe."

"Funny," Anne frowned. "Are you sure I've never met him?"

Diana snorted. "Well, shouldn't you know that better than me?"

"I feel like I've seen him around..."

"Maybe you saw him the night we went to his diner? He works there, after all..."

"Right," She said without much conviction. "Maybe..."

"Oh, how festive!" Diana nudged her arm, successfully distracting her. "A day before Christmas eve and this place decided it's a great idea to show Zombieland on every tv..."

Anne snorted.

"Nothing says 'Happy Christmas' better than mutilated corpses, Diana."

***

"Text me when you get home!"

"I will..."

"And think about the party, I believe we could have a great time, I bet they would all love to see Gilbert again..."

Anne smiled at her comment, she didn't know this Gilbert guy but Diana seemed to have a soft spot for him, even if she hadn't seen him since she was twelve years old. Maybe he'd be a kindred spirit of sorts.

"I'll think about it. See you!"

_____________________

Gilbert walked out of the building with nothing but a backpack and a rusty hammer. This wasn't the ideal weapon to defend yourself from zombies, but it was all he could find. He could look for better armament later, right now he had to find a safe place where to sleep.

His steps, though muffled by the dust, were pretty much the only sound he could notice, which was a good sign, but also, a bit unnerving.  His shirt was sticking to his lower back thanks to the sweat, he couldn't remember the last time he'd showered, hell, he couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten...

Ahead of him, there was a sleeping dog, in his hungry state he considered killing the poor animal and eat him whole, but he thought it to be too desperate, even for someone in his position.

However, Gilbert quickly regretted his decision the second after he'd taken it. At the sound of his footsteps, the dog woke up — or well, more like simply stood up, judging by the state of his bloodshot eyes the man doubted that animal was even capable of sleeping.

The creature growled and his back arched menacingly, Gilbert stumbled back with his grip on the hammer painfully tight. The dog pounced without warning, and he fell on the concrete.

He saw him hovering above his body for a second and the next he was batted out of sight. Blood drops fell across his face and he gawked at the sensation, the woman in front of him lowered the bat and he looked up. He knew who she was even before he'd seen the red flashes around her soft features.

_____________________

Anne's eyes widened as she recognized the man at her feet.

"Gilbert Blythe."

He stared at her in shock, Anne offered her hand and he took it without hesitation, she pulled him upwards and examined his face.

"Gilbert," She repeated. "Why?"

She knew the question made no sense, but it was the only thing she could think of. Why was he here?

"Anne," He breathed, a hand reached out to hold her face and she didn't stop him. "Are you real?"

That question didn't make sense either, but neither did the whole scenario. Where the hell was she and why had she just killed a dog?

Oh god, she'd killed a dog.

Her head turned back to the animal's corpse, and to her horror, although battered and with a twisted neck, the creature was still very much alive and it was crawling towards them, its fangs at full display.

Gilbert looked down as well and his expression darkened.

"You should close your eyes."

Anne obeyed without a second thought. She heard the abrupt sound of bones cracking, and the dog's feral growls until the street was silent again. When she opened her eyes Gilbert was holding a hammer covered in blood, and the dog's face had been left unrecognizable.

_____________________

They stared at each other without knowing what to do, Gilbert looked down at his bloody hands and grimaced.

"Please, don't think I'm some kind of crazy psycho..."

"I was the first to break that dog's neck," She stated. "Why would I think that?"

He laughed shortly. "...You're Anne, aren't you?"

"Yes," She admitted. "With an E. You're Gilbert?"

The man nodded.

"Why is this happening?" He asked. "Why am I dreaming about you?"

"Wasn't this my dream?"  She laughed nervously. "This is so weird, you're acting like a real person."

"I am a real person!" He exclaimed.

"Yeah, but I meant like, you're acting as if you were the real Gilbert," Anne chuckled. "Man, I have such a wild imagination..."

"Anne, this is real," He insisted. "Well, not this zombie stuff, but this... whatever this is. Every night I fall asleep and I dream about you. I thought this was all my problem but if you're aware of it as well..."

"What if this is your head messing with you?" Anne offered. "What if you're dreaming that I'm also having these weird dreams and it's all you? Because maybe I think I'm real, but perhaps that's what you want to hear so you're just making me say things—"

"You overthink a lot, don't you?" He grumbled.

"I'm just saying!" She exclaimed, lightly hitting his head with the bat. "You've said that before... I... I just can't remember when..."

Gilbert tilted his head deep in thought. "You've done that before too... although it wasn't a bat the first time..."

"What was it?"

His jaw clenched, Anne could practically see the gears in his brain working at full speed.

"I got it!" Gilbert said abruptly, eyebrows raising in realization. "It was a—"

_____________________

"...slate."

The young man groaned, lazily stretching over the couch and running a hand over his face to wake up fully.

"What... the fuck..." He mumbled hoarsely, "was that?"

_____________________

Anne bolted upright on her bed, the whole room was still dark and there was a light, cold breeze seeping through her window. She remembered every bit of her dream, and her eyes moved as if reading invisible calculations floating around her.

"It can't be," She whispered, one hand anxiously looking for her phone. "He can't... it was just a dream..."

When she finally found the device her fingers acted on their own, Anne found the diner's page and clicked on the owners' picture, staring at the youngest of the two men.

"Gilbert Blythe," She frowned. "Do I know you?"

Taglist.

@ninizkd @http-itsrebecca @fuckthisshitimoutyall @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @little-boats-on-a-lake @i-am-scared-and-useless-bisexual @skarlygonzalez​

[theimpossibleg1rl]

The Perfect Weapon | Mini Series

Bucky Barnes x OFC Frankie Chambers

Warnings: angst, mentions of violence, blood and death, smut

She couldn’t remember.

The memories weren’t blurry. They were gone. Completely gone. Anything before they took her just didn’t exist anymore. She cried, sobbed. Her pigtails had come loose. She was still in the pink pajamas. Begging, pleading for her mama. “Wipe her,” the man with the mustache told the other two men. She struggled against them the best she could. But she was only eight.

Twelve years under their thumb. Doing as she was told without hesitation. Failure equaled pain, disobedience equaled pain. She didn’t want to hurt, so she did what they wanted her to. Nearly four years with the Black Widows. Ballet every morning. Training every evening. The others feared the man with the metal arm. But she’d found it fascinating. Beautiful almost.

“You prepared little Sparrow?,” he asked in thick Russian. Voice muffled by the mask. Only his eyes were visible. “Ready, Soldat.” Perfect Little Soldier Two years with him. Determined to impress him. Strong, stubborn. Vigilant. He’d never really hurt her, but her tiny body would ache nonetheless.

She wanted to show him she could do it. Every day. The same routine until she finally took him down. “Little warrior,” he praised, “good job, Sparrow.” She’d beamed at his praise, green eyes bright. She’d done it. Finally done it. Then he began to be a bit more ruthless. A little more aggressive with her. He wanted her to do her best.

Twelve years old. Siberia. That she remembered. She didn’t show any fear, any nerves. If she did, they’d hurt her. Weapons don’t feel She trained harder. Diligent. Determined to be the best. Solokov favored her over the others. The Winter Soldiers. She’d gone above and beyond. Tiny thing could take down grown men. No one suspected her. That made her the perfect weapon.

“You’ll train with him,” he told her, opening the door to the dank, dim room. It smelled like blood, iron in her nostrils. Death. The looming figure against the windows, back to her. Metal arm gleaming in the tiny bit of light coming through. Her Soldat. “When you’re ready,” she told him in smooth Russian.

He turned to her. Recognition in his deep blue eyes. She’d grown since he’d seen her. “Sparrow,” he spoke and she nodded. He knew her. “They say you’ve progressed. Show me.” Fire in her green eyes. Fighting stance. She’d show him that her hard work had paid off.

He had her on the hard ground before she could make a move. “Too slow,” he growled. “Sorry, Soldat.” Two more times, her head hurting from the concrete floor. And then she had him. “Good,” he said, stern but something underneath. Pride, maybe? “The Widows taught you well. But you need to be clean. More precise. The enemy will not give you a chance.”

She spent the next few years training with him on and off. Growing stronger, better. Faster. The serum making her a beast. Solokov didn’t miss the connection between them. A partnership. An understanding. Something deep. He had no idea the bond that had formed between the soldiers.

****

Eighteen. Tenth mission with the Soldat. They were a vicious pair. Deadshots. Focused. Terrifying. The safehouse was warm in contrast to the Siberian blizzard outside. He’d started a fire for them. She was wrapped in a threadbare blanket. Luckily the serum kept her semi warm. Things had begun to change between them. Something deeper.

He’d been cautious at first. Thought of her as fragile. Like glass. She’d accepted it, but she craved more. Something else. She wanted him to understand. She wanted to take his pain, wanted him to take her. “We should sleep,” he told her, side still bleeding a bit from the knife wound. She’d cleaned it best she could. No one else could touch him. No one but her. The Soldier trusted her.

“Keep me warm,” she muttered and he pulled her into his arms. One warm, one cool. The contrast always made her shiver. “I need you tonight.” His words were always simple. He didn’t mince words with her. He always said what he wanted. Needed. “It’s yours, Soldier. You know it is.” His nimble hands undressed her. Tracing every curve, committing it to memory. “Gotta remember,” he’d tell her, “so deep that they can’t wipe it away.”

Mapping her body out, determined to remember it. Every freckle. Every sound she made. Her breathy moans. It enraptured him. Sweetest music. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered, eyes trailing his hands, soaking it all in. He needed to remember her. “Sparrow. Let me hear you tonight.” He wanted to go slow, soft. Gentle, careful. But she’d had enough of it.

“Take it out on me.” His eyes flickered to hers, brows furrowed. “I mean it. All of it. Use me, Soldat. All your pain, your anger. Your frustration. Use me.” He nodded. He understood. He wanted that. So he did. Hard, rough. Making her screams echo off the walls. Her ability bursting from her, making the windows shake. His hand on her throat, squeezing. Making her whimper.

Harder, deeper. Orgasm after orgasm. Her body shook, but she let him have his way. Hours of it. His pain transferring to her. She’d take it, she told him. So he gave it away. Feral, primal. Animalistic. Rolling her over to her hands and knees. Hand in her hair, pulling so hard she saw stars. Hitting impossibly deep. He’d never know satisfaction like this. Like she was made just for him.

And so it went. Every mission the same. Especially when he was hurt. Or slipped up in some way. “Use me,” she’d tell him. So he did. Over and over. Four, five times a night. Wearing her out completely. Breaking her, making her his. Marks littered her shoulders and neck. And when they’d heal, he’d make new ones. His, she was his.

Back at base, it was more of the same. She’d be the only one he’d let tend to his wounds. No one else dare come close. He’d go feral, aggressive. Fight them. So Solokov relented. “Let him have the Sparrow.” She could soothe the screams, the nightmares, so they’d lead her into his cell. He’d curl himself around her. “Take my pain, Sparrow.” And she would.

In the morning, they’d come. Rip her from him. He’d scream for her. “Mine! She’s mine!” Growling, going completely insane. Sometimes leaving guards for dead. She’d cry, fighting them. Cry for her soldier. Beg them to let her go back. “He needs me!” Always the same. Every day. Pain, anger. She knew it would come to a head.

He’d overheard them. Solokov wanted to send her to Moscow. Alone. He’d discovered what they’d done. The Soldat had defiled his precious little soldier. He couldn’t let them. She’d cried, held onto him, but he was determined. He had to, he’d told her. It was the only way. He couldn’t give her what she deserved. He’d never be able to.

Tears fell, hot and angry down her cheeks. “You can come,” she’s told him, but he’d refused. He couldn’t save her from them, so he had to free her. He held the door open, but she held onto him. “Please, Soldat,” she begged, sobbing. Hurting. She needed him. He needed her. They couldn’t exist without each other. But he pulled her from him. “Go. Go on. Fly little Sparrow.”

So she did.

[seriousfic]

Terminator: Dark Fate

I have no idea how TSCC came up with two seasons’ worth of innovative scenarios about Terminators and these cinematic universe motherfuckers can only redo T2 with more CGI.

This movie is plotless. It has no real plot. It’s like Now That’s What I Call A Terminator Movie! There are so many callbacks and borrowings from all the other Terminator movies that it passes the point of homage and just becomes plagiarism. The bad Terminator is the same as the T-X, metal endoskeleton with a T-1000 shell. They kill him with a Terminator power core. They say Come With Me If You Want To Live and I’ll Be Back (twice! It’s the first thing Sarah Connor says and it makes no sense in context, it’s just something people say in Terminator movies). In fact, it has anti-plot, since it undoes a lot of the story developments in Terminator and T2.

The premise is basically just we’re going to remake Terminator 1, but people don’t like reboots, so we’re going to bring back Linda Hamilton and make it a technically kinda sorta sequel (sure, Skynet was wiped from existence, but another, completely different, yet exactly the same AI called Legion was created and did the exact same thing. Which also happened in T3, but they had the decency to still call it Skynet). But otherwise, it’s entirely people being chased by an evil robot from the future and trying to destroy it. 

That’s it. That’s all there is to it. T2 had the whole thing about preventing Judgment Day before it happened. T3 had Judgment Day actually happen. This one, nothing. There is nothing going on under the surface other than a bunch of action sequences and explosions. Even T3 got some mileage out of the idea that Judgment Day was inevitable. Here, our cast learns that Judgment Day was already ‘averted’ once slash that it’s destined to be repeated and they basically go “Eh. Figures.” I’m not kidding.

Wait, that’s not fair. Let’s count out the TWEEESTS.

1. In a very contrived way, the script waits an hour and a half to actually explain why heroine Dani has been targeted for termination--you know, the thing Kyle Reese explained to Sarah Connor the moment they were out of danger--all to set up this big ‘reveal’ that Dani isn’t the NuSarah, she’s the NuJohn (yes, they actually say this aloud, just so you soup sandwich motherfuckers in the audience get it). Hear that, neckbeards, John Connor is now a woman! And Mexican! And she’s got a bit of a gay vibe, because it’s 2019 and God forbid we have a heroine that isn’t a bit bicurious. If she has a cock and balls, my bingo card will be a winner.

2. Months after killing John Connor and thus completing his mission, an Arnold-model Terminator started a family (wow, that was quick) and learned the value of human life and eventually switched sides. This is a crazy new idea that also happened in Terminator: Genebissss, so it’s done and dusted in ten minutes, even though Arnold is the most engaging character. (He’s saddled with a lot of yuk lines about how he’s a comically serious Terminator, yet (teehee) works as an interior decorator, but at least he has a personality.)

3. The other good Terminator is Grace, who needs meds to keep up her cyborg strength or she’ll crash (this never affects the plot) (it’s like they read something about Rey Palpatine having no flaws and so they decided to give Grace the ‘flaw’ of literally having her own Kryptonite). She’s not a Terminator, she’s an augmented human, which means she can make MCU-style wisecracks every five minutes. (”I didn’t hear anything.” “That’s because you’re not a cybernetic super soldier from the future.” Actual dialogue.)

4. Linda Hamilton is back, baby! Yes, that’s right, they dragged her away from doing guest spots on Lost Girl! Can you believe???? She’s become a Terminator hunter that ambushes Terminators as they come back from the future and destroys them, because Skynet was both able to send back an infinite number of Terminators AND because now they can easily be destroyed by one five-hundred-year-old woman. 

This makes it a bit confusing why they have so much trouble taking out Ghost Rider, given that he’s a T-1000 skin with a creamy T-800 center. It seems like if you hammer him enough, he’s got no endoskeleton, and that’s all she wrote. That’s what happened to the T-X. Can his liquid metal skin just walk around without the other half of him? If so, what’s the point of the endoskeleton? The T-1000 managed without it and that seemed a lot harder to kill. At one point, Sarah hits the bare endoskeleton with a bazooka, which seems like it should’ve been a mortal blow, but it’s the first act, so I guess not.

And is it supposed to be funny that the opening takes place in a car factory where (in 2019!) the human workers are losing their assembly line jobs to machines? Because they’re all Mexicans? None of them ever look at a Terminator and go THEY TOOK OUR JOBS, but man, that one is all teed up for the Rifftrax boys.

For a movie with, as I said, no plot, it’s very rushed. They seem to be saying “yeah, it’s a dumb Terminator movie, you know the score,” (even tho it’s halfway aimed at people who aren’t Terminator fans; more on that in a minute) because it seems to take all of ten minutes for both good guys and bad guys to find Dani and start getting into CGI stunt double fights, which means the story has very little time to breathe and we have very little time to get to know any of the characters. The bad guy spawns practically at Dani’s front door! And pretty much does everything by massacring a bunch of people and then hacking a computer. The T-1000 had some intelligence, some charisma. This guy’s a big nothing.

And the Dani character is useless. She starts the story already super assertive, is barely traumatized at all by her loved ones being killed and her own life being endangered. There’s none of that relatable feel of an everyman suddenly being told they have a grand destiny and an incredible responsibility, because right from the start she’s standing up to her mean boss and doing the Nevertheless She Persisted thing. And all this while being literally five feet tall and looking all of twelve years old. 

I love these Spy Kids movies.

And at least the original two movies were smart enough to leave the future John Connor mostly to the imagination. This one actually shows us Dani as grizzled military badass, beating up guys and delivering inspiring speeches (would it surprise you to know that humans fighting among each other “is exactly what Legion wants”?), and it’s just--oh man. If ever a political leader is enough to make people think back to the good old days of Trump and Biden...

And if we’re going to talk shit (rightfully) about Jai Courtney’s Kyle Reese not being at all scruffy or traumatized or feral, it should be noted that Grace seems pretty well-adjusted for a post-apocalyptic guerrilla fighter (who all wear Starship Trooper uniforms). Aside from a tendency to smash the face in of everyone she comes across, whether they’ve done anything to deserve it or not (Sample dialogue, to a doctor who is looking at her X-rays after performing life-saving surgery on her: “Did I give you permission to look at my private parts?” SMASH. No, really!)

They really go all in on this cringey, woke af “You’re not the mother of some MAN, Dani. YOU ARE THE FUTURE!” And yet, there’s a hilarious amount of toxic masculinity in this movie, just without the dongs. About every other line Sarah and Grace have is generic tough guy bullshit about how they’re going to kick someone’s ass, how they’re suspicious of someone, how they’re hostile towards someone. If they had dongs, you would think they were the smallest dongs possible, because they are compensating for something, BIG TIME. Between the T-800 and Sarah and Grace, everyone in this movie seems to outright hate each other, to the point that Arnold’s killer cyborg is one of the more pleasant characters. It gets to where you just want someone to order a fucking decaf. Does the fact that Sarah Connor has a vagina keep it from being ridiculously over the top how she spends all her time either blowing up robots or drinking herself into a stupor? C’mon. You can’t complain about male characters having ‘man-pain’ then give Bad Grandma a pass over her ovaries.

And that’s it. It’s a Brundlefly shit between yet another dumb girlpower reboot for the people who’ve never seen a Terminator movie and a sequel with Sarah and Uncle Bob to try and get that last drop of blood outta this stone. They’re trying to make something that appeals to both people for whom this is their first Terminator and people for whom this is their latest Terminator and it just doesn’t work. The newbies don’t have any emotional investment in these characters and the Terminator fans don’t like it that all the old movies were rendered meaningless to prop up Grace and Dani.

Hilariously enough, I actually played Terminator: Resistance recently, which is a fun little mid-tier shooter that was meant to tie in to this movie... and it completely ignores all the Dani/Grace/Legion BS to take place in John Connor’s future war and tie in to the first two movies. That’s how forgettable this movie is. Its own damn video game adaptation pretends it doesn’t exist. Fuuuck.

Oh! Oh! Oh! And in that big, bad, sexist original Terminator, which was so unwoke and problematic, Sarah saved herself and finished off the Terminator herself. Here, Dani has to be saved by Arnold at the climax. The 35-year-old movie is more feminist than this one. Fuck you very much.

[addercharmer]

The first week of classes was pretty uneventful, Izumi was glad that nothing of note was really happening. 

It wasn't until the second week that realization hit Izumi right in the face. The chalkboard had the date written on it, thirty-seventeen, September thirteen. 

It was a Friday, and Izumi felt like a complete idiot. 

The class of twelve was all waiting for their English teacher, some hero Izumi was not fond of in any way, he only ever spoke to the males in the class, he was a sexist jerk and Izumi refused to do anything in his class. 

She stared blankly at the board for a few minutes before she dove for her bag, she needed to check, she needed to know if she would be born, she also needed to know if her classmates were born. 

With frantic movements she tried to jerk her laptop out of her bag, she couldn't get the zipper working, her hands were shaking too much. 

Izumi let out a sound of wounded animal, and suddenly there was another set of hands on her bag, brushing her shaking fingers out of the way. 

"What do you need?" Shirakumo asked calmly as he got her zipper open. 

Far too distracted to speak properly, Izumi flashed the JSL sign for computer, Shirakumo looked at her hands confused. 

"Computer." Yamada translated for her, she hadn't known that he knew JSL. 

Izumi nodded at a speed she was sure would give anyone else whiplash.

Shirakumo had the machine on her desk and open in moments; she wasn't sure how she would explain her sudden scramble for her computer, but the boys knew she pretty much lived on the thing. 

With shaking hands she put in the password that she needed, it was an odd algorithm that she had created to cycle through hero names and pictures of the representation of their quirk. 

Once her home screen was up she automatically clicked on the worm she had put in the health records of Japan. It was just a small thing that allowed her to search at any time for any given thing that was in the records. 

She quickly navigated to the search by name option, she hesitated for a moment before she started searching for the names of her old class. 

With every name that showed a healthy baby her heart felt a little lighter. She had one last name to look for, her own when she heard her name being called. 

"Nezu, I don't care if your father is a teacher here, that doesn't mean you can ignore my lessons." The teacher snapped at her. 

Izumi felt a bubble of anger in her stomach, she didn't even think as she spoke in perfect English. "No, it doesn't. In that you are correct. But my BA in English and my teaching license does mean I can ignore you. Hell, I could teach you a thing or two." 

Izumi looked at the board where the teacher had an improper sentence written. "You've used the wrong word. It should be T.H.E.Y. apostrophe R.E. not T.H.E.I.R." She corrected, still speaking in English and went back to her laptop ignoring the teachers sputtering. 

Taking a deep breath Izumi finally put her birth name into the search bar, when nothing was found she just searched her original last name. 

Her heart clenched a little at not finding anything, not even an alternative possibility of herself. 

Izumi snapped her laptop closed and grabbed her bag and the machine. She knew she was being irrational, but she needed Nezu. 

With her possessions in her grasp she took off out of the classroom at a quick jog. 

Izumi knew that from her class to the teachers lounge would only take ten minutes, but it felt like no time at all. She didn't knock when she arrived, just threw open the door and made her way to her dad before she crumpled on her knees, and dropped her head in Nezu's lap. 

"Pup?" She heard the stoat ask, the concern in his voice helped a little but it wasn't enough to pull her out. 

Izumi didn't bother to speak, she just opened her laptop, put in the new password and handed it to her guardian. She hadn't bothered to exit out of her search, it was still available for him to see. 

"Oh, I see." Nezu whispered, then his claws were in her hair and scratching lightly on her skelp. 

Izumi couldn't find it in herself to hold it together any longer, her crying was completely silent as Nezu kept petting her. She got lost in the static of her own thoughts and drifted. 

Hours later Izumi resurfaced to the English teacher arguing with her father, the man was annoying. 

"Oh shut up you pompous ass. I corrected you because you were wrong. Take it like a man or fuck off." She snapped at the teacher, she did not want to deal with this right now. 

The man sputters again and growls, Izumi feels him grab her bicep and pull her up, then there is a stinging pain on her cheek. 

"Zaraki! My office now!" She hears the current principal yell before she's dropped on the ground like a sack of garbage. 

Nezu is next to her in a flurry of movement, his soft paw pads pressing on her hot cheek. She looks at him, his furry face is set in an absolutely feral snarl. Izumi just closed her eyes again and goes limp. 

The next time she surfaces from the storm of her mind it's to Nezu and three familiar voices speaking. 

"Ah, yes. It was the anniversary of her coming into my care recently passed, I usually keep her busy enough that she forgets." Nezu says, he sounds calm, good. 

"So she was so frantic to check on?" Shirakumo asked, he's fishing and Izumi kinda wants to hit him. 

"Ah, well the appeal period is now in effect." Nezu is sketchy as hell, but his idea is sound, Izumi files it away. 

"Oh! What can we do to help?" Yamada sounds so worried, Izumi didn't think he cared that much, that any of them cared that much. 

"I'll take her to meet my other friend, I think she would love Nezu-san." Aizawa grunted, even he sounded worried. 

"That would be Kayama Nemuri from class two-B?" Nezu asks, she knows he knows she's awake. 

Izumi groans as she opens her eyes, she's laid on the couch in the staff room, her head in Nezu's lap and the others sprawled on the floor around her. 

"Hi guys." Izumi's voice cracks a little at having just regained consciousness. 

Both Yamada and Shirakumo jerk backwards as if they were surprised to hear her awake. 

The claws still carding through her hair are threatening to put Izumi back to sleep, but Aizawa's gruff voice breaks her out of it a little. 

"Problem female, You wanted to know where I disappear to at lunch. School is over, I want you to meet someone." 

"Just be home before dark." Nezu tells her, she hasn't actually been all the social in the two years she's been in the past and he seems happy for her to go out. 

With a slight grunt Izumi sits up and turns so her legs are off the couch. 

"Lead the way, Aizawa-kun." Izumi mumbles, she's still not all there but she's more present than before. 

They boys all clamour to their feet, all of them are a little uncoordinated, Izumi chalks it up to the fact that they are still growing. 

Izumi staggers a little when she stands, her knees are a little weak from all the emotional upheaval she's had. 

Shirakumo is quick to grab her elbow. "See I told you you would save me at some point." She quietly murmurs to the blue haired boy with a tired smile. 

Aizawa snorts from where he is standing by the door, he tips his head a little to hide his expression behind his hair. 

Shirakumo is still supporting her a little as they follow Aizawa out of the halls of the school, Izumi has never really gone this specific direction she has no idea their possible destination.