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dean-winchester-is-a-warrior · 2 months

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The Dangers of Hope Ch. 7

Series Summary: When Y/N shows up at Camp Chitaqua with her little girl in tow, her bloodshot eyes leave no doubt that she's infected. Or is she? Everything Dean has come to know for certain over the last five hellish years, is about to be challenged.

Pairings/Characters in the series: Endverse!Dean x Reader, Emma (OFC), Castiel, Sam Winchester, Lucifer, Michael, Zachariah, Risa, Johnston (OMC), Patrick (OMC), Theresa (OFC), other survivors and soldiers.

Series Explicit 18 +/Warnings: Show level violence, some gore, angst, smut, fluff all the usual for a series of mine. ❤️ Endverse!Dean (that's a warning for his anger and callousness as well as his extreme hotness. 😁) Each chapter will have their own specific warnings.

Chapter Warnings: Angst, bit of smut.

Word Count: 4,813

A/N: So, I've had this idea for quite a while. Basically since I watched The Last of Us. I loved Pedro in the role of Joel, but I kept thinking how incredible Jensen would have been. Which then made me think of how amazing he was as Endverse!Dean which then led me to this idea. Lol! I've stolen the premise of Ellie's storyline from TLOU, but made her a grown up, a reader insert, and a love interest for Dean.

If you've never seen TLOU, don't worry - you don't need to have seen it to understand this story. 😊

I've taken some liberties with the Endverse in my story, changed a few things from canon, but kept lots of things too.

I sincerely hope you enjoy the story. It will be ten chapters and I will do my very best to post one chapter every weekend. ❤️

A/N 2: Chapter 7 has arrived. 😊 I hope you enjoy it! Thanks so much to everyone who has been reading, liking, commenting and reblogging this series! It means SO much! ❤️

Series Master List || Main Master List || Tag Lists

The dividers below were created by @saradika

Three and a half weeks later

“And these would be beside every tent?” Dean asked Brandy as he looked at the rough drawings she’d made of her latest idea.

She nodded. “Yeah, on the West side of every tent. It would mean families don’t have to come to Food Storage every few days for more rations, and once the deep snow comes that’s gonna be a huge benefit for folks. Plus it’s easier for people to plan ahead and stretch their food if they have two weeks worth of rations sitting outside their tent. I mean, it won’t work once spring comes, but that’s a problem for spring.”

Dean nodded. He looked at their builders, the group of half a dozen survivors that were tasked with providing new buildings and necessities as the camp required. They’d built the sheds earlier in the year, the chicken coop last summer and were currently finishing up a small barn for the cow.

“Is this gonna interfere with completing the barn?” He asked, nodding at Brandy’s drawings.

One of the women, he was pretty sure her name was Vanessa, shook her head. “No, we’ll be finished with the barn in a couple of days, and be able to get Lily settled for the winter all snug, and then move on to the food sheds.” She looked at the drawing again and shrugged. “They’re small enough that we should be able to get them all done within a few weeks?”

She looked to the rest of the builders who nodded their agreement.

Dean frowned. “Lily?”

Vanessa grinned. “Yeah, sorry that’s what the kids have dubbed our little cow. Y/N has them going to visit her once a week so Ralph can teach them about farming.” She said, referring to the old farmer who had helped to plant the winter vegetables.

Dean felt his stomach twist as it always did when someone brought up her name. But he just nodded. “Okay, good. Get started on the food sheds as soon as you’re able. The deep snow is gonna come in the next couple weeks. It’d be good to have them all done by then.”

They all gave a chorus of “Okay, Boss” or “Sure thing Boss” as they nodded and took their leave. They wrapped their scarves tight and pulled on their mittens. The deep snow may not have come yet, but the ground was layered in white, and winter was sharp and stinging in the late November air.

Brandy gathered up her drawings and was headed out when Dean called her back.

“Brandy?”

She turned back to him, an eyebrow raised in question. They'd never discussed their meeting in the cabin with Y/N, but he'd noticed a slightly colder demeanor from her lately.

And he knew why, of course.

Brandy had been one of the original dozen survivors who had built the camp together. She'd been an incredible asset from the beginning, and they probably wouldn't have survived without her planning and strategies for running the camp. He and the soldiers may have kept the survivors alive, but Brandy kept them living by organizing and planning for their food and shelter. She was an invaluable member of the camp.

But three weeks ago he'd treated her like a servant meant to do his bidding. He knew he owed her an apology, but it had been so long since he'd apologized for anything that it stuck in his throat.

Now she contemplated him, waiting for him to speak, and he just nodded. He pointed towards her drawings.

“This is a good idea.” He cleared his throat. “So, thanks.”

Brandy stared a moment longer before a small smile twitched at the corners of her mouth. She nodded.

“No problem, Boss. That's what we're all here for, right?”

Dean just nodded and she lifted her scarf over her face and left the big cabin where Dean conducted most of his business these days, since it was warmer than his tent and could fit more people.

As he ran a hand over his face, the door opened again and most of his soldiers tromped inside. They were there to talk about security and possible threats, but Dean immediately looked at Johnston.

“Hey, did you tell her I want to see her?”

The thin man nodded vigorously. “Yes sir. I told her yesterday. Has…has she not come to see you yet?” He looked around the room as though Y/N might be hiding somewhere.

Dean shook his head. “No, she hasn't.” He pointed towards the door. “So why don't you go get her and tell her I expect to see her now.”

Johnston looked wary and as though he definitely didn't want to follow that order. But when Dean just stared him down, he turned and left quickly.

The rest of his soldiers began giving their reports about any problems they were having at the outposts, like equipment that needed repair or items that needed replenishing. But Dean was only half listening; his gaze kept straying to the door, waiting for Y/N to show.

Ten minutes later, Patrick was briefing him and Dean tried to focus on what he was saying.

“Williams has seen the group twice now, but -” Patrick cut himself off as Y/N and Johnston pushed through the door.

Y/N smiled at the soldiers as she came in. “Sorry to interrupt, but apparently I was summoned.”

She cut her glance to Dean and her smile turned brittle.

“I was told you needed to see me.”

“Yeah, since yesterday.” Dean responded, hardening his voice in an attempt to not seem desperate, especially in front of his soldiers.

“Sorry. Busy.” Was Y/N's curt reply. “What do you need?”

Dean took a deep breath. “I just wanted to know how you're -” he altered his words, “your school, or, uh, the school was going?”

Y/N paused for a moment before answering with a shrug.

“Fine.”

When it was clear that was all she was going to say, Dean scowled at her. “You wanna elaborate on that?”

She raised her chin a fraction. “Oh, I'm sorry, Boss, I don’t have anything else to say right now, but I’ll be sure to write out a full report for next week.”

Her eyes shot daggers that found their mark, bringing a pain to his chest that he felt a lot these days. He’d thought it might go away if he could talk to her, see her, but it was just worse with her there.

He shook his head. “That won't be necessary.” He said quietly.

“Anything else then, Sir?”

He'd never hated that moniker more. “No, that's it.”

She spun on her heel and walked out of the cabin. Silence reigned when she left. Dean waved at everyone else. “We'll finish this another time.” When they didn't immediately move, he made his voice a bit sharper.

“Dismissed.”

That got them moving and they all shuffled their way out the door - all except Risa. She closed the door behind her fellow soldiers and then turned back to face Dean.

He caught her eye and lifted his hands. “What?”

She shook her head slowly. “You're such an idiot.”

Dean dropped his hands and raised an eyebrow. “Wanna try that again?”

Risa shook her head as she walked back to him. “No, I said what I said.”

Dean gave her a look of annoyance as she reached him and leaned one hip on the table where he stood. She raised her hand to his cheek, her countenance softening.

“I really wanted to be the one.”

Dean scowled in confusion. “The one what?”

Risa pushed her fingers through his short hair. “The one to make you smile.” There was a long pause between them and Dean had no idea how to respond to that. She shook her head and stood up straight, dropping her hand. “But, it was obviously meant to be her.”

Dean scoffed. “What are you talking about?”

“Y/N. You know I'm talking about Y/N.”

He gave a short burst of sarcastic, humorless laughter. “Yeah, right. You think Y/N's gonna make me smile? I've done nothing but pull my hair out since she got here, so ..” He trailed off and looked away from Risa's knowing gaze.

Risa nodded. “Yeah, cause you're an idiot.” She reiterated.

When he looked back at her, Risa was smiling softly and wistfully. “Apologize to her, idiot. Try to get back what you've nearly lost. She's pissed, don't get me wrong, it might take some real groveling on your part but,” she nodded, “she has a very kind heart, so she might forgive you. It's definitely worth a try.”

Dean stared at her for a moment before he looked down at the ground, conceding the truth in her words. “I don't know how to do it.”

Risa gave a gentle laugh. “You're a smart guy. Bet you'll figure it out.”

She put her hand on his cheek again, resting the other on his chest as she stood on tiptoe to reach his lips. She placed a light, lingering kiss there and then pulled away.

“Goodbye, Dean.”

Dean felt a jolt of worry at the farewell. “You’re leaving? Am I losing a soldier?”

She smiled and shook her head. “No, the soldier is staying. I'm saying goodbye to the woman I wanted to be for you. And the man that she…cared about a lot. I hope he lets himself be happy.”

Dean frowned, feeling the weight of her goodbye, with all of its disappointed hopes.

“Goodbye Risa.” He said, and knowing it wasn't enough, he cupped her cheeks in his hands and kissed her lips, light and brief. “Thank you…for being the woman you are.”

He thought he saw a glimmer of moisture in her eye, but she blinked it away quickly and pulled out from under his hands. She moved to the door in a few strides and, with one last smile thrown over her shoulder, she walked away.

***

That afternoon as the winter sun headed into the west, Dean made the decision to go talk to Y/N. This was ridiculous. They were a camp of less than 150 people, continuing to try and avoid each other was impractical.

He'd just go tell her that.

He walked to the school because she was usually still there this time of day. But when he got there, the schoolroom was empty. He looked around the space that he hadn't seen in over a month and had to shake his head.

What had been a cold empty shed not even three months ago was now a warm, inviting, cozy space. She'd had a little camp stove installed, and on the Northern wall, replacing the fall leaves that had been there, was a giant, beautifully sewn quilt. He recognized it as the same design as the one that hung in the big cabin.

Hannah, who was Ralph-the-farmer's wife, had made it out of old scraps of material. It took a long time to gather enough scraps for a whole quilt so he knew this quilt probably took her months of hard work. But of course she'd gifted it to Y/N and the school. That's what Y/N brought out in people - hard work and generosity.

The small wooden table in the room had four chairs around it now and he wondered where she'd snagged the other two chairs.

The kids’ blanket seating had been enhanced slightly with the addition of a few pillows, and on the western wall, beside the old map, two long, weathered planks of wood had been nailed in place to serve as bookshelves. The books he'd brought back had been placed lovingly on the shelves, not a single corner bent on any of them.

He sighed at the changes and felt a warmth flare to life in his heart. Y/N did this too - seeming to warm the spaces around her without trying.

He walked out of the schoolroom and was just starting to walk back to his tent when he heard high pitched giggles coming from the side of the school just seconds before three small bodies hurtled forward, chasing and grabbing on to one another - Emma and her two little friends. He couldn't remember their names.

When they all saw him, the laughter fell away and Emma's eyes got wide, fear and suspicion filling them instantly. It felt like a punch when he remembered the way she'd climbed up on the chair beside him that one time, shy acceptance in her expression as she asked him to read to her.

He hated that she was so scared of him; he had to try and fix that much, at least.

“Hi girls.” He said in what he hoped was a friendly sounding voice. Emma's friends nodded and waved at him slightly. But Emma stayed on high alert.

He looked at her two friends. “I need to talk to Emma, so you girls head on home now.”

They looked to Emma who looked more scared than ever. But she whispered goodbye to them and they ran off.

Dean got a bit closer to her and went down on his haunches. He took a second to think what to say to her.

“You know, you don't have to be scared of me.”

“I'm not.” Emma said quickly while her big blue eyes were shrouded in fear.

Dean nodded. “Okay, good because…” He struggled to find the words that would help. “Cause I thought maybe I scared you a bit before. When I, uh, needed to talk to your mom alone.”

Emma nodded, the suspicion growing in her gaze. “When you were mad at Mommy.”

Dean shook his head. “No, I wasn't mad.”

Emma gave him a look that said she didn't believe him and he conceded with a nod.

“Okay, I was a little…upset, but I was just…confused. Eventually everything got figured out.”

She didn't say anything, clearly still highly skeptical.

Dean took a deep breath and decided to just go for it. “Anyway, I didn't mean to scare you and I'm…sorry about it.” He cleared his throat. “And I promise not to scare you like that again. Okay?”

Emma stared at him for a long time and he kept hold of her earnest blue gaze throughout her scrutiny. Slowly a smile spread across her face.

“Okay.” She said, accepting him at his word. “Then can you come over again for supper tonight? I can read a bunch of words now, mommy taught me in the books. So, I could help you read the story this time.”

Dean shook his head at the speedy ways of forgiveness in a child's heart, and for the first time in more years than he could remember, a small smile turned up one side of his mouth.

He reached out to pat her cold cheek. “I'm not sure, kiddo. We'll have to wait and see.” Emma was about to argue the point but Dean stood up. “Now it's gonna be dark soon and it's way too cold for you to be out here without a scarf. Don't you have one?” He asked.

Emma nodded. “Yeah, but I don't like it. It itches.”

Dean hummed. “Ah, yeah wool does that sometimes.” He unwound his own scarf from around his neck.

“Here, I'll trade you.” He said as he wound the polyester scarf around her neck and up over her cheeks. “Now, you head home.”

Emma's eyes were bright and happy above her new scarf as she danced away, skipping through the light snow that blanketed the ground.

He watched her go for a moment before turning back to head home himself. But he stopped dead in his tracks as he saw Y/N standing in the path with an arm full of wood. Silence reigned for nearly a full minute. Finally he reached forward to take the wood, but Y/N shook her head.

“No, I’m fine.” She nodded toward the school. “Just stocking up for tomorrow.”

“Right.”

More silence. Y/N’s voice was quiet when she finally spoke. “Thank you for the scarf. It’s been impossible to get her to wear one.”

He nodded and then realized something. “How long were you standing there?”

Y/N took a deep breath, answering on an exhale. “Since just before you promised my daughter not to scare the shit out of her again.”

Dean nodded and closed his eyes. “So, basically the whole time.”

“Yeah, basically.” She took a beat pause. “Thank you for that.”

Dean nodded. She walked towards the school again but before she could close the door and shut him out, Dean called to her, knowing his voice sounded desperate.

“I needed to believe it.”

Y/N turned in the doorway, a frown on her face. “Needed to believe what?”

He took a step closer, feeling choked by all the words he wanted to say that wouldn’t form properly in his mind. Y/N stared at him for a moment more before huffing slightly and walking into the schoolroom. He followed her inside, closing the door against the wind as she dropped the pile of wood into a metal bucket by the stove.

When she turned back to face him, she was scowling. “Dean, I don’t know what you want here. What do you want me to say?”

He shook his head. He didn’t want her to say anything. He wanted to say things, so many things. “No, nothing.” He croaked out.

She crossed her arms over her chest, bunching up her too big jacket. “Then what are you doing here?”

He took deep breaths in through his nose, pushing the words out through a closed throat. “I needed to believe it.” He said again, quieter this time.

“Believe what?” Y/N asked in frustration.

He stepped close to her and she took a step back before refusing to retreat. He gazed at her and wished more than anything that she really could just see inside his head so he wouldn’t have to try and get it out.

But he looked at the ground quickly and then back at her. His breathing was slightly labored and his voice was thin as he spoke. “You’re so dangerous to me, Y/N.”

He knew he said the wrong words when her forehead wrinkled into a deep frown and she nodded. “Because - I’m a psychic monster? Or because I’m a croat? Why exactly am I dangerous this time?”

“Because you’re you.” Dean answered loudly, speaking over the end of her question. He sighed in frustration; he was getting all of this wrong. He looked up to the heavens, as though they could possibly help him, and tried again, speaking softer.

“I needed to believe that you could control my mind or my…my feelings because…” He trailed off and looked at Y/N hoping she’d just know what he was saying and finish the sentence for him. But she was still just frowning in confusion.

“Because,” he continued, “my feelings when I'm around you are…dangerous. For me, I mean, they’re dangerous. Y/N I can’t…” He shook his head. “The way you look at the world? And the way you change how I see it too? It’s so fucking dangerous.”

He waved his hand, trying to encompass everything. “This world is ugly and shitty, and fucking ended! We literally lived through the end of the world, and now all that’s left is this - this dark, violent, bullshit reality.”

He shook his head and his voice was filled with awe. “Yet somehow you move through it like this,” again he struggled for the words to describe her, “like some kind of lighthouse, like a refuge for every cold, lost thing. And I - “

He cut himself off, not sure he was making any sense. But Y/N had stopped frowning and was now just contemplating him.

He shrugged. “And when I’m around you, I feel warmer than I’ve felt in years, brighter.” He shook his head and moved away from her, embarrassed by his confession and knowing he wasn't saying it right.

He stared at the map as he spoke. “So, I needed to believe that the feelings weren’t real, that you’d just forced me to feel that way. Because if the feelings and thoughts you bring out of me are real?” His shoulders slumped. “God, I’m so fucked.”

He felt Y/N come up to stand just behind him on his right, but he stayed staring at the map as she spoke.

“Why? What’s so dangerous about warmth and light?”

His voice was barely audible as he answered slowly. “Because they bring hope. And hope is a lie. It’s a lie I believed for a long time, a lie I clung to. The lie of possibilities, of family, of good conquering evil. And when the lie was revealed and the world fell apart, the truth almost killed me.”

After a moment he turned to face her and felt his heart skip as he saw her expression of sadness and the tears that sparkled in her eyes, even in the growing dusk.

He lifted a hand to cup her cheek and thumbed away a tear as it fell over her bottom lashes. “And Y/N, if I allow myself to hope again, and it gets crushed by the world again…” He shook his head. “I won’t survive it, I know I won’t.”

He took a step closer to her and felt her warmth penetrating his cold bones. She grabbed his free hand and held it in both of hers as he dropped his other hand from her cheek.

“Or…” she said, her voice filled with conviction, “or we can both hope, both fight, and both win. Even if we never get big wins, the little ones still count. And they add up. Every day we’re here alive is a win. Every time we smile at someone and they smile back is a win. Every time the sun shines so bright you have to close your eyes, every time we hear Emma giggle, every time our stomachs are full, every time we do something to make our home here better - every small thing adds up to big wins.”

Dean shook his head. He knew that trying to resist the pull of her light and life was pointless; she’d been pulling him out of the dark, and changing his plans since the moment she’d come into his life.

He used their connected hands to pull her tight against him and watched heat enter her beautiful, red-ringed eyes.

He bent his head, but before his lips touched hers, he whispered words that came much easier now. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. For all of it. I’m so sorry.”

Another tear fell down her cheek and she smiled and bit her lip. “If I say you’re forgiven will you kiss me?”

He pretended to mull it over and then nodded. “Yes, I think that’s fair.”

In the dusky twilight around them he pulled her close and pressed his lips to hers; his arms tightened around her as she moaned softly.

He was definitely counting that sound as a win.

***

Over the next month Dean resumed his dinners with Y/N, the difference being that he was there nearly every night, and he’d stopped pretending to himself that he didn’t relish every moment with her and Emma.

Over the evenings spent together, Emma had warmed more and more to him so that now she ran to meet him every time he walked through their tent flap, holding her arms up so he’d pick her up and toss her up into the air, catching her in a swooping motion as she came down. It made Y/N gasp every time, but Emma squealed with delight. He’d set her down and she’d grab his hand, nearly three times the size of hers, and pull him over to the table.

He’d take off his heavy canvas jacket within the relative warmth of the tent, and drape it over Emma’s shoulders, making her giggle as she drowned inside it.

They’d sit around the table and share the day's events, though Emma usually did the majority of the talking. It always brought a mixture of feelings when he listened to her bubbly, excited stories. It made him happy and terrified at the same time. She was so precious he couldn’t help but smile, an expression that was becoming easier for him as the days went by. But also, his chest felt tight and he could feel terror creep in as the darkness whispered a warning, telling him that he couldn’t possibly keep her safe. He’d lose her, and Y/N too.

Sometimes that thought woke him from a deep sleep and made him shake and sweat. It was proving incredibly difficult to make all his fears go away. But as soon as he saw Y/N’s smile the next day, it felt easier.

In fact it was becoming increasingly difficult to go home at all, to leave her warm cozy tent and return to his dismal gray one. But they were trying to be careful and move slowly in deference to Emma. They didn’t want her to feel confused or unsure of things now that she finally seemed so at ease.

So they hid their kisses and their caresses until after Emma was sleeping, at which point they’d usually try and brave the cold long enough to enjoy some alone time, even if it was encumbered by bulky jackets and scarves. They never had enough time, but they’d managed slightly more satisfactory make out sessions in the empty school and in Dean’s tent. But they were always too rushed and things had to end too quickly.

Dean ached for her more and more every day.

One evening in mid December, the air was much milder than usual; the day had been unseasonably warm and the night held on to a trace of it. Dean had Y/N pressed up against the side of the thick canvas tent, sucking on the soft skin just below her ear. As her breath caught and she angled her head so that he had better access, he was practically vibrating with how badly he needed to feel her.

As he breathed into her mouth, he slowly unzipped her jeans, letting her tell him no if she wanted. But she just nodded and bit her lip.

He watched her face as he slipped his fingers under the waistband of the leggings she wore as an extra layer against the cold, and then down into her panties. He desperately tried to stifle the moan that wanted to escape as he felt how soaking wet she was for him.

“Goddamn.” He whispered roughly as he slid two fingers inside her, rubbing his thumb against her little bundle of nerves and making her bite harder into her lip to keep quiet. He decided to help her out and closed his mouth over hers, swallowing up her small moans.

He pushed in and out of her body, his cock hardening as she gripped his forearm where it disappeared into her pants while her cunt clenched tight around his fingers. He passed his fingers over her sweet spot a couple of times and she fell over the edge. She broke off their kiss to bury a scream in his neck, muffling it with his thick collar.

As she came down she clung to him, her hot breaths creating puffs of white in the cold air. She moved her hand to cup his hard on through his jeans and was just reaching for his zipper when they suddenly heard Cas’ voice inside the tent.

“Emma, where is your mother and Dean?”

Dean groaned. What the fuck? Y/N squeaked slightly and pulled her hand back, making him absolutely throb with need. He was gonna slaughter his best friend.

They were quickly righting their clothing when Emma's voice reached them, and it didn’t really sound like she’d been sleeping.

“They’re outside the tent, kissing each other.”

Y/N’s eyes got huge and round and Dean stifled a snorted laugh behind his palm while she slapped his bicep.

“It’s not funny. Jesus, we’re gonna traumatize her!” She said in a horrified whisper.

Suddenly Cas’ head poked around the side of the tent and he frowned. “Are you finished kissing?”

Y/N buried her head in Dean’s chest and Dean scowled at the angel. “Well, we sure as hell are now.”

Cas nodded, completely ignoring Dean’s frustration. “Good. You need to come inside. I have incredible news.”

Dean sighed and rolled his eyes. “What news, Cas?”

The angel’s smile was surprising in its rarity and it made Dean raise an eyebrow.

“I know why Y/N isn’t a psychic.”

Jensen RPF and Any/All Characters: @lyarr24 @lacilou @deans-spinster-witch @globetrotter28 @suckitands33 @akshi8278 @evznackles @jackles010378 @impala67rollingthroughtown @krazykelly @candy-coated-misery0731 @envyaurora95 @spnwoman @deans-baby-momma

Dean Fics Only: @roonthelittlespoon920 @slamminmine @zepskies @safiyas-world

Any/All Fics Regardless of Character or Fandom: @kazsrm67 @slut-for-evans-stan @sexyvixen7 @nancymcl @hobby27 @waywardcheshire

Everything Incl. Fan Edits: @k-slla @leigh70 @eevvvaa @kickingitwithkirk @foxyjwls007 @notinthislife50 @roseblue373 @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @avanatural @mrsjenniferwinchester @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone @deangirl96

#endverse!dean #endverse!dean x reader #dean winchester smut #endverse!dean series #endverse!dean fan fiction #dean winchester #dean x reader

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spnhunter4life · 1 year

Text

Familiar

Summary: Sam, Dean and Y/N are on a case, and it turns out Y/N is just the monster's type.

Word Count: 8.2k

Warnings: reference to nonconsensual sex, canon typical violence

A/N: I've had this one done for a couple of weeks, but things have been very busy and so I just finally got around to doing a reread/edit of it. I hope everyone enjoys it!

This one includes the writing prompt "character A flipping positions and shoving B against a wall 'now this seems more familiar doesn’t it?'"

I don't remember where I found this. I have a list of prompts I saved, but didn't include who posted them, so if you happen to know where this came from, let me know and I'll give credit to that person.

Also, I've had someone ask me to be tagged in new stories I post. I am happy to do this, so if anyone else is interested in being tagged, let me know!

Masterlist

I met the Winchesters for the first time five years ago when I was 22. I was in college and had just moved to a new dorm building that turned out to be haunted by a ghost. I had been the next intended target when Dean and his dad stepped in and saved me. That was the last time I would see either of them for a long time, but I never forgot the faces of the people who had saved my life.

After that experience, I was obsessed with the supernatural. Dean and I had talked a little bit before they left town, and he told me about how he and his dad traveled the country killing monsters. I wanted to do that too. I wanted to be able to save people’s lives the way they had saved mine.

So a couple months later I dropped out of school and started getting ready to hunt. I signed up for a gym membership and started going everyday as well as taking boxing and Krav Maga lessons. My life had given very little opportunity for me to build muscle or learn to fight. But I wasn’t stupid enough to go into a fight with a supernaturally strong creature completely unprepared.

I gave myself a year to get in shape and learn to defend myself. During this time, I put every spare minute I had into research. I looked into what kinds of monsters were out there, how to kill them, which ones were most common. While doing all this research, I ran into a man named Bobby Singer. He had all kinds of helpful information and taught me how to track them down. I started the process of purchasing weapons I would need and also saving up money.

Once I felt ready, I set off on my first hunt. The overwhelming satisfaction I felt at saving a person from the ghost that had been haunting them was too much to ignore. I knew without a doubt now that this is what I should be doing with my life. So I went on another hunt. And another.

Things were a little rough going at first and I got more injuries than I cared to admit – fighting a trained professional in a controlled environment wasn’t the same as going up against an angry monster – but my fighting skills improved and things started going smoother soon enough. I didn’t regret my choices.

I ran into Dean a little over a year later. I was looking into what I suspected to be a witch and had stopped for lunch at a local burger joint when I saw him. I recognized him immediately and went to talk to him. It took a little bit for him to remember me, but he did. When he asked what I was doing so far from home, I told him what I’d been up to since the day he saved my life. He seemed surprised and impressed. Apparently the people he saved didn’t often take up hunting afterwards.

When I asked after his dad, he told me that they were starting to work separate cases on occasion. They still hunted together too, but not as often.

Since we were both in town for the same reason, we agreed to work the case together. It was difficult at times, learning to rely on another person and factor their thoughts and opinions into what we were doing. I’d never hunted with someone else before. In other ways, though, it was so much easier. I decided I kind of liked having a partner. Dean and I worked well together.

He must have thought so too, because the day after we finished that hunt, he asked if I wanted to come with him to look into a string of suspicious murders a couple states over. I’d been hunting with him – and occasionally his dad – ever since.

About nine months into our new arrangement, his dad went missing and so we picked up his brother Sam from school to help find him. Adding him to the mix had been another adjustment. That was two years ago now though, and we’d all found an easy rhythm together.

“We should go check this out,” Dean said, sliding the newspaper he’d been looking at across the table to Sam and pointing at one of the articles.

We were at a diner waiting for our breakfast to be brought out. Sam scanned the article.

“I don’t know, Dean,” Sam said, passing the newspaper to me when I motioned for it. I skimmed the article Dean had found.

“Come on, Sam. Three murder suicides in under two weeks. That’s weird,” Dean insisted.

“It is weird. I just don’t see how it’s our kind of weird,” Sam answered.

“Y/N? What do you think? You agree with me, don’t you?” Dean asked, confident I’d back him up. We typically saw things pretty eye to eye. Not always though.

“Well, actually I agree with Sam. There’s nothing here that really makes it sound like our kind of thing. But,” I continued, saying the word a little louder to stop Dean’s protest. “It’s only a few hours away and we have nothing else to do right now. So we might as well go check it out.”

“Alright, fine,” Sam agreed, sighing at the triumphant look on Dean’s face. “But I really think we’re wasting our time.”

“Right. Because we’ve got much more important, productive things going on here,” Dean said sarcastically.

“It’s never a waste of time,” I said. “Even if it ends up being nothing, making sure people aren’t being killed by something supernatural isn’t a waste. What if we decide it’s not worth checking out and it turns out it is our kind of thing? Then those deaths would be on us.”

“Ok, yes, you’re right. I already said we could go check it out,” Sam said.

“Well thanks for the permission, Sammy. I really don’t think we could’ve moved forward without it,” Dean snarked.

“Bite me,” Sam answered.

“Alright, cut it out you two,” I scolded.

The waiter brought our food out and we spent the meal trying to come up with ideas of what we could be dealing with. We didn’t come up with much since we had so little information to go off of. Dean paid our bill and we were just heading out the door when something occurred to me.

“Oh! What if it’s a siren?” I suggested.

“A siren? From Greek mythology? Like in The Odyssey?” Dean asked.

“What?” Sam looked at his brother in surprise.

“What?” Dean asked, a little smug and a little offended.

“What do you know about sirens?” Sam asked me, moving past his shock at Dean’s knowledge.

“Not much,” I admitted. We reached the car and I climbed into my usual spot behind Sam. “All the vics have been couples though, right?” I asked.

“Yeah,” Dean confirmed, turning in his seat to face me. “Is that important?”

“All I really know about sirens is that once they infect you they convince you to kill someone you love. The only siren case I’ve heard of had several husbands killing their wives before it was stopped. So maybe in this case once the men realize what they’ve done, they kill themselves.”

“Seems like the best theory we’ve come up with,” Dean said. He backed the Impala out of the parking spot and headed out of town towards the highway.

“Let’s get there and do some digging around before we settle on a theory,” Sam cautioned. “But say you’re right. How do we kill it?”

“I don’t know. I’ve already given you the extent of my knowledge on the subject.”

“Okay. Well at least we have a starting point. We can look into it more if that still seems like the most likely scenario after we’ve investigated things a little bit,” Sam said.

Apparently deeming the conversation finished, Dean turned up the music. I leaned my head against the window and watched the road blurring by.

~~~~~

The bar we were at was crowded, the music was loud, and the guy I was talking to was cute. Not stop and stare cute, but cute enough that when he came over to where I was standing at the bar and started flirting, I flirted back.

“So how long are you in town for?” Cute guy asked. I vaguely noted Dean in my peripheral vision, making his way to the bar. If I’d been paying attention, I would have noticed how irritated he looked. But I was trying not to notice him. He and I were just friends and would never be more. I’d accepted that. It meant I couldn’t let myself be distracted by him when there was a guy standing right in front of me who was interested.

“Don’t know yet,” I answered, giving him my best flirty smile. “I’m definitely here for the night though.”

“Alright, that’s enough,” Dean interrupted. “Come on Y/N. Sam’s waiting for us.”

“Woah, hey, come on man,” cute guy protested. “You can’t just come in here and force her to leave. We were in the middle of a conversation.”

“You were, were you? Sorry pal, but we’ve got important things to do. Go find someone else to bother.” Dean grabbed my arm and pulled me with him, away from the bar and towards the exit.

“Dean!” I hissed as I was forced to follow along behind him. “What is your problem?” I asked when we made it outside.

“What’s my problem?” Dean echoed, letting go of my arm and turning to face me. “What’s your problem? You know what we’re after here. What made you think it was a good idea to offer to go home with some random guy who for all we know could be the siren?”

I scoffed and started to walk towards the car, but Dean grabbed me again and pushed me up against the building. He stepped in close and put an arm on either side of my head, effectively caging me in.

“What are you doing?” I asked. It didn’t sound quite as irritated as I wanted it to. His close proximity mixed with the few drinks I’d downed had me too overwhelmed to hold on to my anger.

“Next time you’re wanting to scratch an itch in the middle of a case where the monster we’re after seduces people into murder, just save us the trouble and come to me instead,” he instructed. Then before I knew what was happening, he leaned in and kissed me.

I gasped in surprise and he used the opportunity to lick into my mouth. Finally catching up to what was happening, I wrapped my arms around his neck, threading my fingers through his hair and eagerly kissing him back. I never could have predicted this, but I was so thrilled it was happening.

He made his way to my neck. He kissed a couple of different spots before finding a spot he liked and starting to suck and nip-

I woke up with a jolt and a gasp. I quickly took in my surroundings and realized I’d fallen asleep in the back of the Impala.

“You ok?” Dean asked, turning in his seat to look at me. I realized we were parked outside a motel. The engine turning off must have been what woke me. I briefly met his eyes and was immediately bombarded with the images from my dream.

“Yeah,” I told him. I managed to successfully fight the blush that tried to rise in the presence of the very man I’d just been dreaming about. It wasn’t the first time I’d had this sort of dream about the older Winchester. I doubted it would be the last.

Dean went inside to get us a room. We unloaded our bags and made a plan. We decided the boys would drop me off at the police station to talk to the sheriff while they went to question the medical examiner. We would meet at a diner a few blocks away from the police station when we were done.

“What’s the connection between all of these people?” I asked Sheriff Jones once I’d introduced myself and explained why I was there.

“Connection?” He asked.

“Yeah. This many murder suicides in this short of a time, there’s something going on here. Maybe you’re wrong about the suicide part and it’s just flat out murder. Maybe it’s some sort of messed up pact these people made. There has to be something that connects them though. So what is it?”

“As far as we can tell, there is no connection between any of them. Sometimes these things just happen,” he said.

“How long have you been sheriff?” I asked. He was starting to get up in age, probably in his mid to late 50s at a guess. I assumed he’d been a police officer for a long time.

“Almost 20 years,” he informed me proudly.

“And in those 20 years, how many times have you seen something like this? Three different couples killing each other and themselves. One after another.”

“Well… never,” he admitted.

“Right. So what’s the connection? Graduated from the same high school? Go to the same gym? In a bowling league together? There has to be something that connects them other than them all being married.”

“Actually, they weren’t all married,” Jones corrected.

“I was told they were,” I said.

“The last couple wasn’t. They were roommates, but as far as I’m aware, that’s as far as the relationship went.”

Damn. Did this throw a wrench in my siren theory? Not necessarily. Just because they weren’t together doesn’t mean one of them wasn’t secretly in love with the other. Or maybe they were really close and loved each other in a non romantic way.

“Great. I’m gonna need a list of close family and friends of all the victims,” I requested.

“What for?” He asked.

“To find the connection. You figure out the pattern, you have a chance of stopping it from happening again,” I said frustratedly. How were these idiots not investigating this further? Did they really believe it was just all a coincidence?

Jones gave me a list of names and I left. I scanned the list on my walk to the diner, trying to figure out where to start and how long it might take to talk to these people. I rounded a corner and ran into an extremely attractive man.

“Sorry!” I apologized as he nearly spilled the coffee he was carrying.

“No worries,” he said, flashing a charming smile. “No harm done.”

Had I not spent every day of the past three years sharing close quarters with the most attractive man I’d ever seen in my life, I might have been caught off guard and turned into a mumbling mess. But my time with Dean mixed with the quick thinking and lying that was sometimes necessary for hunting meant I was able to keep it together.

“Still. I should have been watching where I was going.”

“Well in that case, I was just on my way to get some lunch. How about you make it up to me by coming with?” He offered. It only took me a few seconds of consideration to make a decision.

“Sorry, but I’m busy. I’m on my way to meet a couple of colleagues for a kind of work lunch,” I told him.

“Ah. Well, maybe next time,” he smiled.

“Maybe,” I agreed, knowing there wouldn’t be a next time. I sighed as I continued my walk to the diner. He was awfully good looking. Under different circumstances, I probably would have taken him up on his offer.

I walked the last couple of blocks and noted that the familiar black car wasn’t in the parking lot. I went in, found an open table that would fit all three of us, and sat down. I had to wait about ten minutes before Sam and Dean walked in.

“Hey. What did you find out?” I asked once they were seated.

“Not much. There wasn’t anything unusual about the bodies as far as anyone could tell. The ME did say that based on the most recent body, she wondered if the suicides weren’t actually suicides though. She’s looking over the other two bodies again to see if it could have been staged to look like a suicide,” Sam told me.

“That qualifies as not much to you?” I asked. “I mean, granted it doesn’t really up the weird factor. But what if they missed something else too? Something they wouldn’t know to look for?”

“That’s exactly what I said,” Dean said smugly.

“Whatever. I’m not having this discussion again,” Sam told his brother as the waiter came over. We rattled off our orders to him and waited for him to leave before continuing.

“Did you find anything?” Sam asked.

“No. I do have a list of people for us to talk to though,” I answered. I took the list out of the pocket I’d tucked it into after folding it up and handed it to Sam.

“What, the cops have a suspect list?” Dean asked.

“No,” I snorted. “Whether or not this ends up being our kind of case, I feel bad for the people in this town. Their idiot sheriff doesn’t even think it’s worth looking into. It’s an open and shut case as far as he’s concerned.”

“What’s your list then?” Dean questioned, leaning over to read over Sam’s shoulder.

“Close family and friends,” I answered. “I’m hoping we can figure out what connects them all.”

“Right,” Sam said. “It’s not like we can monitor every single married couple in this town on the off chance they might get murdered.”

“Actually, they weren’t all married,” I told him. “I guess the last two were just roommates.”

“There goes the siren theory,” Dean sighed.

“Not necessarily. It still could be,” I said.

“How?”

“Sirens don’t target married people specifically,” I explained. “They just make you kill someone you love.”

“So you’re saying they were living together as friends but secretly in love?” Dean asked.

“Maybe. Or maybe not. Love doesn’t have to be romantic.”

The waiter brought out our food and we made a plan as we ate. Dean wanted to check out the crime scenes first. Sam argued that we might get more information from talking to people. I wanted to side with Dean because I really wasn’t looking forward to interviewing ten different people, but I had to agree with Sam. Might as well get this part out of the way. We could look at the victims’ houses after.

~~~~~

Several hours and too many interviews full of crying loved ones later, we stood in our motel room going over the information we’d gathered today. The ME had called an hour ago and confirmed that it was flat out murder, not murder suicide. We hadn’t gotten any useful information out of any of the people we talked to today though, and we were all a little frustrated.

“Alright, well the roommate vics were extremely close,” Sam recapped, thinking out loud. “Which means Y/N’s theory on them loving each other pans out, leaving a siren as the most likely culprit. But how are we supposed to find it? We still don’t have anything that links these people together,” Sam grumbled.

“And why is it killing people?” I added. “Usually they leave the killing to their victims. Maybe we missed something.”

“Or,” Dean cut in, standing up from the chair he’d been in. “We'll find the answers we need at the crime scenes. Which I said we should look at four hours ago.”

“Yeah, Dean. We know,” Sam snapped.

“Let’s just figure out our next step,” I interjected.

“Maybe we should do some research on sirens. It would be easier to track it if we can figure out where they live, how they make people do what they want, that sort of thing,” Sam suggested.

“C’mon Sam, we’ve spent all day doing research on the victims. Now you’re telling me you want to do more research?” Dean complained. “What we should do is go to their houses. I’m telling you, if we want answers, that’s where we’ll find them.”

“Maybe, but we still have to know what we’re up against,” Sam pointed out. “Why don’t you and Y/N go check out the houses. I’ll stay here and research,” he suggested.

“Fine. Let’s go,” Dean said, satisfied with this compromise. He went outside and I heard the Impala’s engine roar to life a few seconds later.

Sam grabbed his laptop and settled in to work while I grabbed my coat.

“Let us know if you find anything,” I said. Sam assured me he would and then I followed Dean out the door.

We decided to split up to cover ground faster. Dean would drop me off at the first house and head to the second house himself. When he was done there he would pick me up and we would look at the last place together.

Dean parked outside the first house, a small blue one with a row of flowers planted along the front of it.

“I’ll call you when I’m on my way back,” he told me as I was getting out of the car. He drove away and I walked into the house, ducking under the police tape strung up on the door.

The first room I walked through was the kitchen. Other than a few unwashed dishes in the sink, it was spotless. I knew the murders had happened in the bedroom, so I didn’t expect to see much in the rest of the house, but I was looking for any sort of clue that would lead us to the siren. I took a quick look at the pictures on the fridge but didn’t see anything that would help.

The next room was the living room which was also clean. A cursory scan of the room told me these two were huge movie fans. There were several movie posters hanging up on the walls, an entertainment center overflowing with DVDs, and a little box full of old movie tickets. I didn’t know how this could be a connection with the other couples, but it was clearly a big part of their lives, so it was worth making a mental note of. Other than that, I didn’t see much. A brochure for a yoga class stuck underneath a pile of magazines on the coffee table. A framed picture of the two skiing was hanging on the wall. I noticed a coffee mug with what I assumed was the name of a local bar printed on the side. I made another mental note of both the yoga class and the bar just in case.

Then I moved on to the bedroom. Even if I hadn’t known ahead of time what happened in here, it would have been pretty clear. There was a bloodstain on the bed and the blankets were rumpled, like there had been a struggle on top of them. One of the pillows was knocked on the floor. The nightstand on the left side of the bed had been knocked over, a picture frame shattered beside it. And there was a second blood stain on the cream carpet.

I braced myself, turning off the part of my brain that wanted to be horrified and turn away from the scene. I looked around the room for any sort of clue as to who the siren might be or where it might have gone. It would be a lot easier if I knew what exactly I was looking for. Sam was right. We should have done the research first.

After thoroughly searching the bedroom and the bathroom and finding nothing, I made my way back out of the house. I wasn’t quite ready to give up yet, but I was getting more doubtful that this wasn’t something the real FBI should be handling. I stepped back outside and saw the cute guy from earlier walking past. He heard the door close behind me and looked over.

“Oh, it’s you,” I said. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” he answered as I walked towards him. “I do believe that’s a crime scene you just walked out of. Not exactly legal.”

“It is when you’re FBI,” I told him, pulling out my badge. It identified me as agent Y/N Perry.

“That explains why I haven’t seen you around before,” he said, not seeming overly surprised by the news.

“What are you doing here?” I asked again.

“I live next door,” he told me. “I didn’t really know them. Terrible what happened though.”

“It is,” I agreed. My phone rang and I took it out of my pocket, seeing Sam’s name on the screen. I excused myself to answer it.

“Hey, Sam. What did you find?”

“Have you heard from Dean?” He asked urgently.

“No, why?” I asked, immediately worried. Before he could answer, everything went dark.

~~~~~

Sam’s POV

“What do you got, Sam?” Dean asked immediately upon answering my call.

“Not much, but I think I’m starting to figure out more about this siren,” I told him. I hadn’t had time to gather much information yet, but what I had found mixed with a quick phone call to the ME was starting to clear things up.

“Like what?”

“So get this. When sirens… put you under their spell or whatever, it leaves high levels of a hormone called oxytocin in your blood.”

“So?”

“So, I called the ME and asked her about it. There were high traces in three of the victims. The female victims. For whatever reason, this siren is going after the women, not the men.”

“Son of a bitch! Please tell me you called Y/N before you called me,” Dean said.

“Why? Aren’t you together?”

“No,” Dean growled out in a tone of voice that suggested stress and frustration. “We split up to move faster.”

“Alright. Well don’t worry. I’m sure she’s fine. I’ll call her now,” I said, trying to calm him.

“I’m going back to get her. I’ll call her on the way.”

Before I could argue that he was already worked up enough and should just focus on driving I heard a thump, Dean grunting, and then the sound of his phone clattering on the ground.

“Dean!” I yelled. No response. I hung up and headed outside. I needed to find a car. Once I had one ready to go, I started driving to the closest address on the list.

~~~~~

Y/N’s POV

The first thing that registered in my mind was the way my body was shaking. I heard a distant voice calling my name as consciousness slowly found me. It took a few seconds for me to fully wake up and process what was happening. The shaking was due to the hand on my shoulder, trying to jostle me into consciousness. The voice was Dean’s, and it wasn’t distant. It was right in front of me.

My head was pounding. I tried to remember what happened. I was outside waiting for Dean. Sam called. Then what?

“Y/N!” Dean said a little louder. I opened my eyes and immediately closed them again, hissing at the pain that shot through my skull from the bright light in the room. Someone must have hit me over the head. Who? No one else had even been around. Except for that guy I bumped into earlier. He must be the siren then.

I felt a surge of frustration at my stupidity. How did I miss it? I knew it was weird that he just happened to be outside that house.

“C’mon. We should get out of here,” Dean encouraged, pulling me to my feet.

“Just a minute,” I pleaded as a wave of dizziness rushed over me upon standing. I braced my hand on the wall beside me.

“What happened?” He asked. “You didn’t answer the phone.”

Once the dizziness passed, I slowly opened my eyes. The pounding in my head was intense, but it was more manageable when I took things slow.

“Where is he?” I asked.

“Who, the siren? Dead,” he told me. That was good news I guess. I didn’t know how much help I’d be in a fight right now. He was almost entirely supporting my weight. Then something occurred to me.

“How?” I asked, looking up at his face. “We don’t know how to kill them.”

“Well I had a machete with me. I couldn’t walk in here completely defenseless. When I saw him standing over you, I cut his head off. Apparently that’s all it takes,” he explained.

I looked around the room, searching for the body, and realized this was the house of the first murdered couple. We were in the living room.

“He brought me in here?” I asked.

“Well. It was close by. And there isn’t much chance of anyone walking in. Made it easy for me to find you, too. How are you feeling? Ready to go?” He asked.

“Yeah, I’m good,” I told him. My head was still pounding, but the dizziness was gone.

“Good,” he said, carefully turning me to face him. “I was really worried about you.” Then he kissed me.

I so badly wanted to be able to enjoy this. I’d dreamed about it so many times but never imagined I’d ever build up the courage to tell him how I felt. Or that my feelings would be reciprocated.

I placed one hand on the back of his neck and gave myself a couple of seconds to be sure my balance was good. Then in one quick motion I stepped to the side and used the hand around his neck to shove him face first into the wall.

“Ow! What the hell?!” He yelled, clutching a hand to his bleeding nose.

“Where’s Dean?” I asked, watching closely for any indication he was about to run or attack.

“I am Dean!” He insisted. He held a hand out placatingly and took a step towards me.

“Stay back,” I warned him. I reached into my boot and grabbed the silver knife I kept there at all times. “I know a shapeshifter when I see one.”

He dropped his hands and stood up straighter, a cocky smile gracing his mouth. He started to walk in a slow circle around me.

“What gave me away?” He asked casually.

“A few things,” I answered, rotating my body to keep him directly in front of me at all times.

“Like?”

“Where’s Dean?” I asked again.

“Oh, he’s fine for now. Just a little tied up at the moment,” he smirked.

I lunged for him, hoping to catch him by surprise. He easily blocked the knife I had aimed directly at his heart and threw a punch that caught me in the stomach. The force of the blow knocked the breath out of me, but I recovered quickly and slashed out with the knife at the hand that was reaching for my hair. He hissed in pain and quickly withdrew his hand.

“Don’t make this harder than it has to be,” the fake Dean growled. “You know you can’t win. Might as well save yourself some of the pain.”

My head was killing me and the dizziness was threatening to return and become a very serious problem. I waited for his next attack. I didn’t have to wait long. I saw his muscles tense to move and then he closed the distance between us quickly.

He reached out for the hand that was holding the knife, trying to force it out of my grip without touching it. I took advantage of the way he focused on the knife to kick his knee as hard as I could. His knee buckled and I used all the strength I had to push him into the wall behind him. I pressed the knife to his throat.

“Where is Dean?” I demanded.

“What gave me away?” He asked again. I couldn’t believe the arrogance. Did he really not care about anything but the fact that I’d seen through him?

“I’m not going to ask again,” I threatened, pressing the knife just a little harder into his skin. “Where is he?”

“Quid pro quo,” he offered. “Answer my question, I’ll answer yours.”

I seriously debated just killing him, but decided to humor him just this once. He wasn’t going anywhere and I’d get the answer out of him one way or another.

“First of all, Dean wouldn’t just sit there waiting for me to wake up. He would have just carried me out. Secondly, he has a scratch on his jaw that hasn’t healed all the way yet. That particular scratch is missing from your face. Third, if he’s not sure which weapon to bring with, he always chooses his gun. Silver kills a lot of things, so it’s usually the safest bet. Also, where’s the body? You said you killed the siren, but there isn’t a body. And as far as that goes, you don’t have a machete either.”

“Hmm. You’re observant,” he said. “Not observant enough though. Otherwise you probably would have seen this coming.”

His hand shot up and grabbed my wrist, pushing the knife away from his neck. He pressed hard on the tendons there until I was forced to drop the knife. Then he spun us around, pressing me up against the wall. He pinned both of my wrists to the wall and leaned in close, his breath brushing my face.

“Now this seems more familiar, doesn’t it?” He smiled.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I spat.

“No?” He mocked, pressing his cheek to mine and talking directly into my ear. “You’ve never dreamed about Dean pressing you into the nearest wall and kissing you breathless? I think you have. Many times. As recently as just a few hours ago.”

I whipped my head to the side to look at him. He grinned triumphantly.

“That’s right. I’ve been inside your head. I know exactly how you feel about this pretty boy of yours.”

I bristled at the way he had stolen Dean’s face, tried to use it against me, and was now flaunting that fact.

“You don’t know anything,” I spat. He just continued as if I hadn’t said anything.

“That’s why I chose you. It was pure coincidence running into you, but you’re a very attractive woman, so I figured I’d give it a shot.”

“Give what a shot? Murder? News flash, you’ve already done that. I’d suggest branching out and finding a new hobby.” I pushed lightly against his hands, testing the possibility of breaking free. That wasn’t an option. He was holding on tight, and I wouldn’t be able to beat him in a battle of strength.

He smiled and kept ignoring me.

“You see, I had to turn into you first to get in your head and see if you fit what I was looking for. It was a shock, of course, to find out that you’re a hunter. But it turns out you did fit my needs, and you and your friends were so far off the mark, I knew I’d be safe enough.”

“What do you mean, I fit your needs?” I asked. I had a plan to escape his hold, but as long as he was content to talk, I wanted answers.

“Well you’re in love of course,” he said.

“So?” I didn’t bother denying it. Like he said, he’d already been in my head.

“So,” he answered as if I was being extremely stupid. “Isn’t it so much better being with someone when you’re in love?”

I felt my brow wrinkle in confusion. Being with someone? What was he talking about? What did it have to do with murder?

I felt a wave of horror and disgust wash over me as I understood his meaning. He’d posed as the men the women were in love with and slept with them before murdering them both.

“If it’s any consolation, they died happy,” he told me. “Well,” he amended. “The women did, anyway.”

“So what?” I snarled. “You thought you’d come in here looking like Dean and I’d just take my clothes off for you? Just like that?”

“Well, not just like that. But I figured you’d be willing enough once I had some time to convince you.”

I remembered how he had kissed me before. I assume that was the kind of convincing he was referring to.

“We still could, you know,” he offered. He brushed his lips gently against mine and I jerked away. “You can pretend I’m him and I’ll give you what you’ve always wanted.”

“Right before you kill me, you mean?”

“Well obviously I can’t let you live,” he said.

“I think I’ll pass,” I said. I drove my knee up as hard as I could into his crotch. He may not have been entirely human, but he still went down as hard as any human man.

I dropped down to pick up my knife, doing my best to ignore the pain the quick movement caused in my head. I didn’t give the shapeshifter time to recover. I immediately turned to him and drove the knife into his heart. He gasped in shock and pain and then collapsed, unmoving.

I rose to my feet and made my way – a little unsteadily – out of the house. I was pretty sure I had a concussion and that fight had taken all the strength and energy I could muster. As I stepped out of the house, a car came screeching down the road and parked next to the only other car on the street. I didn’t know if I could really handle it, but I prepared myself for another fight.

The driver door opened and a tall man stepped out. Sam, I realized when he called my name. And the car he was in was the Impala. How had he gotten it? Sam ran over to me and put a steadying hand on my shoulder.

“Are you ok? What happened?” He asked.

“Where’s Dean?” I asked, ignoring his questions.

“I don’t know. I’ve been looking for both of you,” Sam said. “I found Dean’s car at the second house, but no sign of him. I was hoping I’d find him here with you.”

Just then we heard a muffled banging noise coming from the other car on the street.

“Stay here,” Sam told me, drawing his gun as he walked towards it. I was in no position to argue seeing as the dizziness was returning and I was struggling to keep my balance. He stopped by the trunk of the car. “Dean?”

“Sam! Get me out of here,” I heard Dean say from inside.

“Just a second,” Sam breathed out in relief. He tucked his gun back into his jeans and went around to the front of the car in search of the keys. He pulled them out of the ignition and then opened the trunk. Dean jumped out, fuming. He was down to just jeans and a t-shirt, the shifter having stolen the rest of his usual layers.

“Where is it? I’m gonna kill it,” he seethed, marching towards the house. He paused momentarily when he saw me swaying on the sidewalk and then hurried over to me. He wrapped my arm around his shoulders and put his own around my waist to help me stay balanced.

“What happened? Did the siren do something to you? Where is it?” He asked.

“It was a shapeshifter, not a siren,” I told both him and Sam who had followed close behind his brother.

“Was?” Sam questioned.

“It’s dead,” I said.

“That explains why my clothes are gone,” Dean said irritatedly. “Why is it that we seem to be leaving behind a trail of shapeshifter bodies wearing my face?”

“Well, you’re an objectively good looking guy. Maybe they just can’t resist all the girls they know they’ll get with a face like that,” I teased.

“Alright, well you’re obviously in even worse shape than I thought,” Dean said, half teasing half genuinely worried. I guess I haven’t ever said anything to him before about him being attractive. This concussion was loosening my tongue apparently. “Sam, you mind getting the body? I’m gonna get Wobbly here to the car.”

“Why can’t we just leave it?” Sam asked.

“Because I want my clothes back for one thing,” Dean replied. “And for another, I don’t want to be blamed for yet another set of murders.”

“Good point,” Sam agreed. He headed for the house.

Dean turned us towards the car and the movement caused me to trip a little on my own feet. The adrenaline was fading away, leaving me helpless to fight off the dizziness that I thought had disappeared.

Rather than let me stumble my way to the car, Dean moved the arm he had around my waist a little higher on my back and put his other arm under my knees, scooping me up in his arms and carrying me. I couldn’t be bothered to keep my head held up and rested it against his chest.

“What happened?” he asked, referring to my balance issues.

“He caught me by surprise and hit me over the head. I think I have a concussion.”

“You thought he was me, so you didn’t see it coming,” Dean said. He adjusted my weight so he was able to open the car door.

“No. He looked like someone else. I turned my back to take a call and he hit me. When I woke up he was pretending to be you,” I explained.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” he sighed as he gently set me down, careful not to hit my head.

“Why?” I wondered.

“He took me out too. Only I didn’t even know he was there. If I’d been paying attention better, I could have stopped him before he got to you,” Dean said, ashamed.

“Not everything is your fault, you know,” I told him. I saw Sam step out of the house, a large body tossed over his shoulder. “This isn’t on you. And it doesn’t matter anyway. It’s over.”

I could tell he didn’t agree with me and he would beat himself up over this for a while. But he left to open the trunk for Sam and I was too exhausted to try and convince him otherwise.

~~~~~

An hour later Sam was watching over me while Dean went to take care of the body. I sat on the lumpy couch and held a bag of frozen peas to the back of my head in an attempt to bring down the swelling. I’d taken Ibuprofen as soon as we got to the motel and both the headache and the dizziness were slowly starting to fade. I’m sure finally sitting still helped the situation too.

“Why do you think it killed them?” Sam wondered aloud. “I mean, how did he choose his victims?”

“He chose women that he considered beautiful and that were in love. He turned into the man they loved and when he was done with them, he killed them,” I answered even though he hadn’t actually been expecting an explanation.

“He told you?” He asked, surprised.

“In way too much detail,” I said.

He was quiet for a moment.

“You know what I don’t get? If it wasn’t a siren then where did the oxytocin come from?”

“The what?” I asked.

“Oxytocin. It’s a hormone that sirens infect you with,” he explained. “Actually, Dean was on his way to warn you when he got ambushed. I told him that all the women had high levels and so it looked like they were the ones being targeted.”

My face drained of blood at the reminder of what that thing had done to those women. Of what he’d tried to do to me.

“I know what it is,” I told him. “And it’s not specific to sirens. It’s a naturally occurring hormone in the body. Ever heard of the love hormone?” At his nod I continued. “It occurs during childbirth, breastfeeding… and sex. That’s why he wanted women that were in love. He said it’s so much better that way.”

Understanding showed on his face alongside a mix of horror and protective anger.

“Y/N… he didn’t?”

“No,” I assured him quickly. “Not me anyway. I figured out what he was too quickly.”

Relief replaced the other emotions on his face and he stayed silent as he processed this new information. Then he wrinkled his brow in confusion.

“You said he chose women that were in love,” he said.

“Yeah,” I confirmed.

“So why did he go after you?”

I was practiced enough at hiding my feelings for the older Winchester from both brothers that I didn’t even have to hesitate to come up with an explanation.

“I guess he found me attractive. Per his usual pattern, he turned into me to see if I was in love with anyone and found out pretty quickly that I’m a hunter.”

“Then why did he turn into Dean?” He asked.

“He was pretending to rescue me,” I answered.

“Right, but why? What’s the point? If he wanted you dead, he had the chance. There was no reason for him to mess with you that way.”

I didn’t have a reasonable explanation for this, so I stayed quiet.

“He wasn’t just going after you because you’re a hunter. You fit the profile he was after and he wanted to-” he cut himself off and considered his wording. “He wanted to… complete his usual pattern. Because you’re in love with Dean,” he surmised, smiling a little bit at this conclusion.

I decided silence was the best option here. I couldn’t possibly contradict his completely accurate deduction. I wouldn’t outright confirm it for him, but I wasn’t going to deny what we both knew to be true.

“Y/N.”

More silence.

“Tell me I’m wrong and I’ll drop it,” he promised. I sighed.

“You know you’re not,” I told him.

“Then why don’t you do something about it?” He asked.

“There’s nothing to do about it,” I answered. “He doesn’t see me that way. And that’s fine. I’ve accepted it.”

“How do you know he doesn’t feel the same if you don’t tell him?”

“Sam, I’m really not in any condition to do anything to you right now, but I swear if you say anything to him, there’s going to be hell to pay in a couple of days,” I warned.

“I’m not going to say anything,” he said, offended by my assumption. “But I really think you should tell him. You guys are so great together. I think you would be good for each other. And I would be very happy for you.”

“Thanks, I guess. My head hurts too much to even consider thinking about this right now,” I told him.

“Alright, fine. I’ll let it go,” he conceded. “For now.”

“That’s all I ask.”

After that we sat in companionable silence while we waited for Dean to get back. Sam turned the TV on. I closed my eyes to block out the light and just listened to it, finding it to be a suitable distraction from the day’s events.

Dean got back probably twenty minutes later by my estimation.

“Hey, how are you doing?” He asked as soon as the door was shut behind him.

“A little better,” I told him.

“Good,” he said. He took the peas from my hand and gently felt the lump that had formed on the back of my head. “I think the swelling might actually be going down a little bit.”

He took the now room temperature peas to the freezer and switched them out for a fresh bag. He handed it to me and then sat down beside me, putting his arm around me.

“Is this ok?” He asked. He didn’t know the details that Sam did about the shapeshifter’s intentions, but he knew that I had been attacked today by a guy wearing his face.

“You don’t have to tiptoe around me,” I told him. “I know it wasn’t you. For the record, I knew the whole time it wasn’t you. I’m fine. I’m not traumatized and I’m not afraid of you.”

“A simple yes would have been fine,” he teased, pulling me closer into his side.

Movement from Sam’s direction had me glancing at him. He just smiled at me, looking meaningfully at Dean and then winking at me. I would have rolled my eyes if the action wouldn’t hurt my head. Instead I pointedly looked away from him. Things with me and Dean were fine the way they were. I wasn’t going to mess it up now just because Sam knew about my feelings.

A romantic relationship with Dean was something I wanted, but not something I needed. This right here – sitting together with my two best friends, knowing that even though I was temporarily unable to defend myself should it be necessary I was still safe and protected – this was all I needed. At least, that’s what I’d continue to tell myself.

Chapter 2

Tags:

@123passwort

#supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #familiar #reader insert #dean winchester #sam winchester #case fic #monster of the week #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x platonic!reader #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x platonic!reader #writing prompt

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alyssaforevermore · 3 months

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Unearthed ↦ Daryl Dixon season one, part three

Synopsis: Based on the events of The Walking Dead television series, Y/N Grimes, younger sister of Rick Grimes, attempts to survive in a world now inhabited by walkers. Family has always meant everything to her, but in this new world, can she keep her family safe and together?

Show: The Walking Dead (S1-S11)

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x fem!Reader

Warnings: coarse language, violence, character deaths, drug and alcohol references, series spoilers and general The Walking Dead content warnings!

Tags: @1ivinqdeadqir1 @callmeyn @thegeorgiahuntsman @mellxander1993 @bigbaldheadname @cjmonsterwolf @abbi23323 @actuallyklee @lanxsee @livingdeadblondequeen @medeima @spectacular-skywalker (last two pls reach out to me if your names are incorrect so we can fix it)

Masterlist

You sat by Dale’s RV, silently stewing in your anger. No matter how much thought you gave it, you couldn’t think of a way to convince Rick to stay back at camp. Ultimately, you know it was fruitless. If Lori couldn’t convince him, you certainly couldn’t.

Rick exited the tent, now wearing his old Sheriff's uniform. As if on cue, Shane and Yourself matched over to him.

“So that’s it, huh?” Shane asked. “You’re just gonna walk off? To hell with everyone else?”

“I’m not saying to hell with anybody.” Rick sighed. “Not you, Shane. Least of all Lori, Carl and Y/N.”

Shane pointed to where Lori sat. “Tell her that.”

Rick turned around, tilting his head. “She knows.” He responded, turning back around and continuing towards the cars.

“Well, we don’t.” You argued. “Can you just explain it to us?”

“Why would you risk your life for a douchebag like Merle Dixon?” Shane questioned.

“Hey,” Daryl called out. “Choose your words more carefully.”

“No, I did. Douchebag is what I meant.”

“Shane-”

“Merle Dixon—” Shane continued. “The guy wouldn’t give you a glass of water if you were dying of thirst.”

“What he would or wouldn’t do doesn’t interest me. I can’t let a man die of thirst—me. Thirst and exposure. We left him like an animal in a trap. That’s no way for anything to die, let alone a human being.”

Lori joined the conversation, her hands folded across her chest. “So you and Daryl, that’s your big plan?”

Rick turned, looking at Glenn. “Oh, come on.” The man responded.

“You know the way.” Rick pleaded. “You’ve been there before. In and out, no problem. You said so yourself. It’s not fair of me to ask, I know that, but I’d feel a lot better with you there. I know she would too.” His eyes landed on Lori.

Glenn eyed the woman for a moment, contemplating if he really even had a choice at this point.

“That’s just great,” Shane responded. “Now you’re gonna risk three men, huh?”

T-Dog raised his hand. “Four.”

You took a deep breath, raising your hand as well. “Make that five.”

Rick turned to you, his eyes narrowed. “I’d much rather you stay here.”

“If you think for a second that I’m letting you run off to the dead city without me, after we just got you back, then you don’t know me as well as I thought.”

Rick eyed you for a moment, before finally letting out a sigh and nodding. He knew you were too stubborn to argue with; something that seemed to run in the family.

“My day just gets better and better, don’t it?” Daryl huffed.

“Do you see anyone else stepping up?” T-Dog asked.

“Why you?”

“You wouldn’t even begin to understand. You don’t speak my language.”

Dale let out a heavy sigh. “That’s five then.”

“It’s not just five. You’re putting every single one of us at risk. Just know that, Rick.” Shane responded. “Come on, you saw that walker. It was here. It was in camp. They’re moving out of the cities and if they come back, we need every able body we got.”

“Sounds to me like what you really need are more guns.”

Glenn smiled. “Right, the guns.”

“What guns?” You asked.

“Six shotguns, two high-powered rifles, over a dozen handguns. I cleaned out the cage back at the station before I left.” Rick explained. “I dropped the bag in Atlanta when I got swarmed. It’s just sitting there on the street, waiting to be picked up.”

“If we don’t do this, then we’re just sitting ducks.” You pointed out. “I needs to be done, whether we like it or not.”

“How much ammo is in that bag?” Shane asked.

“Seven hundred rounds, assorted.”

“You went through Hell to find us.” Lori spoke. “You just got here and you’re gonna turn around and leave?”

Carl stepped forward, looking up at Rick. “Dad, I don’t want you to go.”

“To Hell with the guns, Shane is right. Merle Dixon? He’s not worth one of your lives, even with guns thrown in.” Lori stepped closer to her husband. “Tell me. Make me understand.”

“I owe a debt to a man I met and his little boy.” Rick sighed. “Lori, if they hadn’t taken me in, I’d have died. It’s because of them that I made it back to you at all. They said they’d follow me to Atlanta. They’ll walk into the same trap I did if I don’t warn him.”

“What’s stopping you?” You asked.

“The walkie-talkie, the one in the bag I dropped. He’s got the other one. Our plan was to connect when they got closer.”

“Our walkie-talkies?” Shane inquired.

Rick nodded.

“So use the C.B., what’s wrong with that?” Andrea joined the conversation.

Shane rubbed his head. “The C.B.’s fine. It’s the walkies that suck to crap. Date back to the seventies, don’t match any other bandwidth, not even the scanners in our cars.”

Rick nodded. “I need that bag.”

…

As the crew began loading the box van for the trip, you approached Lori who stared longingly at your brother.

“Are you really okay with this?” You asked quietly.

“If I’m being honest, not really.” Lori looked at you for a moment, before looking back at her husband. “The only solace I have is knowing you’ll be there to watch over him; to bring him back here.”

You smiled to yourself, appreciating Lori’s faith in you. The two of you had your issues in the past, not always seeing eye to eye, but the last few months had brought you together. If it wasn’t for her and Carl, you really doubted if you’d still be alive. If you’d have wanted to be.

Daryl began honking the horn of the van, Glenn sitting in the seat next to him. You headed on over, standing beside Rick and Shane.

“Last time we were on the gun range, I’m sure I wound up with a few loose rounds of yours.” Shane spoke, rummaging through his bag.

Rick smiled. “You and that bag—like the bottom of an old lady’s purse.”

Shane let out a sigh. “I hate that you’re doing this, man. I think that it’s foolish and reckless but if you’re gonna go, you’re taking bullets.”

“I’m not sure I’d want to fire a shot in the city. Not after what happened last time.”

“That’s up to you.” He spoke, finally pulling out some bullets from his bag. “Well…five people, five rounds. What are the odds, huh?”

You felt a chill run down your spine.

“Let’s just hope five is my lucky number.” Rick responded, taking the bullets and loading them into his gun. “Thank you.”

Shane nodded.

You looked back at Lori, giving her a reassuring nod. This was going to be the riskiest thing you’d done so far, and you just hoped it would be worth it.

…

The five of you had arrived just outside the city, parking the van near some railroad tracks before going on foot. When you finally arrived at the building Merle had been left at, Daryl wasted no time shoving T-Dog along to show him the way up to the roof. You followed close behind, barely having a moment to think about if the dead had seen you.

At the top of the stairs, T-Dog cut the chain to the door. Daryl pushed past him, throwing the door open and running onto the roof.

“Merle! Merle!” Daryl called out, looking around.

You followed the men who came to an abrupt stop.

“Oh my god.” You mumbled, covering your mouth with your hand.

Daryl rushed over, finally seeing exactly what you all had. “No!”

He began pacing back and forth, tears welling in his eyes as he continued to scream out. Everyone remained silent, not knowing exactly what to say; if there was anything to say.

Your eyes lingered on the ground, Merle’s severed hand sitting next to a hacksaw. Semi-dried blood was pooled around it, droplets leading away from the scene. Yet, there was no sign of Merle at all.

That crazy son of a bitch.

----

AN: Thank you for reading this chapter!! I really hope you all enjoyed it. This one was a bit shorter as I wanted to line up the chapters and episodes. Next one should cover all of episode four. Also, a big thank you for all of the love I've gotten on this series so far; it's really inspired me to keep going! If you'd like to request to be tagged in future chapters, you can do so here. Please be sure to like and reblog <3

#daryl dixon; unearthed #twd #twd fanfiction #twd fanfic #daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon x reader

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clickerflight · 9 months

Text

The Lion and the Mouse - Part 1

Masterlist

I remember reading asops fables as a kid and reading the lion and the mouse. I remember being disappointed that they didn't linger on either of the character's capture. Anyways, this one is inspired by all of the hero villain whump I like to read, Lion and the mouse, and I wanted to try my hand at tiny whump.

Content: There's some heavy stuff here. Tiny whumpee, creepy whumper, temporary character death (twice), strangulation, broken neck, reference to past deaths, hoping for permadeath, non sexual nudity, dehumanization. There will be a happy ending at the end of all this.

Let me know if you want to be on the tag list

..........................................................

Vigil hated taking commissions, but he had to. If he didn’t he’d be moved from a vigilante classification into a Hero classification, and the paperwork and hoops heroes had to deal with were all too annoying for Vigil to get into. Instead, he did the bare minimum of accepting a commission once every three months and got it over with as quickly as possible. Easy jobs. Sneaking in and getting some information the heroes couldn’t get, bagging a criminal with slightly less moral techniques so the heroes could keep their image. That sort of stuff.

Of course, this time, Vigil put off taking a commission until he had to take literally whatever came his way next, and of course it had to be this stupid team for a long term deal.

The team consisted of five heroes, and all of them, from the leader down to the sidekicks, were all pretentious and ‘righteous’. Pompous hypocrites, the lot of them. Vigil wished he had someone he could have taken with him for all of this. He had heard of the kinds of things they did to the villains they were supposed to rehabilitate, and while he was a part of the Eastern Vigilante Union and they’d keep an eye out for him, it still made him very nervous. Florence never came back the same. Vigil heard that he was still camped out in the forest outside the cities where he hoped the heroes wouldn’t find him again. Gave up the whole villain thing, sure, but at what price.

Vigil got his visitor’s badge from the secretary and headed on up. He was wearing some of his suit, unable to convince himself to leave it behind. Which of course got a comment immediately.

“Hey, Vigil. Nice outfit. You do realize today is just a planning meeting, right?” Nautilus said as he caught up with Vigil in the hallway.

Vigil rolled his eyes. Nautilus was one of the heroes he didn’t hate outright, but he was still an arrogant pain in the backside.

“Doesn’t matter,” Vigil replied, sweeping down the hall at a pace that forced Nautilus to rush to catch up.

“Touchy! What’s got your panties in a twist?”

Vigil decided not to respond to that, simply turning to enter the conference room where the leader of the team, Technical, waited for him. There was a young hero sitting next to him, a sidekick or apprentice Vigil didn’t know the name of yet.

“Morning, Vigil,” Technical said, raising an eyebrow at him. “Expecting an attack today?”

Vigil sighed and sat down in the office chair. “I’m dressed down, I'll have you know.”

Nautilus snorted and took another chair. After a minute or two of silence, the others came in.

The heroes all sat down and the briefing began.

It was going to be a long mission. One with lots of stake outs and figuring out who was in charge of a syndicate of people who were trading in illegal goods.

“You should be able to handle it, right Vigil?” Leshy said, looking the vigilante up and down doubtfully.

Vigil sighed heavily. “You’re the one who commissioned me, okay?”

Just imagine the money at the end of this. Long missions means big rewards. Long missions means big rewards.

Vigil repeated that silently in his head every time he got a strange look or snide comment. That was, until he heard something strange behind him.

He turned to find it, ever alert to danger. Behind him was a countertop, and there was a sturdy looking box there with holes along the bottom. Something flesh colored was pressed against the holes, just barely visible.

The others looked where he was watching as well, Technical clearing his throat a little to try and get his attention again. “Don’t mind that.”

The sound came again and Vigil recognized it as a groan, though much higher pitched than he was used to. “What is that?” he asked, turning back to Technical.

“Don’t worry about it,” Technical replied firmly. “Leshy, would you?”

“Yeah,” and with that, Leshy stood up and took the box out of the room.

…………………………………

Vigil didn’t see the box again until after a couple of missions where they hunted down goons and figured out who was their boss and then found those people’s bosses and so on. He was waiting in Leshy’s personal office, working on some paperwork when he noticed something. There was a faint spot on one of the papers on the desk. On a hunch, Vigil looked around and pulled out his light that would make dried bodily fluids shine. Sure enough, there was splatter everywhere. All over the desk, on the walls, on the floor, on every counter.

Vigil stood up, feeling unclean even just standing in the room. He turned and spotted, on top of a cabinet, the box. It glowed in the light and, as he watched, something poked out of the hole. It took him a moment to recognize it for what it was, but after a moment, he realized it was a very small finger.

Vigil didn’t really think. He just left, leaving the unfinished paperwork sitting on Leshy’s desk behind him.

Vigil couldn’t sleep, he couldn’t eat, he couldn’t understand. All he could think about was that tiny finger, proportioned like an adult’s, poking out through a hole in a box. He felt like he was going to be sick all of the time.

Especially when he saw that box. Apparently everyone except the youngest traded it around like it was some school pet that needed to be watched over on the weekends. Vigil couldn’t stand to look at it when it came out, especially knowing that there was something living in it.

So, like a coward, he ignored it.

……………………..

Kai curled up in the box, leaning his face on his knees. He was getting too big for the box again. He shuddered, feeling his spine brush the side. He wished he could stop growing back. He wanted to stay small. He didn’t care if he would be kept in the box forever, at least he wouldn’t have to die over and over again.

He closed his eyes, keeping his sobs as small as he could. If they heard him, they would know to give him back to Leshy. The hero would ‘cut him down to size.’ He shivered again, his mind pulling up times Leshy had tortured and killed him over and over again like some perverse slideshow.

And to think, he’d thought there’d be a chance of rescue. There had been a new voice around for a while, and Kai was pretty sure it was Vigil. He’d faced off with the vigilante a couple of times when he was free, and he’d seemed a decent enough person.

But when Kai was alone in the office with Vigil, even after he’d miraculously managed to garner the vigilante’s attention, the man had gone very pale and left, taking his light with him. The light that showed every place in the room when he had been killed.

Kai bumped his head against his knees, choking down another sob. He was going to be trapped here however long had been designated, maybe even longer. Leshy had threatened to keep him for as long as the government let him, and Kai had been a nuisance. He wasn’t high enough to warrant special attention, but he wasn’t low enough to get out anytime soon.

And he couldn’t even die here. Well, he did. He died here every few days, but he couldn’t actually properly die. He wished he could.

He was getting bigger. His back was pressed against the wall of the box and he lowered his head. He hoped this wouldn't be another time where he was left to suffocate in his own flesh until he died and got smaller again. He supposed he could make some noise and die a bit quicker but the idea of Leshy holding him down and killing him in some new way he’d concocted was almost too much to bear.

This time he did sob out loud and one of the voices, which he had grown used to ignoring, chirped up. It was one of the sidekicks, he was pretty sure. “Leshy, I think he’d gotten big again.”

The sound of footsteps crossed the room and Kai willed himself smaller, imagining becoming tiny and harmless and not needing to be killed, but just like every time he tried, it didn’t work.

He sobbed again as the top of the box slid open. There was a layer of mesh in between him and the outside world, and Kai had stopped trying to get it open months ago.

“Yeah, looks like it,” Leshy said, sliding the lid closed and then lifting and carrying the box. Kai rocked with every step, trying not to imagine how Leshy would kill him this time. He hoped he’d just break his neck or crush his head. Something quick and easy. Something that wouldn’t last long.

They entered the office and the box was opened. This time, Lesh reached in and grabbed him. Kai was maybe the size of a small cat, and certainly more harmless than one. He’d stopped struggling as that usually only made it last longer.

Leshy sighed, like he was bored with this. Like there were better things he could be doing with his time. Kai sobbed once as he was laid down on a counter, Leshy rummaging in his pocket for a moment before pulling out a rubber band.

Kai sobbed again as Leshy pulled Kai’s hair away from his neck. “No, sir, please, sir. Please, just crush my head, please!”

“Too messy,” Leshy replied, stretching out the band to go down over Kai’s torso to hold his arms to his body, wrapping another too tightly around his ankles to keep Kai from thrashing too much.

“Please, please, no. Snap my neck, then. Please, s-sir, please! I’ll be good! Snap my neck please!”

“Too quick,” Leshy replied and he pulled the last rubber band over Kai’s neck.

Kai sobbed openly as Leshy twisted the band, pinching skin and sending it back over his head. The third twist, though, silenced him as Kai began to suffocate. Leshy stepped back, grabbing his chair to sit and watch with a satisfied smile as Kai silently writhed on the counter, trying to breathe. He could see spots, his throat hurt so much he knew his windpipe was already crushed. The spots grew bigger and an instinctual fear that never went away no matter how many times Kai died rose up inside him causing such desperation that it felt like a physical creature trying to crawl out through his chest, ripping his flesh and mind with terrifying claws, making the world inconceivable and-

Kai awoke. He was curled on his side, under a glass dome. He stared at the distorted world past the glass, shivering anxiously, He could see Leshy at his desk working. Kai swallowed and closed his eyes again, taking slower breaths. The rubber bands weren’t in the dome with him, probably to make sure he didn’t climb out the hole at the top somehow. Kai had tried that in the past and he’d been killed again, squished like a bug under Leshy’s palm. He’d woken up at about the size of a thumbtack. He’d actually tried to kill himself one more time so he could be even smaller than that and Leshy wouldn’t be able to see him that well. Then he could run and hide somewhere until he could find a way out. Leshy had caught him, though and trapped him in a capsule you’d get out of a toy vending machine at the front of a store. He’d even managed to make it into a necklace that the older of the sidekicks paraded around for the day.

“You awake?” Leshy called across the room.

Kai slowly sat up as an answer. His vocal chords were too small to make any noises that sounded like a voice, so he had to move but the effort seemed to take everything from him. In the past when he would wake up he would feel full and hydrated and energetic again, but he hadn’t been fed in…. Well, since he got here, and while he still felt full every time he woke up after dying, he was getting more tired with each pass. He hoped that meant he would eventually die, but something within him warned that this wouldn’t be the case and he would just grow weaker and weaker until he could do nothing to even try and save himself.

Leshy grunted as he got out of his seat and stared down at Kai, who only met his gaze for a moment before looking away, still partially curled up.

“Oh, don’t act like that. It’s not like I haven’t already seen everything,” Leshy said mockingly, laughing when Kai curled up more.

Leshy lifted the dome and grabbed Kai, his hand wrapping around Kai’s whole body save for his feet and head. Kai held very still as Leshy looked down at him with a hum.

“You were supposed to leave us a week from today, but I let them know that you wanted to stay for a bit longer,” Leshy said, a feral grin spreading on his face as he gave Kai a threatening squeeze. Kai’s muscles seized with panic and he closed his eyes, holding his breath, praying that Leshy wouldn’t squeeze harder. He didn’t want to spend the next three days with broken ribs.

“You have another, mmmmm 2 months with us, dear flea.”

His hand relaxed and Kai sucked in a breath that quickly turned into hyperventilation and desperate twitched as he tried to free himself.

“I’ll have to sit down and plan some real fun things to try out. I’m sure I could think of 25 entertaining ways to watch you die, right?”

There was a knock at the door as Kai dissolved into tears and Leshy sighed, putting him back under the dome and calling, “Come in!”

Kai curled up as small as he could, sobbing harder, letting it all out in wails that no one could hear.

At least, he thought no one could hear.

“What’s that buzzing?” Vigil asked.

“Ignore it. Just an insect.”

Kai grabbed at his hair, staring blankly at the counter in front of him. Just an insect, worth nothing but the entertainment value of his death. Just an insect, just an-

There was a large eye staring in at him and then Vigil flinched back. “What is that?” he asked softly, leaning forward to look again.

Kai slowly uncurled and twisted to look up at Vigil, whose mouth was open in shock.

Kai knew Vigil couldn’t hear him, but he mouthed ‘Help me,’ as big as he could.

Vigil stared at him and Leshy sighed. “You remember Kai, right?”

“Kai? Kai Gordon? That��s him?”

“Yeah. Did you ever get the chance to see him become smaller.”

“Can’t say I have,” Vigil said cautiously.

“I’ll show you. It’s cool.”

Kai whimpered in a voice only he could hear, scrambling back as Leshy came over. When the dome was uncovered he lunged to get away but was caught all the same. He struggled hard. He didn’t want to be tiny again. He’d gotten used to the three day starvation periods, he didn’t want to have to go six days again. It was too much!

Leshy pinched Kai’s head and the last thing he heard was a horrified sound from Vigil.

…………………………….

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?” Vigil screeched. Kai was dead and limp in Leshy’s hand, his head hanging at a very wrong angle. The villain was completely naked and obviously terrified before Vigil had seen the life leave his eyes.

“It’s fine,” Leshy said, rummaging in a drawer and pulling out a capsule. “Watch.”

Kai’s body was shrinking and when it was small enough, Leshy shoved it in the capsule, closed it, and let Kai finish in there.

“He’ll be healed and awake in another minute or two. It’s how we keep him easy to contain,” Leshy said with a shrug. “Better than trying to keep him alive and him finding ways to kill himself so he can go small and escape. We control when and where he becomes small. Easy.”

Vigil didn’t respond. He couldn’t. How were you supposed to respond to that? He glanced at the capsule, rigged with chord and a necklace clasp and Leshy smiled. “Do you want to wear him for the day? He gave you a nasty beating once or twice, didn’t he?”

Vigil had to act quickly. “Oh, yeah, sure. Serve him right, I guess. I was just worried you were going to get in trouble for killing him was all.”

“Yeah. Go ahead, then. Bring him back at the end of the day. He’ll be big enough to go into his box.”

Vigil nodded, carefully picking up the capsule and, with a very sick feeling in his stomach, hanging it around his neck.

“Have fun,” Leshy called, distractedly looking up from his paperwork as Vigil left. If he noticed or cared that Vigil didn’t respond, he didn’t show it.

Part two

@whumpsday I think you wanted to see this

#whump #tiny whumpee #creepy whumper #villain whumpee #hero whumper #temporary character death #strangulation #broken neck #nonsexual nudity #dehumanization #suicidal thoughts #I am throwing Kai through the ringer #and I will not apologize for it

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prysmartin · 1 year

Text

Ready Player One's stuck on my mind again, so

I made this account to post long, ramble-y things occasionally that wouldn't fit on other social media sites. Might as well put it to good use!

Fair warning - Ready Player One spoilers ahead. It's been out long enough that I doubt anyone would care, though, especially after taking a brief look through posts with the tag.

It's a story that's a sort of boogieman for me. Every couple of months, my brain meanders back to this part of the woods, sees the beast, and roasts it relentlessly for how ineffective it is, despite its promising appearance. ...Promising appearance? Shoulda gone Intimidating instead, maybe? I dunno, this metaphor was a weird choice.

A few years ago, our teacher forced us to read it and we all went out as a class to watch the movie. The entire class - teacher included - absolutely hated the book, but found the movie fine. Well, outside of the plot holes, at least... What do you mean no one drove backwards in a race for FOUR YEARS? I'd do that in Mario Kart if I was doing poorly! It's funny!

We unanimously hated the book not because most people hated reading - everyone was pretty invested in the class, as it was "writing and literature in video games", and everyone was more than willing to participate and invest a lot of energy in the class - we all hated it because it was poorly written. We had some other points, but I don't want to get too side-tracked from the main thing I wanna focus on.

In the latter half of the second segment of the story, our Protagonist goes out of his way to play Pac-man. There was, like, an entire page or two dedicated to this. I decided to skim this part, since none of it seemed relevant. That is, until the very end, when our protag gets revived by the random quarter he got doing this sidequest. Turns out, the coin was just a free in-game insta-revive you got for playing pac-man on the buggy 256th stage?

This book was filled to the brim with reference slogfests, and every one before this one was basically one-and-done, having little to no impact on the story as a whole, or even the scene it was tied into. How was I supposed to know this was going to be any different? And even if I did know, why would I want to read through all this when it's not obviously moving the story forward in some way? The coin wasn't even mentioned between its introduction and the final battle! (At least, from what I remember. Maybe I skimmed that over too when it was buried in another reference I couldn't care less about.)

The movie, meanwhile, took the coin and tied it into a relevant point. Our protagonist didn't get it from some random side-quest - he got it from the museum's curator, who gave it to him after he went out of his way to research the guy who set up the main plot about acquiring ownership of the virtual reality world. He learned about something impactful to the guy's life, found a relevant piece of information that would help move him forwards, and THEN got this seemingly innocuous coin that would later save him in the final battle. Sure, it wasn't mentioned until the very end either (at least, not that I recall), but because it was better introduced, it felt like an actually earned moment rather than pulling plot armor out of his rear-end.

...maybe that's where he was hiding the coin in the book?

The weird thing is, the basic plot outline of the story was far more impressive. The movie didn't include any segments of the main villains, IAI, blocking off access to one of the keys with digital Wizards and using the fact that the key was in a no PVP zone to their advantage. It didn't include the main character turning himself into IAI under a false name in order to get high in their ranks and sabotage their grand plans. It didn't include one of the five major key-holders getting thrown off a thirty-story building to his death.

The book had all this and more. Its premise was AMAZING and I love the story it was trying to tell. Emphasis on trying. What the book had in potential, it lacked in execution. The movie, while dulled down in its concept, was better built for its creative medium and better realized as a story, even though it was more of an action movie.

If there's anything to take away from all this, tl;dr: Worldbuilding will only do so much for you. As with any sort of creative medium, it's good to dream big, but better to practice with smaller, more manageable projects.

...that last bit is more just good life advice rather than a real takeaway from everything I said before. Eh, whatever. I could ramble more, as I have MANY more problems with the book, but I think that's enough for one post. Plus, this is only my second post on this site...

#ready player one #storytelling #writing #I still don't know what tags to use :(#writing tips #Fun train fact - RPO stands for Railway Post Office #That fact isn't important but the book's initials are RPO so I thought I'd throw it in

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jedipoodoo · 1 year

Text

I posted 1,090 times in 2022

That's 941 more posts than 2021!

211 posts created (19%)

879 posts reblogged (81%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@twinkofthedink

@jedipoodoo

@lizartgurl

@emperor-palpaminty

@queenquazar

I tagged 886 of my posts in 2022

Only 19% of my posts had no tags

#sergeant hunter - 311 posts

#lizart writes - 134 posts

#the bad batch - 95 posts

#lizart speaks - 70 posts

#omega - 67 posts

#my ocs - 60 posts

#saachi gunder - 58 posts

#the bad batch x reader - 56 posts

#arc trooper echo - 52 posts

#tbb x reader - 51 posts

Longest Tag: 135 characters

#also i hate the little 'draft saved' box that pops up every two seconds when you're posting on desktop does it jumpscare anyone else???

My Top Posts in 2022:

Hey!! Any chance I could request a labor fic w fives? If not that’s totally ok I’m just super into pregnant readers lol

YOU ABSOLUTELY CAN ANON I AM GOING INSANE WITH THE IMPLICATIONS OF THIS ASK

(I am also super into pregnant readers in case you can't tell xP)

I Want You Forever And Always (Fives x Pregnant!Reader)

Notes/Warnings: reference to Fives' death but SPOILERS! He's not actually dead. Labor and delivery, pregnancy, angst with a happy ending, hurt/comfort, Order 66 o_o This one is kind of long but i doubt yall will mind

he's just so pretty......

Deep breaths. That's all you had to do. Never mind that a sentient being the size of a bowling ball was preparing to make its entrance to the waking world via a hole on your body that was usually no bigger than a grape. No matter that the galaxy was in the middle of a war that tore each planet at the seams. no matter that your family was stuck on the other side of the galaxy and none of them could be there to support you in this crucial moment

Never mind that the father of your child was dead.

You held the dog tag so tightly in your hand that it left an imprint on your palm. It wasn't an actual dog tag, the Kaminoans were far too advanced to require those, but Fives was charmed with the story you had once told him of how when your grandfather had died in battle during the Hyperspace war, he left a tag with his name, station, and one of his favorite sayings hanging on a chain of metal. When Fives got a fresh suit of armor, he'd cut a piece off of his old chestplate, just above his heart, and hung it on a chain.

You wore the tag like a charm ever since he died, hoping some of the insane good luck that had kept him alive through most of the Clone War would rub off on you and your unborn child.

It worked, kind of. You still had crippling anxiety about raising your child alone on Coruscaunt. You could move back to Dantooine with your family, but there you could only make half on the farm there of what you did with your office job here.

And what if the Kaminoans and the Republic got wind of who the father was? Fives was dead, they couldn't punish him for inappropriate relations, but what if they took your child, claiming that it was their property, just as they had with Fives and the millions of brothers who had died before him in this pointless, endless war.

Despite your worries, the labor was progressing well, or so the med-droid told you. It was covered in a soft, rubbery material that mimicked human skin, offering a comforting touch or an arm to lean on. It was all you had, you weren't complaining.

"Have you picked out a name?" It asked. the modulated voice sounded like your wrinkled old grandmother.

"No, not yet." Another contraction hit, and you breathed steadily as you continued your walk around the room. It wasn't too bad, it was just boring, but the doctor said it was meant to help the birth go faster. Who were you to deny yourself?

"I have a database of every recorded name in the galaxy, should you require inspiration. Would you like me to suggest some appropriate names?"

Names, names, what's in a name? Fives and his brothers had some of the most ridiculous names, but you loved them.

"Sure, why not?" You had nothing else to do, and the news playing on the holomonitor behind you wasn't very interesting at the moment.

Without hesitation, the droid began to rattle off a list of names and their meanings, some of which weren't even in basic.

"Luke is a popular boy's name that originated from Tattooine. In Huttese, it means 'little dragon'."

"Really?" You struggled to stay polite. as another contraction knocked the wind out of your lungs. You gripped the railing of your hospital bed for support.

The nursing droid stroked your arm, but otherwise seemed blissfully unaware of your pain.

"There is also the name Lando, menaing land." Original.

"Of course, Many families have taken to naming their sons after the Jedi Generals who have impacted their lives. Have you any such interactions with the Jedi?"

The most you'd interacted with a Jedi was Fives' General, the Jedi Anakin Skywalker. And that was when you'd drunk him under the table at 79's. Fives had been so proud of you that night.

"Not really," You said, breathing evening out, but now you had to hold back tears again. You had a few more minutes before the next contraction.

"Very well," The lights in the droid's eyes blinked. If droids could feel annoyed, this one certainly would be.

"If all else fails, you could name them after the father."

You laughed humorlessly. "Do you have any definitions for the name Fives?"

"I do not understand," the nurse droid said, "the definition of Five would be 'equivalent to the sum of two and three; one more than four, or half of ten'."

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322 notes - Posted February 4, 2022

Kiss Me Slowly (Crosshair x GN!Reader)

Notes: possessive Crosshair, jealous audience, 79's, established Crosshair x Reader. Not stated explicitly, but Cross is wearing a biker jacket on his night out ^_^

Both the Wolfpack and the 212th were on Coruscant, so of course 79's would be packed. Crosshair told you to meet him and the rest of the Batch, but you had barely managed to get off work in time. Even then, there was still a bunch of traffic to get through, and work didn't have you in the best of moods.

Crosshair was waiting for you when you came in, but you brushed him off.

"Not right now," You muttered. You had a headache and you needed Corellian Ale before you could even begin to entertain the idea of spending the rest of your precocious downtime in a crowded, sweaty bar, even if it was with Crosshair.

The hurt on his face haunted you behind closed eyelids as you waited for your drink. Scanning the crowd, you found Crosshair sulking in the usual booth with his brothers.

A small crowd was beginning to form around the infamous Clone Force Ninety-Nine. Hunter and Tech had managed to bring their partners to the side of the booth closest to the wall where they would be the least disturbed, and Wrecker was introducing Echo to some of their friends. Crosshair, however, was being assaulted by a gaggle of tittering fangirls.

You sighed, taking pity on your boyfriend, and figured you may as well go rescue him.

The crowd had tripled by the time you reached them, and you carefully sheltered your drink. You skirted humans, Twi'leks, and other multitudes of species, trying to make your way to the spot Crosshair had saved for you. a spot a blonde-haired natborn was trying to edge her way into, with long lashes and a ruby-red smile. One of the groupies bumped into you from behind, and your drink splashed all over her. Completely on accident, of course.

She let out a vindictive screech as the alcohol soaked into her dress, and spun on you, seething.

"Watch where you're going!" She screeched.

You blinked. "Uh...sorry? It's really crowded in here."

She rolled her eyes, "Of course it's crowded when people like you are just allowed to run amok."

The toothpick in Crosshair's hand snapped in half, and His brothers looked over in silence as her words hung over the group.

You swallowed, struggling to keep your voice calm.

"Excuse me?"

The groupie rolled her eyes, and one of her friends scoffed.

"I mean, seriously, I've seen your kind before. Staring at the boys all night like some creep. You think you'd honestly have a chance with them?" She sneered.

Wrecker couldn't help it anymore, and let out a boisterous laugh that echoed through the bar for a moment, before the music returned to its usual volume. Some of the groupies took that as permission to titter with giggles at your expense.

Hunter smirked into his glass as he took a sip, and then leaned back into the booth with his partner to enjoy the show.

"Who's gonna tell them?" He asked. His partner grinned back at him mischievously. The question was rhetorical, you all knew who was going to make the situation as clear as a kyber crystal to the groupies.

However, your accuser seemed convinced that Hunter was on their side.

"Yeah," She turned back to you, lips curled back to show off pointed canines, "Who's going to tell you, creep?" She almost jabbed a finger at your chest, but someone grabbed her wrist.

Crosshair had seen enough.

"Not them. You," He snarled, shoving her back. The next second, he had an arm around your waist and pulled you flush against his side.

"They're mine."

The groupie paled. "Y-you mean...?"

"They're your partner?" Her friend squeaked.

Crosshair flicked his toothpick halves at them. He didn't say a word as he swept you over to the booth, and tucked you into the seat beside him, his arm still firmly around your waist and holding you so close you were practically sitting on his lap.

"As far as you are concerned," He slowly met the groupie's embarrassed gaze, "They're my spouse."

See the full post

326 notes - Posted April 5, 2022

Adore You (Crosshair x Pregnant! Reader)

Notes: pregnancy, morning sickness, etc, one suggestive line because it's Crosshair, Soft! Crosshair.

Seeing as I have secured my place as the Bad Batch writer with perpetual baby fever, I figured I needed to give the other boys the same treatment. Crosshair was the first request to be made. @writer1

Mando’a translations:

mesh'la - beautiful

ad'ika - little one, child, small one, etc.

buir - parent, mother/father

ba'vod'u - aunt/uncle

Ni kar'tayl gai sa'ad - "I know your name as my child"

Crosshair chuckled. "You look better in my clothes than I do."

You flashed him a smile before pulling the collar of his blacks up over your nose, taking in a deep breath of his scent that lingered on his shirt

"Careful, mesh'la," He warned in a low voice, "You do remember how we ended up in this situation, don't you?"

His hands caressed the swell of your stomach, and Baby kicked out vigorously at the touch of its father.

"You're complaining?" you smirked back at him, placing your hands over his. Crosshair couldn't help but smile, and leaned in to press a kiss to your stomach. He turned slightly, his ear against your tummy, and you gently ran your hands through his curls.

"What do you think they're dreaming about?" He murmured.

You pursed your lips for a moment as you thought, "How excited they are to meet their buir."

Crosshair's fingers traced circles on your tummy. "Hurry up, ad'ika, your buir's dying to meet you."

You laughed, and after a moment the kicking slowed down. Baby was tired, and so were you.

Crosshair kissed your belly one more time before he got up, collecting the rags and dirty clothes from your morning sickness.

"Do you need anything to eat?" he asked.

"Not right now," You took a sip from your canteen, falling back into the pillows. GAR-rationed pillows definitely weren't the most comfortable in the galaxy, but with the ad'ika on the way, all the future ba'vod'u had willingly given up a their pillows to build you a veritable throne. It was perfect to rest in when you got too tired, which was all the time.

You woke up about an hour later to Crosshair massaging your swollen ankles.

"Mmm, that feels heavenly," You told him, "thank you."

"Of course, mesh'la." Crosshair crawled up the bed to lay beside you. You lifted your head slightly so he could tuck one arm under your shoulders, and the other returned to its rightful place on your belly.

He was silent, but that wasn't unusual for him. What was unusual was the touching. Crosshair let you touch him far more than anyone else, but since you got pregnant he was scarcely able to keep his hands off of you.

Tech joked that he enjoyed the "package deal", holding you and the baby at the same time. You had broken down crying from how sweet the thought was (thanks hormones), and it took ten minutes to convince Crosshair that you were okay and they were happy tears and Tech hadn't done anything to upset you.

"Do you think they'll like me?" Crosshair asked out of the blue.

You looked at up him. "Who? The baby?"

He nodded.

You snuggled closer, resting your head against his shoulder. "You're their buir, why wouldn't they love you?"

See the full post

342 notes - Posted January 16, 2022

Straight Through My Heart (Sergeant Hunter x Reader)

Notes: Knives, Physical Proximity, Hunter teaches you how to use a knife properly. Y'all can blame @queenquazar for this one. Love ya boo.

Warnings: Steamy, shameless self-indulgence. Let's say T for Teens.

"Where'd you get this piece of garbage?" Hunter asked all of a sudden. You turned, and you saw him holding the knife you had just bought.

"It was cheap," You shrugged, "And I need a weapon."

Hunter chuckled and shook his head. "This is a Melchi survival knife. It's literally the worst kind you can get." He spun so that he wasn't facing you, and tossed the knife at the target by the door of the Parlor. It just barely skirted the bullseye.

"So it weighs different than your knife."

"No, it weighs the same, but the weight is unevenly distributed. There's no substance in the handle to counterbalance the blade." Hunter waved for you to follow him, and you watched him staring at the knife critically. He gripped the leather-wrapped handle, and instead of pulling it from the wall, he pulled down with all his strength, nearly folding the blade in half before he yanked it out of the wall.

"You ruined it!" You gasped.

"You can have mine." He said quickly. It almost sounded like a joke.

Almost.

Hunter pointed at the different parts of your knife, which now resembled some misshapen corner.

"All knives bend. But if they're made properly, they'll spring back into place." He took his knife and sliced away the leather wrappings. The metal that made up the blade stopped at the handguard, leaving the handle to be made out of crudely polished wood.

Hunter smiled self-righteously. "When the metal goes all the way through the hilt, the knife is more durable and more balanced."

He slipped his knife into your hand, letting you test the weight of it in your palm. It felt almost lighter than air, regardless of how firm the steel was against your fingertip. Hunter slid a finger down the back of the knife, showing you the cutaway section of the knife to prove the metal went all the way down to the hilt. You suppressed a shiver at the sharpness of the blade as you tested your thumb against it.

"I stand corrected, Sergeant," you admitted with wounded pride, "It seems I have much to learn."

Hunter chuckled. "That's what I'm here for, sweetheart. Want a few pointers?"

Your heart beat loudly. You knew how to defend yourself, just not necessarily with a blade as short as Hunter's knife.

"Sure," You shrugged and tossed him his knife, trying to play it off.

Hunter took the leather from your poor excuse of a knife, and carefully wrapped it around the blade for protection.

"When I trained on Kamino, I used a short wooden staff. Just be careful with this," He warned you. His voice was so soft and gentle, you had to nod in compliance.

He smiled, "The first thing you wanna learn, after knowing that you don't hold the sharp end-" He tossed the knife up in the air, catching the blade between his fingertips, "-Is how to keep it balanced."

He demonstrated one of his usual tricks, effortlessly weaving the blade around and in between his fingers fluidly. It hypnotized you like an optical illusion, and you shook your head to make yourself pay attention.

Hunter handed you the hilt of the knife, and you tried to copy what you had seen him do.

He chuckled, shaking his head at your failed attempt. "No, you wanna get your fingers out of the way. If you spin in like that, the uncovered blade will slice your palm open. Move your fingers out of the way, the momentum of the knife will take care of the motions."

You tried again, and the leather-wrapped blade smacked into the palm of your hand. You huffed in frustration.

"Here," Hunter came around behind you, placing his palm on the back of your hand. He lined up his fingers with each of yours, using the lightest of pressure.

"Try slower," He whispered, resting his chin on your opposite shoulder so he could peer around your head to watch your next attempt.

"It's the thumb and the middle finger. Rotate your wrist with the spin so the knife goes under your hand."

With your thumb and middle finger lightly pinched between his fingers and the blade, you gave a little flick with your wrist. Hunter's grip wouldn't let you go too fast, though, and you slowly followed his motions through the twist.

See the full post

430 notes - Posted March 28, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Hello dear! I have a request for you, so lately I have been having the craziest baby fever, so I was thinking, how are the batches baby fever like? I like to hc that they slowly hint it out for a while until they really want to have a baby 😅

THIS IS THE BEST ASK I HAVE GOTTEN IN THE HISTORY OF MY ASKS

Notes: I focused a lot more on pregnancy than adoption in this one, with an exception for Echo because I really don't know for sure what happened to his body. That being said, adoption is a perfectly viable option even if both parents are able to conceive. If you would like me to write something centered on adoption, feel free to drop an ask!

Warnings: babies, baby fever, pregnancy, labor, morning sickness, infertility, adoption, Couvade Syndrome.

The Bad Batch + Baby Fever (afab Reader)

First of all, loyalty means everything to the clones, and loyalty means family. They would do anything for their brothers.

They've been kept from so much in their short lives, the idea of having a spouse and kids of their own seems impossible during the war

So once the war is over (in canon or in one where Papa Palps kicks the bucket before Order 66) endless opportunities are suddenly presented to the Bad Batch.

The one that stands out to them is having a family. Having a loyal partner, and having or adopting kids that they can give a better future than they grew up with.

There have been so many things in the galaxy they can't control, but this is one that they can.

Echo:

Echo wants to be a dad SO BAD

Growing up with Domino squad, he always felt so protective of his brothers and when nights on Rishi got long and boring, they'd talk about what their lives would be like after the war.

After Rishi, he felt like he'd lost the opportunity to have that future he'd imagined with his brothers, but at least had Fives to dream of that future with.

Echo needs people. He needs family. He is so glad to have the batch now, and you.

When you start talking about a family, he is really nervous about pressing anything. But you can tell how much he's holding back.

Once you tell him you want to have kids, the dam bursts. He physically cannot keep it in.

He has a list of baby names a mile long. Most are in honor of the many brothers he's interacted with, but he does some looking into traditionally feminine names as well.

Everyone says Tech's the one doing research but Echo is the one who reads operation manuals for fun.

This man has read every parenting book/pamphlet in existence, and has promptly thrown out the ones that aren't helpful.

He will read these parenting helps to you at night, and it does help you fall asleep but Echo keeps pinching you to stay awake because "This is important, Cyare!"

Because of his trauma, you have to get a bit creative. You can adopt, or you can do IVF. His brothers would be happy to help out.

You can't go through any adoption agencies with the Empire on your tail, so most of it is being on the lookout for kids that need help when you're on missions or walking through Mantell City.

"What about that one-" "Her mom is right over there, babe."

Echo will adopt every child in sight. He is just as bad as Hunter.

If you choose to end up getting pregnant, he goes insane. He can't take his eyes off of you. He hates being away from you, and if he can't bask in your presence for >.2 seconds expect lots of calls like "Hi Cyar’ika how are you and the baby doing?? 🥺"

(if you happen to find out that you're having twins he will faint on the spot. And then promptly rearrange his blueprints for the nursery).

Tech:

Tech gets a baby shoved into his arms when they're trying to evacuate a village while it's mother takes another one of her children to safety.

Tech.exe has stopped working.

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705 notes - Posted April 4, 2022

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#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #okay but the fact that fives is my fifth most popular post is actually incredible #also the baby fever #😩😩😩😩#bless up yall

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ocs-of-the-c · 9 months

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I'm gonna give you... Favorite, Canvas, Roots, and Formal for Samelle And even though not in the tags Glance, Day, and Motion for Vexan! :) -WayfinderLegacy

Thanks so much for the ask! I love any excuse to yell about my OCs. Buckle up, this is gonna get LONG.

SAMELLE

Favorite: Growing up on Balmorra, even good clothing was hard to get. Fancy clothing? Forget it. So it's no surprise that Sam's favorite accessory is a weapon, specifically a claymore. Looks something like this.

Lilmeli gave it to her after they both killed their first Imperial officer together. They were roughly eight, and Sam had beaten the man to death after he attempted to shoot Lilmeli. The problem was, they were supposed to keep the man alive and bring him back to the Resistance for interrogation. So Sam's parents screamed at her and said that she should have let Lilmeli die if it meant the mission succeeded. Sam told them to fuck off. That was the first time her father beat her.

Sam was crying in her room when Lilmeli came in with the claymore. She'd nicked it from the Imperial officer's quarters (he liked to steal pieces of Balmorran culture). Sam hugged her sister and hid that claymore until the day of her parents' betrayal. You can bet that claymore was one of the few things she took off-planet. Now that she has a metal arm, she can actually use the thing like a regular sword, which is terrifying to witness.

Initially, she didn't use it often, because the trauma from Balmorra was still fresh in her mind. She wanted to leave it all behind. But after going to Balmorra out of necessity for the class story, and confronting her parents as an adult, she has begun using the weapon in earnest. It's strapped to her back right along with her big-ass gun.

Canvas: As one might expect from a woman that started fighting for the Balmorran Resistance at age five and has never stopped since, Samelle has a veritable tapestry of scars to her name. The most obvious is her metal left arm, her cybernetic left eye, and the vicious scars on the left side of her face, which the character creator will NOT let me make as vicious as I would like. For reference, think of Two-Face from The Dark Knight.

Yeah, it's ugly. She does have all her hair though! Those scars are the result of her backstory. Her parents, Straken and Haleen, several years after the renewed Imperial push, want to back the winning side and save their own skins. They betray the Resistance to the Sith and Imperials in exchange for Lilmeli being sent to Korriban. By now, Lilmeli has displayed very minor Force sensitivity. Samelle walks in on masked Sith being ‘introduced’ to Lilmeli and gets angry. She pulls out a thermal detonator Jace Malcom style and blows the two Sith up, resulting in the scars mentioned above. Lilmeli pulls in every favor she has to get Sam prosthetics, and the two leave the planet as Imperials murder everyone they’ve ever known. The Republic military, the Jedi, and the Resistance are all pissed at the Arcfres. Sam joins a mercenary company that doesn’t ask questions, and Lilmeli goes to Nar Shaddaa.

Did I mention Sam was twelve at the time this all happened? Yeah.

Aside from that, it's various stab wounds, blaster shots, angry Balmorran wildlife (zeldrates will go for ANY body on the ground and will start feeding even if their prey is still alive), a Mandalorian flamethrower scar across her chest from when they escaped Balmorra (first but not the last time Sam fought a Mando), and Lichtenberg figures on her back and arms from prolonged Sith Lord electrocution as mentioned above. And the gut wound from Jemsyn is probably gonna scar, too.

No piercings, though. You get one of those yanked or burnt in a scrap and you're out of the fight. Sam's seen it happen.

She does, however, have a small tattoo. She got it after her mercenary company, the Sunhawks, were wiped out during the Sacking, leaving her as the only survivor. (Yeah, she saw aspects of the Sunhawks in the first Havoc Squad and finally felt like she had a family again. The betrayal was brutal). It's on her right shoulder blade, and it's a stylized persimmon silhouette of a hawk in front of a small golden sun. The whole thing is about the size of the palm of someone's hand. She knows you're not supposed to have any identifying markings as a soldier, but one, her face is kind of a dead giveaway, and two, anyone who knows the meaning of that tattoo isn't alive to tell anyone about it.

Roots: Samelle wouldn't know a fashion trend if it hit her over the head with a baseball bat. Her clothing style is practical, durable, and functional. However, I do have some specific roots and inspiration for her look. Balmorra's environment has always reminded me of the Scottish Highlands, so there's a lot of Scottish influence in Sam's fashion. Tartan, kilts, sgian-dubh (decorative knife), sporran (like a fanny pack for pocketless kilts), etc. I also snagged some Lord of the Rings influence. Think Aragorn and Boromir meet Scottish Highlands meet Commander Shepard and you'll have Sam's general fashion vibe.

Formal: Samelle doesn't love dressing up. She feels practically naked without her armor or at least one weapon on her person. Which is why regardless of her formal attire she ALWAYS makes sure to have a sgian-dubh with her formal outfit.

As for the outfit itself, Sam pretty much always wears a kilt for the bottom half. Regardless of her complicated relationship with her parents, Balmorra will always be her home, and she's proud of it. For the top of the outfit, it's something like this.

Think that, but minus the bottom half because a kilt goes there, and missing the left sleeve because of her metal arm. That's her general formal outfit.

She honestly doesn't see the point of having different looks for different occasions. Sure, it might be a little different depending on the event, like black for a funeral, but there will always be a kilt and a somewhat military-inspired top.

VEXAN

Glance: At first glance, it's Vexan's entire appearance that stands out. She is a Dathomirian Zabrak in the very heart of the Empire, with a Dark Council seat, and she doesn't wear a hood or mask. She doesn't see the need to hide. She's here, she earned her place here, and she can and will kill to keep it. Hiding would defeat the purpose. Oddly enough, she doesn't seem bothered by the glares, or the hissed insults. Upon closer inspection, there's an air of smugness about her. Like she relishes the rancor she's so skilled at generating. You get the feeling that everyone around her, save a select few, are chess pieces in a great game she's playing. You just have to hope you're not a piece she's decided to sacrifice.

Probably not what you were looking for, but Vexan has ensured that any physical scars or deformities or anything that marks her beyond being an alien is not readily visible to the public. Especially the raised scars from a whip on her back. Especially her badly burned neck from a shock collar.

Day: Vexan remembers years of ragged robes and threadbare socks. Years of begging for undergarments and being laughed at. Years of wearing literal rags while her masters lounged about in the finest Alderaanian silks. Well, no more. Now she is a member of the Dark Council, Darth Nox herself, and she will wear nothing less than what suits her status. On a normal day, she will wear luxurious robes or Sith fashion in shades of red, black, purple, dark blue, and gray. Not all at once, of course. That would be a fashion crime. An example of what she might wear in the day to day can be seen below.

One day it might be purple robes with dark blue inlay and a blue choker. Another day it might be gray robes trimmed with red, complete with a pale red scarf. Noticing a theme yet? Her default clothing must be fashionable, it must be expensive, and it must be able to cover her neck in some fashion. No one can see where the slave collar once lay. No one. She will give no one that advantage.

To that end, she wears a lot of jewelry, particularly necklaces. She has a special fondness for rubies and silver together. Blood and steel, but without all that.....messiness. Her sister may prefer a lightsaber, but Vexan is far more likely to electrocute you on the spot rather than pull out her saber. It's much more efficient.

Motion: Vexan was slightly clumsy when she was younger. That was quite literally beaten out of her during her years as a slave, and now she is flexible, coordinated, and nimble. She also moves almost silently, her feet barely making noise on the ground. Sneaking food to her fellow slaves ensured her default motion is something like a big cat's. Slow, graceful, but able to change speeds in an instant. She has, on several occasions, startled other new Sith with how silently she moves. They've asked her how she does it, but she'll never tell. A lady never reveals her secrets, after all.

This got really long, hope you like it! Some insight into my traumatized child soldier and my equally traumatized slave turned Sith!

#this was fun #samelle arcfre #the loyal soldier #vexan djalles #the seeker of forbidden things #i just realized #sam has a more messed up childhood than the former slave #because at least vexan got a happy childhood for a lil bit before she was abducted at age thirteen #sam however never had a happy childhood #i think if vexan ever found out about sam's parents there would be some sith on sith violence #sam might bring popcorn #and my warrior would definitely get in on it #anyway #food for thought

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savrenim · 1 year

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This is the second time I've found somebody who got into the mha fandom from Nov 5 within two days of each other, except yours is a reverse reaction XD That OP was someone who understood all the memes EXCEPT "what is a dabi and why is he touya" when Nov 5th first had Dabi trend above the election and all that happened, the rest of us were dying to know the confusion it caused to the non-mha fans and the poor twitter headline writer who had to wonder why a burnt anime boy was trending that day.

hello anon thank you for making my day other five asks below the cut bc this became a Long Post (ur right it's more.... I try to be as considerate as possible to other people on my dash so I've gotten into the habit of readmores for long posts?)

(2) So thank you for sharing your story, even in the form of an insane chunk of tags lol. Some fics updated before canon reveal actually contain crumbs of canon too just because the author goes back and edits it in, usually names since they can't change the entire fic of course. This is the case for Hawks's name, we used to call him "Takahiro Sora(ta)" after a fic first kickstarted the name. But shortened it because birb + sky. And hawk + word that sounds like "hero"

(3) In Dabi's case, it was whatever name related to spring or autumn the author could find, I've seen Haruka used once. (Because the Todoroki sibs are named after seasons, Touya and Shouto are too but vaguely and I forgot which is which.) Their tags are HUGE and I've read so many fics these past 4-5 years, I'll have to get back to you later because not only do I have so many deadlines, but also have to look through them all again 😭 Once you have canon sorted out, do u wanna hear fandom stories?

(4) You really had to go and choose the only two mha characters (Dabi and Hawks, Aizawa is fine) who caused an absolute RIOT in fandom. In so many ways, but we'll stick to one type for now. Dabi??? We been knew who he was, but it actually wasn't his backstory reveal trending that day, it was his name, which was also revealed 100 chapters ago! Just not connected to him. We got EVERYTHING wrong about his backstory, the single thing we got right was the method which was a beloved fandom dream.

(5) And even then some of the "method" caught us off guard, I won't spoil you but boy am I tempted to ramble cause these are all my favs too lol. Hawks? We got everything RIGHT. But in all the worst ways. Every crack theory we had became canon. Everything we thought about his backstory was severely understated or we were outright tricked into thinking it was something else because of how it was drawn. It does NOT help that these two aren't often written accurate and they LIE a lot. Good luck!

(6) Also I would love to know what your osmosis journey has taught you if you're willing to share, it's always funny I want to see if you fell for the same things we did or even the same things other osmosis readers fell for. It shows just how strong fanon becomes XD I could send a really long ask, but decided to send it in parts so you could hide it under a read more, since it looks like you don't like long posts. Also! I can find canon retellings, but how do you feel about canon set fic?

OKAY SO

funny story with (2) actually I have seen something like this happen in the star wars fandom, specifically with Dooku. I read several fics that referred to him as 'Yan Dooku' and there is so much spinoff material that, like, I went 'shrug even though this doesn't appear in the movies it might as well be true' bc it was in multiple fics. and then was brought up in question whether or not that Was His Actual Name and it had gotten into fandom osmosis enough that it made it onto a wiki page it took quite a while for me to convince myself that no.... no this wasn't actually Dooku's name...... canonically he only had one name...... someone had just picked it up and run with it..........

but that's so fun and funny I love it, good job fandom choosing names, that's great

I mean I Do Not Mind Spoilers, I'm already pretty spoiled for this thing and am only going to learn through fandom osmosis and love fandom stories so if you want to give me The True Story Of Trending/ Method, I would love that

also deeply amused that I picked the two most Fandom Rioting characters to love this is GREAT, I would absolutely love any set-in-canon fics mostly, like, 'alternate universe -- no quirks' doesn't interest me very much bc there's less grounding into the things that I find interesting in the setting, but otherwise p much anything goes

alright so the interesting thing with 'things I learned from osmosis' is that you need to understand that I started out this fandom reading a jjk crossover fic where My Fave Character Gojo Who Has Math Powers That Are Ridiculously Overpowered and this fic was 'Gojo Is Reincarnated As Dabi He Keeps His JJK Powers And Just Gets Dabi's Too And Decides Instead Of Being Responsible For The Whole World He'd Rather Just Fuck Around And Have Fun And Kind Of Accidentally Gets Labelled As A Supervillain For This And Doesn't Care And Is Also Adopting Half Of Class 1-A Bc The Teacher Instinct Never Goes Away' but it means that a whole bunch of things that were from the initial osmosis were like.... me knowing the character Gojo and assuming things were him and not BNHA; it took my a few chapters to figure out that Dabi was actually a character and not just the hero/villain name that they decided to give Gojo throwing him into the universe (and also that all the other characters who appeared were actual characters and not OCs)

but anyways some fun weird osmosis things

I at first thought that everywhere having star wars names was 100% just Gojo having fun naming places. the star wars names have come up enough that I'm pretty sure everywhere does have star wars names. this is so weird to me. like I guess if it's set on earth that's a historical reference not copyright infringement but W I L D

I've gotten used to gay canon pairings in a few things and I did legit think Aizawa and Present Mic were married for a little while. I think that's just a popular ship now but a person can dream

given other ridiculous parentage reveals (mostly Dabi) there are a number of fics where All For One is Izuku's father. I am now, like..... 65% convinced this is a fan theory but am leaving a 35% convinced this is canon

I figured out really quickly that Hawks/Dabi is a popular ship, which, like, good for them it's fun with their backstories but then exactly bc of the backstories and the ship, 100% assumed that 'Hawks goes undercover to try to infiltrate the League of Villains' was a contrived reason for them to interact. at this point I'm 95% sure that no that's an actual canon arc not just a fanfic thing

on the opposite end of the spectrum I am fairly sure that Dabi is not the lead singer of a mcr-style emo/punk/rock band but boy did y'all have me going for that one a lot

cannot tell how much the League of Villains are Misunderstood Poor Little Meow Meows who just want to Change Hero Society and Unfortunately Are Somewhat Willing To Murder To Get There and how much they are murdering psychopaths I think it's the latter but it's funny how many fics they seem a lot more willing to be chill in

also having a hard time telling who is currently dead or not as well as whether canon had a Nomu apocalypse arc and canon itself is now in some horrible everyone-barely-surviving setup or if things are more chill there but I hope y'all are having a good time wherever you are

those are most of the ones that I can think of, the rest of the osmosis has mostly been me picking up what the main events of the first few arcs are, general things about how quirks work, I'm fairly certain the reveal that One For All kills you/ages you at an accelerated rate came late enough bc there are a number of fics that are 'Izuku actually has a quirk!' that does not touch that angst at all but yeah out here having a good time mostly

#my life #bnha

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antiquated-enchantress · 3 years

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Teen Set March 1967: Carol Gold Talks to the Yardbirds (part 2)

Here is the complete rest of the Teen Set article by Carol Gold typed up (sorry for any typos) that includes an interview with Jimmy where he talks about his vintage coat extensively and his love of old things. Honestly I could listen to him talk about the things he loves all day. This is a gem of an article/interview.

One of my favorite parts: Jimmy the Victorian

“At that moment, Jimmy arrived. Twenty-two-year-old Jimmy Page is a living anachronism. With his long sideburns and hair and his antique clothes, he looks like a character transported from the Victorian era. When I told him so, he was completely delighted. “I feel like a Victorian. I love things that are old- I have an affinity for them. They have more character than modern objects. I’m comfortable with them.”

Read on for the full article...

To give you a bit of history, the Yardbirds began several years ago when slim, tiny, blond Keith Relf met tall, dark Paul Samwell-Smith, Eric Clapton and Jim McCarty at art school and formed a group called the Metropolitan Blues Quartet, which broke up and reformed, with Chris Dreja on rhythm guitar, as the Yardbirds. When the then-new Rolling Stones left the club of their birth, the Crawdaddy in Richmond, Surrey, the Yardbirds took their place as residents and were an immediate hit.

Eric Clapton left the group when they drifted from pure blues and at the recommendation of group friend Jimmy Page, Jeff Beck stepped in to lead the group on their futuristic path. Then last June, Paul Samwell-Smith decided to concentrate on record production and Jimmy Page took his place on bass. Then, this summer, Jimmy moved to join Jeff on lead guitar and Christ moved to bass. (Confused? So were British fans for a while. But it sounds great!)

To get back to the present, the Yardbirds were staying at this posh hotel, although all live in and around London, while they were filming their appearance in the new Antonioni film. Because Yardbirds disappear easily and round up with difficulty, MGM had arranged for them to stay together under the watchful eye of an assistant director (Good thinking! say I). Jeff arrived second, close behind Chris Dreja, and we sat down at a table in the lounge.

Chris relaxed in a nearby chair and listened, throwing an occasional wry remark our way, until he left with drummer Jim McCarty. Keith Relf wandered in once to say hello, but I must confess I didn’t recognize him, though I’ve met him several times before- he’d cut off all his lovely blond hair, leaving barely enough to cover his scalp! All that lovely hair! (A moment of silence for Keith’s departed golden locks.)

Before Jimmy arrived, I asked Jeff about the rumours which have swept the United States that he had left the Yardbirds. He had heard the rumours himself and was infuriated by them. “It’s some snide reporter spreading rumours and I know who it is!” erupted Jeff. (Jeff usually erupts.) In reply to the suggestion that his absence from the group during his bout of tonsilitis might have contributed to the rumours, Jeff snorted derisively (he often snorts derisively), “I played for four weeks- most of the tour!”

“The kids are great, especially on the West Coast. They’re the ones who really know what it’s all about, in California.”

Yardbirds refer constantly to “Yardbird music” and since we’d been talking about understanding it, I asked Jeff to tell me what it is. “I can’t define it,” he said. “It’s just the result of five people’s knowledge of music.”

At that moment, Jimmy arrived. Twenty-two-year-old Jimmy Page is a living anachronism. With his long sideburns and hair and his antique clothes, he looks like a character transported from the Victorian era. When I told him so, he was completely delighted. “I feel like a Victorian. I love things that are old- I have an affinity for them. They have more character than modern objects. I’m comfortable with them.”

Jimmy was wearing the dark blue, tight-waisted, flared jacket that he has practically lived in since joining the Yardbirds in June. He displayed his right sleeve which was worn through at the cuff. “That’s what comes from playing guitar in it,” he said. “People all over London are looking for others like this,” he remarked with pride. “I researched this jacket when I got it- I wanted to make sure it was a jacket I wanted to be associated with. I went through all the linings to see if I could find a date or a tag. It was owned by someone named R. Bell- his name’s inside. In a book I found it dates from about 1900- it was a seaman’s jacket, an officer’s dress coat.”

Jimmy’s love of old things doesn’t stop with clothes. “I live at home and it’s like a warehouse with boxes and things I’ve got stored away. The attic is full of things I’ve seen that were just too good to pass up. I’m going to buy a house- an old house- and put all my stuff in it.

“I even have one of those old motion picture machines- where you put in a penny and look through the peephole and turn a handle that makes the cards flip over and you see Victorian ladies undressing and things like that.”

One has a vision of Jimmy hunting through antique shops and collecting relics of all kinds. But not so- Jimmy is a discriminating collector. “I don’t like things just because they’re old. They must be functional. In the States I could have bought a real Confederate Army officer’s uniform, with the hat and all. I would have loved it, but it had big holes in it and I couldn’t have worn it- must be functional, you see.”

Like Jeff and the other Yardbirds, Jimmy is a former student at art school. “I was studying art and they kept telling me I’d have to get a job eventually, somewhere. Meanwhile, I was playing with a group one night a week. Through them I got work on a session and that developed into a lot of session work. I was still at art school though and it got to the point where one of them would have to go. Well, they kept telling me at art school that I couldn’t just paint forever, I’d have to go to work sometime and I was making a lot of money doing sessions so I quit art school. Someday, I’ll go back to painting.”

Does that mean Jimmy is just in pop for the money? “Of course, the money’s important. It if wasn’t, I could just stay at home and play the guitar, couldn’t I? Work has never meant that much to me. But put it this way- if it ever got to be a drag going out on stage and playing every night, I’d give it up, no matter how much money I was making.”

Jeff continued on the same subject. “We’re not the old rah-rah show biz types, none of us. On with the show no matter what happens or what you feel like, go out and act like you’re having a great time. We’re not like that. We go on stage and we’re us.”

“It’s harder for us, because what we play is personal feelings. To us our music is a way of communication. When people come up to us afterward, if they say they don’t like our music, it hurts, because what they’re criticizing is us, personally. We are our music!”

“That’s something that’s never brought out,” said Jimmy. “When the Beatles and Stones and every group around go out on stage, they know every note they’re going to play. We don’t. We specialize in personal communication- 50% of what we do on stage is free-form. That’s what Yardbird music is based on.”

With Jimmy and Jeff, no matter what topic you start out with, you always end up on music. We drifted onto the subject of the classics because of a television show on guitars on which Jeff had appeared the night before, playing “Jeff’s Boogie.” The show had centered on classical guitar.

Said Jeff, “Playing the classics is like reading a poem. All the words and ideas are already written down for you.”

“What makes me angry,” Jeff added, “is when they referred to that kind of thing as serious music, as though ours was a joke. Any music is serious music if you take it seriously.”

Obviously, Jeff Beck and Jimmy Page take their music seriously- no wonder Yardbird fans around the world do the same.

Continued article written by Carol Gold from Teen Set March 1967

#jimmy page #the yardbirds #chris dreja #keith relf #jeff beck #jim mccarty #teen set #please tell me more about your vintage coat #and how obsessively you researched #certainly for the better he didn’t buy a confederate uniform #I’m glad jimmy got his old house to put his collections in #jimmy born in the wrong generation page #carol’s side notes crack me up #rip Keith’s golden locks #carol talks to Jimmy and oh yes the rest of the yardbirds #wonder if they were mad she only put in mostly Jimmy

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worldviewcast · 3 years

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The Origin of Worldview

So this is going to be a semi-personal, but also a semi-explanation post about alot of the background info regarding Worldview. Yes it’ll be a long somewhat boring wall of text for many of you, but to ME it’s words I feel need to be said and it would mean the absolute world to me if people would take the time to hear me out. Even if its only gonna be the five of you that continue on after this. Anyway...

Worldview technically started forming in my mind when I was probably about fifteen. (For reference, at the time of writing this, I’m about half a year to thirty-one) I was really into doing comics, I had done probably a hundred pages of a really dumb fantasy comic I came up with when I was TWELVE, a Sonic fancomic, and every morning on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, I would upload my micron inked and colored pencil story about some DnD characters into the school scanner to post on Drunkduck which is probably all still there today. Adventure’s Guild is missed in my heart, for sure. But in between looking for my first job, the constant writing and doodling I was doing, and my schoolwork I was tossing another idea around in my head. A really DUMB idea, cuz ya know I was FIFTEEN. And I wanted to call it ‘My Big Brother the Ninja’. At the time I was influence by all the dumb anime I was watching and my best friend at the time who always wore black and stood about two feet over me. I don’t know if he’ll ever read this, but trust me if he knew I was talking about this he would recognize this story right away. Well. My first job came around, along with my post secondary college work, and then a tech school I paid for, and.....life really started to get in the way of development. I was more focused on drawing Adventures Guild and other doodles for a long time, and soon enough taking care of my daughter took precedence over everything, and then I started sewing, and doing conventions....and the idea of ‘My Big Brother the Ninja’ was just stuck in the back of my head. Sitting. Waiting. Forming slowly as it waited for its existence - its time in the sun. And at some point I decided I wanted Android/Robotic like characters too...some of my FAVORITE series are Kikaider : The Animation and Chobits (the books, not the infants show they try to pass a a fully written anime) - things like that. So I KNEW long before Worldview had a proper name I would be writing robot characters with a twist. But I couldn’t figure out what that twist was, what would make it work. The whole idea was still....building. It needed a push. Right around the time My Hero Academia came around everyone with a creative mind seemed to be suddenly struck with a similar idea - what if unique powers WEREN’T so unique in a world? This is fairly common now, but at the start of MHA I remember finding it weird that suddenly every half the new shows out had a whole population of super powered badasses in a world where living daily life with it was more the norm than the exception. And I remember finding it REALLY weird this all came out the same time I evolving a similar idea for my own thing.... I wish I could prove I was evolving this ideas before I saw em but I can’t. I have a much deeper theory about the evolution of cultural art and how influences drive creative minds to similar conclusions but that’s a LONG mental dive for another day. ANYHOW.

So my original idea in ‘My Big Brother the Ninja’ was the Ninja would be the weird super power in the normal world. NOW I wanted the NINJA to be the ‘normal’ one...and the younger sister would be the WEIRD one because she DIDN’T have some sort of power or ability. I fell in love with this new dynamic and now things were REALLY starting to come together in my mind, what kind of powers were people gonna have, just HOW mundane was it gonna be, how many fantasy elements did I want to have? Because I already KNEW another element I really wanted to include was modern day Paladins - and YES I WILL be covering modern-day style Paladins in Worldview proper, but this meant the universe needed a Deity system, a hierarchy or pantheon. And the world just started to grow....but something was still MISSING, the binding, the elements of what all I wanted to do - Aaaaaaaaaand then came UNDERTALE. And yes this ENTIRE long post is just me mini ranting about how WV came to be so people can TRULY understand just HOW much is inside MY universe so we can stop tagging it as part of the UT Multiverse please and thank you - it’s not that I don’t UNDERSTAND the confusion, but here is your ultimate ‘for the record’ post regarding mine and @little-noko ‘s personal frustrations. Undertale was obviously a HUGE part of pop culture, personal experiences, my life, MANY of my readers lives, I GET why the emotional connection is there and why its the first thing that comes to mind - but the ONLY part I truly was fascinated by with Undertale was the way the Souls were. PHYSICAL Souls - an actual magical entity that represented a person - THIS idea. This was my missing piece. To say artists get inspiration from other artists is beyond an understatement - even Sans and Papyrus are references to Helvetica, right? If not references, inspired by, or ‘great minds think alike’, whatever your argument there....its not uncommon. And Souls being PHYSICAL was the element I wanted to play with - the idea I wanted to expand on, and so much more I want to go into detail about but don’t want to go into spoilers yet so I’m not going to - and the absolute CRUX of my frustrations when dealing with ‘WV is just UT with different characters’. Worldview has.....humans. Only humans, divided into four race. Mechanoid. Masic. Skeleton. Metazoan. (The last one exclusively because I wanted an excuse to draw cute cat girls, so sue me) A pantheon of Gods. It’s own world map. Special BIOLOGY that I have developed to work specifically with the races I have built. Ability trees (diagram to come, don’t worry, we’re just still working out the kinks). It’s own countries, nationalities, and even it’s own tangible form of afterlife which I blame watching WAY too much Supernatural on but HEY Reapers are freaking COOL man. It’s absolutely gut wrenching painful to have people argue with me over a world that I have nurtured and slowly tended to for a good fifteen years...now that it finally, FINALLY gets a chance to exist and be worked on....I feel like the one binding element I finally found and played with and tried to expand on is the ONLY element that people care about. As if absolutely EVERY other element that I want to show just - doesn’t EXIST. We started with Finch because its a good transition from the old projects to the new and it’s the earliest event in the timeline - nothing more than that. But I’m almost starting to feel like that was a mistake because it’s TOO familiar. There’s no going back now, and thats fine. But it does make me anxious to move on to the next ‘chapter’ we’ll be delving into. MAN. I hope that helps clarify a few things. I love answering questions (those that I can) about WV...so my ask box is always open. For those that made it, thanks for listening. :)

#alainatalks #worldview #worldview origins #long post #semi-rant #mostly annoyances I just wanted to get off my chest but I didn't want to be mean about it #its just REALLY frustrating on my end #XD #thank you #!!

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stars-self-ships · 3 years

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Y'all wanna see how hard I can gush over Centaurworld?

First of all... wow. Ever since I had made that post about expressing interest in starting Centaurworld when the weekend rolled around, I literally could not wait until Friday night to eventually sit down and watch as much as I could until I knew I had to get to bed. I was growing more and more intrigued as to what the show held, and knew full well that, worse case scenario, that I would think Centaurworld would be 'just alright'.

Centaurworld is phenomenal, and I'm not even done with it.

As I'm writing this, I'm halfway through the series, being on the fifth of the ten episodes of the first season. With that being said, I ask anybody who intends on interacting with this post to please not spoil anything, as it's super rare that I not only find a modern animated series that I like, but am as invested in it as I am.

Centaurworld tells the tale of a warhorse named Horse that is separated from her rider after a near-fatal fall. Somehow, Horse is transported to a strange, colorful world that is inhabited by centaurs with an affinity for singing. Horse immediately wants to find a way back to her own world to reunite with her rider, but finds that it's necessary to enlist the help of Wammawink and her herd if she wants to get anywhere.

I usually don't tend to listen to a lot of music with vocals (Or partake in musicals in general), but trust me when I say that the soundtrack for Centaurworld is, no joke, exclusively made up of absolute bangers. I think my favorite musical number so far is the one at the start of the second episode, Fragile Things, which I HIGHLY recommend you give a listen.

You might also notice that in the video I linked above that Centaurworld also possesses some nice animation; I find that the fluidity of Horse's animation is absolutely stellar. Before I watched Centaurworld, I wasn't expecting the animation to look as nice as it does, and in all honesty, I think that was because of how the show's general artstyle looks.

Which, need I remind you, goes from the first image below to the image underneath it in the span of five-ish minutes.

Like, how are these even from the same show? It's amazing.

Some people aren't very fond of the artstyle of Centaurworld, and while I can understand why, I personally find it endearing and befits its whimsical world. Between the immensely creative designs of the centaurs and the really cool scenery design, I quite like how the show itself looks.

Plus, there's a great deal of facial expressions throughout each episode's runtime that are nothing short of hilarious. Just look at these.

That last one comes completely out of left field and it actually got me to laugh embarrassingly loud when I first saw it.

Centaurworld's main cast (And characters in general) is just so good, too. It's really hard to pick a favorite from the six main characters, because there's something I like about just about all of them!

Wammawink (The pink alpaca taur) is high up on my favorite list because of how caring she is as well as how expressive she can be, and Ched (The finch taur who's in the second image under the cut) has a really good voice actor and boasts an outright hilarious 'tough guy' personality. Dude's signature magic power is that he can look handsome for eight seconds. Now that's comedy.

Though my interest in watching Centaurworld to begin with would not have blossomed if it weren't for one man... or, in this instance, taur...

Zulius.

One single piece of fanart of him was all it took for me to realize that not only had I fallen for him, but that Centaurworld also warranted a watch. Legitimately every second he's on-screen, I can't help but smile like a dork. I cannot get enough of his overly extravagant and egotistic personality.

Zulius was indeed the character I was referring to in the original post I made about Centaurworld a few days ago, and I can say with full confidence that he'll absolutely be on the F/O list in a good few days— really all I have to do is finish the ten episodes to narrow down the perfect image to use for his icon and think up a tag for him.

Once I finish Centaurworld, I plan on designing a S/I for its universe— how could I not? I feel like the artstyle would be very easy for me to replicate, and before even watching the first episode I had a pretty solid idea on what my Centaurworld S/I would look like; I'm thinking it should be a taur with a fauna-based bottom half, kind of like what Glendale has. I was going to settle on a sheep bottom half, but I've got plenty of sheep-based S/Is already.

Overall, what more can I say but what has already been said by a majority of those on tumblr who have given the series a chance: go watch Centaurworld. You will not regret it.

#F/O #F/O Gush #F/O Community #Self-Ship Community #Centaurworld #Zulius #Centaurworld self-shippers I KNOW you're out there.#I say this 'cause eventually I know I'm going to need Centaurworld mutuals to go off about Zulius to lol #What's funny is that I feel like Zulius won't be the only character I F/O from Centaurworld either.#As much as I want to say who else I intend on F/Oing I'm going to hold off until I finish the series #Just in case Centaurworld for some reason... y'know... does anything to the character.#If they do I'm rioting.#All I can say that she's going to be a Familial F/O. That right there should be a H U G E hint.

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ack3rlady · 3 years

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The Universe Had His Back - Chapter 5

Sunrise

Summary: The aftermath of the breathtaking encounter between reader and Levi when true feelings are revealed

Chapters: Four | Five | Six

Master List

Warnings: Fem! Reader, Angst, Fluff, Modern AU, Reference to alcohol abuse, slight swearing.

Word Count: ~ 2.5k

Inspiration: Starry Night - Suho

Tags: @sooibian, @queenofcurse, @red-n-tall ; Anyone else who'd like to be tagged, please let me know!

You accepted Levi’s offer to drive you home, a decision you would come to regret the moment the car was in motion. The journey was quiet, with you mostly looking out of the window as he drove. Your greed for more time with him that you didn’t account for how dejected you would go on to feel once the adrenaline dried out. You hadn't exactly ended things with him on amicable terms. The ride home in his company just added salt to the unhealed wounds. Levi turned his head towards you several times like he wanted to say something, but didn't.

“How’s Luna?”, your words finally cut through the silence, voice low and shaky.

“She’s fine. Isabel stayed at home with her today.”, he responded, eyes focused on the road.

Then it was quiet again. It took all the strength to bottle up the multitude of emotions building up within you that were burning to be expressed. So, you decided to focus your attention on the row of lush green trees along the sidewalk, whirring past you.

Levi quelled his desire to lay his hand on yours more than once; intertwining your fingers snugly together while you ran soothing circles on the back of his palm - something he always did while driving with you by his side.

‘Old habits die hard’, he thought. Neither of you uttered a word again till your apartment building was around the corner. You sat glued to your seat, unmoving even after he parked.

“You know that you could just come see her, right? She asks about you every day.”, Levi’s gaze was still fixed on the car parked in front of his own, his voice barely audible.

You sighed, feeling ashamed for depriving your own baby of your presence.

“I’m not ready. What if I can't keep it together in front of her? I need to get better before she sees me.” you despaired, looking down at your feet, too afraid of the effect on Luna if she saw you like this.

“I’m going to be right there with you. And how do you expect to get any better if you deny yourself the exact person who is capable of making you feel so?”, Levi turned in his seat to face you, placing a firm hand on your shoulder.

He was right. Of course, Luna was the only one who could pull you out of this abyss. Why had you been running away from her this whole time?

“C-Can I come see her after work tomorrow?”, you squeaked.

“You don’t have to ask. We’ll both be waiting for you.”, he whispered moving his hand to rest on top of yours.

You finally mustered up the courage to look towards him. He wore the same smile on his face that you had been in love with for the last eight years; the exact one that always assured you that everything was going to be okay.

Reader’s POV

You entered your apartment and laid the shopping bags on the counter. Taking off your shoes, you placed them neatly on the rack by the door, taking a little step towards keeping the word you gave Miche this morning. It was late in the evening; the Sun having just set. You glanced around your gloomy apartment, at the dark shadows and how even the brightest colored paints and fabrics looked somber in the dusk’s dullness. The eeriness of the space was starting to eat at you when something shiny on the kitchen platform caught your eye. It was a bottle of whiskey, its amber liquid gleaming in the residual rays of light entering through the window.

The conflict in your head began as you started walking towards it absentmindedly. Was tonight going to be the same as the other wretched ones of the last two weeks? Faces of Luna, Levi, Miche and Nanaba flashed before our eyes as you inched towards the humble kitchenette. Finally at your destination, you picked up the bottle and stared at it, putting up a hard fight against the demons in your head.

You jumped when the door to your apartment suddenly slammed open, making the bottle almost slip out of your hands.

"Sweets!", A loud voice called out to you, the light from the window reflecting off the intruder’s glasses.

It was a moniker given to you by your dear friend based on "your profession and character" as they liked to call it. But the truth was, it was a part of the 'couple name' they had created for you and Levi called 'Short and Sweet', earning them a few punches from the holder of the other half of the title.

“Hange, you almost gave me a heart attack! What are you doing barging into my apartment like this?”, you grumbled.

“Well, your door was unlocked. So, how was your run in with Shorty? Tell me everyth... What the fuck is that?”, they began with excitement, but it dissipated as soon as they switched the lights on and spotted what you held in your hands.

You looked like a thief caught in the act. Guilty.

“It-It's nothing. I wasn’t drinking it.”, you stuttered, hastily putting it away.

“You mean you hadn't started drinking it yet?”

They were probably right. That’s how your evenings usually began these days. You tried your hardest to conquer the need for a drink, only to eventually give in and ending up passed out somewhere in your apartment.

Your train of thought was interrupted by a knock. Miche and Nanaba tiptoed inside through the still unlocked door with guilty smiles, as if ready to turn on their heels in case if you decided to chase after them.

“So? How did it go with Ackermann?”, they asked eagerly in unison.

“Wait. Was my day broadcasted in the news or something? How do you already know?”, your face had a giant question mark stamped on it.

“Who do you think brought it all together?”, Hange grinned, proudly wiggling their eyebrows.

You furrowed yours, and audibly gasped seconds later when it hit you. The sequence of events played before your eyes; how each person you had seen today and led to you meeting Levi. First Miche and Nanaba, then Suki. Your jaw slacked, and you gaped at each one of them in complete disbelief at what they had just pulled off.

Miche quietly slithered to position himself closely beside you and wrapped his arm around your shoulders – a little too tight. Well, you were contemplating introducing their jaws to your fist, so you guessed he was just being cautious.

“Who else knew of this?”, you hissed.

“Not Shorty, if that’s what you’re asking. I cooked up the idea. But it was Erwin who played commander and assigned roles! Everything from you and Levi having the same day off work, Suki and Furlan pestering you two into going with them, Nanaba and Miche forcing you out of here, Isabel staying home with Luna so that Levi could leave, and now us being here to witness the success of our little project, it was brought together by him. In fact, Erwin is checking in on Levi as we speak!”, Hange exclaimed triumphantly.

You felt stupid after finding out that you and Levi got played by practically everyone you knew. How were they this good at keeping it under wraps?

“Why did you do this?” You asked.

“Because you are both too stupid realize how crazy you are about each other and how this estrangement is paining you. So, we just decided to nudge you in the right direction. You’re welcome, by the way!”, Nanaba grinned.

“What are you even talking about? He’s the one who willingly ended what we had.”, you despaired.

The memories of the months preceding the divorce were fresh in your mind. Levi couldn’t stand being in the same room as you for more than a few minutes at a time, constantly falling out with you over something or the other. You remembered how much it hurt when he always seemed irritated by your sheer presence.

“Rubbish! You should know by now that Shorty is a complete moron with his feelings. Don’t you remember how long he stalled asking you out on a date all those years ago? And also, how I finally had to ask you for him? This is history repeating itself, silly!”, Hange chuckled, gently flicking your forehead

“Erwin and I see him every day, Sweets. We know how much he regrets letting you go. But he’s too much of a chicken to do anything about it. We’ve been badgering him to reconnect with you for a while now. But he was terrified of making a move. The dumbass is utterly in love with you. Precisely why Erwin and I decided to take matters in our own hands.”, they stated matter of factly.

The barrage of information caught you completely off guard. But you couldn’t help but dwell on one detail in particular -

“He’s still in love with me?”

Levi’s POV

Levi felt restless on the drive back home, aimlessly fidgeting with his seatbelt and rapidly tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. He was worried about you. Well, he always was, but more so because of what happened today. He suppressed the constant urges to turn his car around and return to you because he needed to get home to Luna and relieve Isabel of her baby-sitting duties.

He parked the car in the driveway and walked through the front door, momentarily freezing upon seeing a tall blonde man seated on the couch with Luna half asleep on his lap, immediately relaxing after recognizing who it was. He was reading her a story from one of the many books you had bought while Isabel was lounging on the loveseat beside them, her face glowing under the light from her phone screen. All three turned to Levi upon hearing the jingling of his keys.

“Papa!”, the little one was refreshed by the sight. She ran to greet her father by wiggling her way off the man’s lap and on to the floor and hugged is leg.

“Hi, moon beam! Erwin, what are you doing here?”, he asked as he gave Luna a kiss and then looked up at the man.

“I’m here to check in on you. How was your meeting with uh... ahem?”, Erwin cleared his throat instead of mentioning your name in the toddler’s presence.

“Check in on me? How do you know about that? What did you do?”, Levi’s temper audibly rose with each question.

“I’m going to tuck Luna into bed, and you are going to wait right here for my return. We need to have a little chat.” he glowered at the taller blonde before he could answer, ignoring the sheepish smile slapped across his little sister’s face.

Luna was out cold the moment her head rested on the pillow given how worn out she was after horsing around with Isabel all day. Additionally, story time with Erwin already had her feeling drowsy by the time Levi had returned home. Ten minutes and a few goodnight kisses later, he was sitting at the dining table with the two adults, sipping tea that Erwin had just brewed.

“When do you plan to start telling me what is going on? I could have had dinner during the wait.”, he jibed.

“I take it that Suki and Furlan were successful in bringing you two face-to-face?”, Erwin’s tone was casual, maintaining steady eye contact with his old friend.

He proceeded to explain in great detail, how he and Hange worked with both your close friends to hatch this plan.

“Can’t you two keep your eyebrows and shitty glasses out of my fucking business?”, Levi growled.

“Since you both can’t communicate like mature adults and figure things out for yourselves, we had to step in as catalysts. Hange is at her apartment right now, making sure she’s okay.”, Erwin kept his defense short.

Levi was at a loss of words. Sometimes he felt like he wasn’t worthy of his two friends. Hange and Erwin always went out of their way for him when he was hit with a challenging situation, and all he ever did was snivel about it.

“Fine. I’ll give you both credit where you deserve it. I had been wanting to see her myself. But I didn’t know what to say. She is coming over tomorrow to see Luna. So, thanks, I guess.”

Erwin knew that this was the closest thing to an apology and appreciation that he was going to get from Levi. So, he took it with a smile.

“Awesome!”, Isabel's scream cut through the calmness.

“And you.”, his fiery gaze landed on her at the far end of the table where she strategically seated herself away from the reach of her older brother in case if he was particularly irked. “I’m going to take care of Furlan later. But you too are hiding things from me now?”,

“Hey! I was just following Erwin's orders! And how could I say no to having my favorite person all to myself for an entire day?”, she reasoned, her face resembling a cartoon cat that Luna was fond of; Puss in Boots, was it?

“So, how did it go?”, Erwin intervened before Levi could scold her further.

Levi took a minute to gather his thoughts. Images of your face flashed before his eyes, making his tense posture relax significantly.

“I - I don’t even know how to describe it. I feel like for the first time in forever, I might sleep well tonight just because I met her. She looked so beautiful.”, his lips showed signs of the smallest smile as he ran his fingers along the rim of his teacup, gazing at the dark liquid contained within.

He quickly composed himself after realizing that he had in fact just said these words out loud and they were not just in his head, but it was too late. Isabel oohed with amusement and yelped after receiving a flying spoon to the head from him.

“It was also... a stark reminder of what an absolute piece of shit I have been to throw away everything we had. She’s in so much pain.”, his softened expression clearly revealed the despair behind his words.

“As are you, Levi. You made a grave mistake. Unfortunately, you're not the only one who is paying for it. But there is no use lamenting over the past, is there? What counts is what you plan to do now. Have you decided what you will say to her when she visits?”

Levi let out a long, suffering sigh. “I regretted what I did the moment I came back to an empty home from the court that day, Erwin. Seeing her today only reaffirmed how shitty my life is without her. I need to win her back. I’m afraid she’ll reject me after what I did to her. But - But she still needs to know that I -

I’m still in love with her.”

Chapters: Four | Five | Six

#levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman #attack on titan #snk #shingeki no kyojin #levi ackerman x fem!reader #levi ackerman fluff #levi ackerman angst #levi ackerman fic #levi ackerman imagine #levi ackerman headcanons #domestic levi #dad!levi #aot fic #aot x reader

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peachy-panic · 3 years

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Only Temporary: Sebastian Tate

Hello. I was completely blown away by the positive response I got on the first piece of Jaime’s story (title under construction). Thank you to everyone who had a kind word to say about it! You made me really happy I made the mildly frightening choice to post.

In the interest of acclimating to the no-rules, freedom-to-post-out-of-order structure of this community, I wanted to introduce a new piece of the puzzle this time, with a new character that will come into play later.

Also, this piece goes into a little bit of the details, but for frame of reference on the BBU-adjacent thing: this story takes place in a not-so-distant future of the BBU, where WRU has undergone some changes. I look forward to exploring this world building more as I go.

Anyway, I’m rambling again. Thanks for reading. Here it is:

WARNINGS: General BBU warnings, talk of institutionalized slavery, classism, and general terribleness of large corporations. Referenced past homophobia and rough parental relationships, briefly implied/referenced non-con.

When Sebastian reflects on the day he graduated from med school, a sort of emptiness is the memory that first bobs to the surface. Among the cheers and camera flashes in the crowd, white coats and proud smiles, what Sebastian recalls most vividly from that day is looking out into the sea of parents and families and people there to support their loved ones on one of the biggest days of their lives, and not seeing a single person that had come for him.

What should have been one of the happiest moments of his life had been quickly overshadowed by the sinking feeling that none of it mattered as much as it would have if he had someone to share it with. Like there was something so fundamentally wrong with his life, that even something as objectively good and right and decent as becoming a doctor could be dulled over into a feeling of nothingness.

Perhaps, he thinks in hindsight, that moment had been foreshadowing for the following months ahead of him.

Watching rejection after rejection pour in from his top residency programs had felt like nothing short of his own personalized nightmare. He had spent several nights in a row on the phone with Alex, his undergrad roommate and only friend, clamoring back from the edge of many a panic attack, spiraling into all-out existential dread about the future and the past and what all of it meant for him if he couldn’t land an internship, let alone a real job out of school. To his credit, Alex never gave up hope in his friend. Or at least, he did a decent job hiding it if he did. Which was probably exactly what Sebastian needed to get through that particularly dark time in his life, and a good reminder of what a solid friend he had. Even if it was a party of two.

Unfortunately, Sebastian did not have the same faith in himself.

He was able to keep up some facade of optimism as his top five were picked off one by one. Telling himself, despite his devastation, that they were a pretty far reach, anyway. Even with good academic standing, it was famously no walk in the park to land yourself at John Hopkins or Mayo as a first-year. He even maintained a brave face as his first few safety programs reached capacity and moved forward without his name on the roster.

It wasn’t until he received his final rejection letter from some internal medicine place in Bumfuck, Idaho that he felt himself slip into dangerous territory. Sebastian knew himself well enough to know his own depressive patterns by then, and he knew it was only exponential decay from there.

Rock bottom came, as it did, in the wee hours of the night, after a full bottle of wine. Alone in his small apartment, surrounded by half-packed boxes with no destination, Sebastian found himself sprawled out on the floor with his laptop hot against his thighs. He couldn’t have explained why he opted for a privacy browser, but something about it allowed him to justify the words that he typed into the search bar.

It was a new low, and one he had sworn to himself he would never stoop to. Yet there he was.

He gave himself a moment to reconsider, to back out of what was undoubtedly a morally-gray train wreck waiting to happen as his thumb hovered over the enter key. And then the alcohol decided to override his moral compass.

Facility Care is the open secret of the medical profession. It comes with its fair share of stigma, and rightfully so, but it is notoriously easy to break into and pays a decent wage.

There are two types of people who end up stooping to that kind of employment. More often than not, it consists of doctors and nurses who had their licenses revoked or suspended somewhere along the line and needed a way back in. As far as Sebastian understood, they aren’t terribly ridgid about the particulars of each circumstance. After all, in the eyes of the law, the patients they would be treating are a price tag away from being entirely expendable.

The other percentage of Facility Care workers, and the reason Sebastian found himself staring at his too-bright computer screen with a sinking feeling of dread that night, are young medical graduates who find themselves in a tough spot. It isn’t difficult to spell out the logic behind that one when you open the WRU CAREERS tab on the home page and see the bright white words printed across the top of the screen:

LOAN FORGIVENESS.

It is shamelessly predatory and aggressively capitalistic, but Sebastian supposes that particular exploitation is pretty far down on the list of transgressions for an institution of legalized slavery. A few broke and hopeless medical students were hardly going to keep the Powers That Be up at night when they were able to rest easy under the weight of hundreds of thousands of stolen lives.

The whole thing is part of the massive PR overhaul the company did a few years back. In a world that was slowly inching toward civil activism and with the accessibility of platforms like social media to hold them accountable, WRU had to adapt to survive. Adaptation, in this case, took the form of changing the barest of minimums in order to keep themselves above board — to the public eye, anyway. Anyone who dares to take a closer look at the policy changes can see that it’s bullshit.

Changing ownership conditions to a rent-by-contract basis isn’t the humanitarian move they try to paint it as. In the end, it probably just equals out to more money in the company’s pocket when they can get more return on their “investments,” and a larger chance of exploitation for the people being moved around.

Getting rid of the Romantic division is an entirely meaningless gesture when they are still loaning out human beings with no legal rights and the inability to say “no.”

And offering an open job market with good wages and healthcare options to lower class individuals is a pretty convenient way to mute the backlash.

Essentially, you can tie a system of slavery and abuse up in a bow and make it pretty on the outside, but at the end of the day, it’s still fucking slavery.

Not that he has any room to criticize now. Now that he’s one of them.

In the end, Seb tries to justify his decision a few different ways. He is, after all, more or less a young man alone in the world. The odds are stacked against him and have been for a while. With only his own two legs to stand on, the only force stronger than his internal ambition is his instinct for survival, and he’s been running on those fumes for longer than he can count.

He had lasted less than two months under his parents’ roof after he came out of the closet at eighteen. It wasn’t exactly a surprise for anyone involved; Sebastian’s parents had known about (and subsequently bottled) his… urges… since he was in high school. Probably before that, if he is being honest with himself. And Sebastian, for his part, had spent the better part of his teenage years mentally preparing for the inevitable. He can recall long, late nights he had spent crying into his pillow and the perfectly-scripted ‘coming out’ speeches he recited to his mirror when he was one-hundred percent sure his parents were asleep.

Of course, none of the preparation had been anywhere near adequate when he actually found himself wilting beneath the heat of his father’s glare, the weight of his mother’s grief.

But. He had recovered. That is the point he tries to remember when the memories sting fresh beneath his skin, even all these years later. He has more-than proven himself to be a survivor. He has worked harder than anyone he knows for every scholarship, every grant, every dollar to put himself through school. Sacrificed nights out and real relationships for night shifts at shitty diners and long weekends cramming for exams. It hadn’t been easy, but he considers it the price he had to pay for his independence. For freedom, to live the life as the person he is meant to be, despite his unfortunate odds. He spent years telling himself it would be worth it. That one day, his hard work would pay off.

He can’t stop now.

Sebastian doesn’t have the luxury of taking time off to reroute when his navigation has gone amiss. He is walking the precarious line of rapidly accruing interest and student loans and a dwindling savings account, and there is no safety net below him.

Beggars can’t be choosers, and as it turns out, beggars sometimes have to compromise their moral integrity in order to survive.

It’s only temporary.

That is the mantra that gets him through the (half-drunken) application process and the (disturbingly lax) interview process. It is a job. One job. In the medical field, though the details are up for debate, and it is real-life money for rent and food and a savings that will hopefully be sizable enough to get him where he really wanted to be. Which is… really, anywhere else.

He can do ‘temporary.’ And perhaps, some misguided part of him thinks he can do some genuine good from the inside, too. ‘Be the change you want to see’ and all that.

It is a far jump from the floor of his apartment, sloshed and exhausted and desperate, to the cold, sharp reality of walking into his place of employment on his first day of work. Ironically, it feels a lot like an echo of the emptiness from his graduation day.

‘Sterile’ doesn’t quite cover it. ‘Sterile’ is the expectation of any well-respected medical establishment, but the inside of the facility walls has been wiped clean of far more than bacteria and germs. It is completely devoid of humanity. The long corridors that connect the medical wing to the general ward are windowless and dimly lit by flickering fluorescent panels that had make his head pound for the entirety of his first week.

He is given an office, though it is a term he, himself, might use loosely, as it is more akin to what was probably a storage closet before the old prison had been converted into the state’s training headquarters. It leaves him just enough space for a small desk and two chairs. On his first day, he asks if it is okay to bring in some personal items to spruce the place up. The older, balding doctor who had been assigned to show him around merely shrugs, and Sebastian decides to take that as a yes.

The small, pink-framed photo of a six-year-old Sebastian Tate in his grandfather’s white coat and an old-school stethoscope around his neck is hardly enough to make the place cozy from the corner of his desk, but it’s a good enough reminder of why he has to make this work.

‘It’s only temporary.’

‘Be the change you want to see.’

He will do his best.

#Sebastian Tate #bbu #like bbu adjacent?#tw: human trafficking #tw: slavery #implied noncon #whump #Do No Harm: Jaime & Sebastian

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megs-mostly-past-random-fandoms · 3 years

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Memory

Based on this request: heya! can’t wait for your fics! i’d like to request a sherlock one. him and john find her (as a victim) at the scene of a crime. she’s very shaken up and as john is a doctor he takes her back to baker st so he and molly can check her over. she has some gaps in her memory from the accident so sherlock insists she stays so he can be there and speak to her as soon as the memory comes back…it ends up with them having a lil thing for each other and john has to talk sherlock into asking her out?

Fandom: Sherlock(BBC)

Warnings: Mentions of temporary amnesia and trauma. A little fluff-ish.

Pairings/Characters: Sherlock Holmes x fem!reader, John Watson

Witnesses weren't always reliable. Especially when those witnesses were also victims. Sherlock knew this. But he also knew that you were the only living person who could give him answers. Too bad you couldn't seem to remember anything other than your name and basic information. NOTHING! It frustrated Sherlock to no end. So, when John first suggested he take you to hospital, Sherlock denied it outright.

"No. There is no point. She'll stay with us. That way I can speak with her the moment her memory returns. You and Molly can look after her in the medical sense while we wait." John wanted to argue, but knew better. That was how you found yourself in the back of a cab, squeezed between the two gentlemen.

You were quiet as you tried to piece together what had happened that night. The only thing you could remember was that, thanks to a little bit of luck, you'd managed to narrowly escape a violent end. You weren't even sure you wanted to or if you even could remember what happened, especially with those intense blue eyes of the consulting detective studying your every move. At least you'd have a place to stay that wasn't a hospital until you could remember where you lived.

Days passed and you still didn't remember everything. Bits and pieces here and there, but not enough for Sherlock to put all the pieces together. You knew something. Something that could break the case wide open. He just needed you to remember. Meanwhile, you seemed to enjoy being in the flat. You were clearly a social creature in certain situations and you liked someone's company. Sherlock thought it was John's or Molly's(who came by every day to check on you), or even Mrs. Hudson's.

"For such a genius, you can be a right idiot, you know that?" John asked him one evening after you'd gone to bed. Sherlock didn't even look at him. "So you keep reminding me, Watson. To what instance are you referring to this time?" John sighed and took a sip of his tea. "Y/N. She likes you. And I'm certain you like her as well."

"Don't be ridiculous. You know how I feel about…normal people." Sherlock didn't have to look to know that John rolled his eyes at that. "Sherlock, I know you better than that now. She's beautiful and intelligent. You can tell that by spending five minutes with her. She's put you in your place more than once. I think she'd be good for you, if you gave it a chance."

Sherlock pretended not to hear him. Now wasn't the time for his silly romantic tendencies. Still, he did have a point. Despite your lack of memory at the moment, you truly were an intelligent woman. Not on Sherlock's level, of course, but still, you seemed to keep your mind open to learning and Sherlock could appreciate that. As he sat with his fingers together under his chin, an idea formed in his mind. If you were as smart as he thought, maybe he could get through to you and help you recover your memory.

"This wasn't exactly what I meant by taking her on a date, Sherlock," John whispered to him the next evening. They were both looking at you, sitting on the floor with your legs crossed, waiting for Sherlock to continue his lesson. You were wearing one of Sherlock's shirts since you had no clothing of your own except what you had been wearing the night of the incident and those were currently being washed. "Nonsense. You know I don't allow personal relationships interfere with a case, but you insisted I spend time with Y/N. What better way to do both?"

John scoffed and shook his head in disbelief. He shouldn't have been surprised. This was Sherlock after all and the case came first. In this instance, that meant teaching you how to access your own Mind Palace. So John watched as Sherlock sat across from you once more and tried to get you to access your own mind.

After a while, you grew frustrated and went to stand up. However, you froze about half way there. Without taking your eyes off Sherlock, you sank back down as tears sprang into your eyes. "Oh, god. I-I remember. Oh, god," you whispered before getting up to run to the bathroom, slamming the door behind you. Whatever it was you remembered had rocked you to the core.

*time skip*

"Thank you," you told Sherlock softly as you left Scotland Yard. You'd finished telling the police what it was you remembered so they could finish closing the case. Sherlock looked down at you and gave an almost imperceptible nod. "I-I suppose I should return home now that I remember where I live." You raised your hand to hail a taxi.

In the brief seconds between your words and the arrival of the taxi, Sherlock found himself confused. John's words kept playing in his mind. Well, it didn't help that John was on his other side, nudging him with his elbow. "Ask her out," he hissed, "Ask her or lose your chance." Sherlock sighed and pulled out his phone.

"You're texting? Now?" Sherlock ignored John's exasperated gasp and let his gaze travel back to you. Your brows furrowed when your phone vibrated in your pocket. Pulling it out, you read the text and smiled.

Dinner? Pick you up at 7 o'clock on Saturday.

-S

You glanced back at Sherlock and nodded as you climbed into the taxi. The smile never left your face, even when the taxi drove off to take you home. Sherlock waved down a car for John and himself, his mind bouncing in all different directions as he planned his perfect date with you.

(a/n: I hope this is what you wanted! Tag lists are open, if anyone would like to be tagged in the fics.)

#bbc sherlock #sherlock holmes #sherlock holmes x reader

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breitzbachbea · 3 years

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If I'd done it [Hetalia Fanfic]

I've finally finished the Fic I've been mentioning in this post for the Cell Block Tango AU. Summary: Herakles and Sadık need a third person for their part of the "Cell Block Tango". Their Egyptian friend declined, but luckily, Michele says yes. Characters: Greece, Turkey, Sicily (my OC), Italy Romano, Spain, Hungary, Austria, Denmark, Norway Ships: Spamano, AusHun, DenNor (briefly), TurGre, whatever the fuck is going on with Turkey, Greece and Sicily Rating: Teen? Mature? Look kids, I won't tag this nsfw, but beware of fumbling and some implied raunchyness. Word count: 2465

Human names used - Michele is Sicily. Foreign words are marked in red and translations are provided at the end. That's where I'll also put a picture of my boy Michele for visual reference.

Likes/Reblogs appreciated! <3

The changing room was more than comfortable for two people to share, but five felt like a crowd.

Lovino had been trying on his outfit, with Antonio’s eager help. Sometimes, the usual look of happiness and eagerness had been dropped for a second, eyes flitting to some part of the scantily clad – if at all – body to leer.

Michele wondered if Antonio had been aware that Lovino could have seen some of these looks still through the mirror.

Herakles and Sadık had ended up in the dressing room to talk with Michele about joining their number for the performance.

Herakles leant against the unused vanity while Michele stood next to him with a laptop on his arm. They had folded up one of the dressing screens to make room; Sadık’s invitation to sit on the perfectly fine couch with him, Michele had declined.

The laptop was playing the Cell Block Tango scene from “Chicago” and had just reached Velma’s part. Herakles’. The one Michele would be joining, if he said yes.

An expression of alarm and something else crept onto Michele’s face. Guilt, maybe, the catholic guilt that was hardwired into him ever since he had converted in medieval times.

Once the song moved on, his expression mellowed out. Every now and then however, he had thrown furtive glances to Herakles – and once or twice even more furtive ones to Sadık.

“That’s … interesting.” He finally closed the laptop and put it down on the vanity while he gathered himself and his thoughts. When he straightened up, he nearly found himself face to face with Herakles. “I won’t lie though, I have a few … worries when it comes to helping you out.”

“Which would be?” Herakles asked and smiled at him. “It’s not the outfit, is it? You won’t be standing out, I can assure you that.”

Michele gave a short laugh, deep and confident. “Oh, trust me, I have no problems with dolling up.” He smiled but it couldn’t hide the alarm in his eyes as he carried on, with his gaze averted from Herakles. “The entire spreadeagle part is what worries me.”

“Why, are you afraid that I’ll drop you?” Sadık asked. He got up and stood on Herakles’ other side. “You have a bit more meat on your bones that Mohammed, but that’s no problem for me.” He took a half-step past Herakles to pat Michele on the back.

High enough to be innocent, but low enough to evoke a lingering doubt about friendly intent, despite Sadık trading the grin on his face for a smile.

Michele’s lips twitched into a smile for a second as response. The eyes didn’t smile along any more than before.

“Don’t be holier than the pope.” It came from the other side of the small dressing room. “You’re nothing special,” Lovino carried on. “So don’t get your knickers in a twist over a little bit of dirty dancing.” He was concerned with his eyeliner.

“And I am sure that you would have no problems dry humping Antonio on stage, but that’s not stuffing your face into someone else’s crotch.”

Lovino had first winced at Michele’s nonchalant but spiteful tone, but grinned in much the same way soon. “You don’t have to stuff your face into someone else’s crotch, but go ahead if you’re into it.”

Lovino snorted and Michele’s eyes narrowed while he glared at him.

“Now, now, you two, no need to be so mean,” Antonio said and patted Lovino’s shoulder. He apparently had felt the need to be a mediator, to placate, as he used to do when the “Kingdom of the two Sicilies” had resided under his roof.

“I almost stabbed myself in the eye!” Lovino complained.

“Oh, sorry, mi cielo.” Antonio let out a nervous laughter and patted Lovino on the shoulder again. Lovino’s fingers tightened around his eyeliner pencil.

Michele snorted. He crossed his arms in front of his chest with an amused chuckle.

“Michele, it’s just for fun, you know, fun and making art,” Antonio said to him. The smile stayed, but his eyebrows furrowed. “Although I get that the choice of partner for a number like this maybe isn’t ideal.”

Sadık turned around to him, brows knitted and shoulders tensed. “What’s that? You want to say that ‘choice of partner’ thing to my face?”

Lovino and Herakles rolled their eyes.

“Stop it, you two,” Michele said. Empires were good at escalating, but their strengths had never been placating. It was a skill of the ones under their rule, if they wanted maximize their time to live and minimize their scars. Little places in this world had more time than Michele to hone it. “It’s a choice of partner – partners – I’m willing to make.” He turned to Herakles and Sadık. “Before you have to pester another soul with it.” The other two giggled and a smirk appeared on his lips. “Besides, fun, art, that sounds like a good time.” He chuckled, eyes half-lidded and fixed on Herakles, before he sauntered over to Lovino. He tugged at the strap of his bra and let it snap back, which made Lovino jump and yelp. His lipstick had gone completely awry, a thick red line now ran down his chin.

“Should go for a number smaller, then it might actually makes it look like you’ve got some tits,” he said but seemed to ignore, if not entirely miss, the furious glare that Lovino threw him via the mirror.

“Uh, you need help, mi amor?” Antonio asked Lovino and held out a pack of make-up wipes, but now it was Lovino’s turn to ignore.

Glare still fixed on Michele’s likeness in the mirror, he said: “Depends.” His head snapped to Antonio. “Can you get rid of this blight that calls itself my cousin?!”

“Ah, Lovi, I mean …“ Antonio began, a nervous furrow to his brows as he smiled.

Lovino put the lipstick down, adjusted his bra strap and snatched the wipes from his hand.

Before Antonio could talk to Michele, who had been watching the entire situation with a smirk that had gotten more gleeful by the second, the door opened.

“Oh.” Erzsébet stopped in her tracks and looked around one. “I guess this is already occupied.” Roderich was behind her, a cardboard box with a lid in his hands.

“Kind of,” Antonio said. “But Lovino’s almost done.”

“Unless someone decides to interrupt me some more,” Lovino answered and glared at Michele over his shoulder.

Michele rubbed his finger underneath his lower lip. “You’ve missed some lipstick there.”

“You’ll have to scratch out lipstick from the inside of your eye socket if you won’t shut it.”

“Sounds like I came just a little too late.” Erzsébet said to Herakles and sighed. “Pity.”

Herakles’ eyes widened a little and his eyebrows rose slowly. “Oh, we … actually only needed a quiet place to talk with Michele about the performance.”

Now Erzsébet’s eyebrows rose in surprise, before a determined furrow settled between her brows. “In that case I’m sure that you can convince him just fine elsewhere! I need to get changed!” She made a shooing gesture with her hands.

Herakles chuckled to himself and turned to take the laptop from the vanity. Sadık was faster and took it under his arm.

“You really should say yes!” Erzsébet had turned to Michele in the meantime and gave him a bright smile. “The more, the merrier!” She bumped him friendly on the arm. There was an excited sparkle in her eyes that jumped over and made Michele smile wider. “We’ll dance and you’ll get a pretty outfit, I think you’re going to regret it if you’re saying no.”

“Oh, I already said yes,” he replied and Erzsébet’s face lit up. “Let’s see if I’ll regret it or not.” He chuckled.

“I’m sure you won’t!” She laughed and gave him a quick hug.

“Maybe it’ll do you some good being spun around,” Lovino said. He put the lipstick cap back on with a click. “Your brain is in dire need of some oxygen.”

“Save some hot air for your head and zip it,” Michele replied.

Roderich cleared his throat. “As far as I see it, you’re done here then.”

“Yeah, yeah, we’re already gone, four eyes,” Sadık said, but ignored both Roderich’s subtle look of disapproval and Erzsébet’s more pointed glare.

“Just let me get over the doorstep without an international incident behind my back,” Herakles said, grabbed Sadık’s wrist and put a hand on Michele’s shoulder.

“I wouldn’t cause an international incident,” Michele said while Roderich and Erzsébet stepped aside to let them leave. “It would be a domestic politics crisis.” Herakles sighed, Sadık snorted and Michele grinned.

When he was on the doorstep, Herakles and Sadık already in the corridor, he turned to Erzsébet. “Ah, but before I forget it – don’t you also think that Lovino’s costume would be improved by a bra that’s a size smaller?” Lovino’s fingers cramped around the lace skirt he had been adjusting and he audibly sucked air in through his nose while his jaw clenched.

“Don’t let it get to you, here, I’ll help you.” Antonio put his hands on Lovino’s. “You just relax.”

“Hmm?” Erzsébet stopped unfolding the dressing screen and looked over to Lovino. Roderich went to deal with the screen instead. She cocked her head. “Hm.” This one was of a more contemplative nature. “Yeah, I can see what you mean.”

“Bella, I appreciate that all of you are so concerned about me making a bella figura.” Lovino smiled at her, white teeth shining between red lips. Antonio fumbled with his skirt. “But it’s also really none of your business.”

“I can see their point, too, though,” Antonio said. He rested his hands on Lovino’s hips and his head on his shoulder. “You’re already beautiful, but I’m sure it would improve our performance if …” Antonio’s hand travelled up Lovino’s sides, as he had seemingly forgotten everyone in the room. “… I had something to really focus on while you pin me on the floor. Something jumpingat me.” His hands slid over Lovino’s ribs headed for his chest.

There was a loud clank and an even louder sigh from Roderich when he put his forehead against the dressing screen’s wooden frame. “Dear lord, have some decency!” He said and Antonio jumped even before Lovino’s heel had come down on his foot.

“¡Ay!” He winced and dropped his hands. “L-lo siento …” He met Lovino’s glare and bared teeth with a sheepish smile. Both their ears burnt bright red.

Roderich turned to Erzsébet. “For how long will I have to endure this, Sissi? The next weeks? Really?”

Michele chuckled low in his throat, lips pulled into a smirk, and shut the door.

“You should actually worry about your own costume,” Herakles told Michele as they walked down the corridor. “Now that you agreed, we should get it made next thing.”

“Made? Not altered?” Michele asked with one eyebrow raised.

“They’re all custom made,” Herakles replied.

“I thought more along the lines of that if you asked Mohamed, too, that you would have a costume made already. Nice to know that you two were really confident that someone would say yes to your request.” He smirked and chuckled to himself.

“You said yes,” Herakles replied and the smirk on Michele’s face thinned. The smile on Herakles’ face grew.

“Ah, you’re right.” Michele sighed and scratched what was exposed of his chest. “Maybe I should shave as well. I’ll also show some cleavage, won’t I?”

“Shave for what?” Sadık asked. “Chesthair has only ever improved a pretty rack. I won’t shave shit for sure.”

Michele dropped his hand. “No one’s going to see yours, so what would be the point, anyways?”

“Oh no no no, I get to wear an open shirt,” Sadık answered. “And an open back, to show off the suspenders underneath.”

“Maybe you should shave your back hair, actually,” Herakles said and wiped the self-pleased grin off Sadık’s face.

“Shut up, brat, I don’t have back hair.”

“It sounds like a lovely costume,” Michele said and Sadık’s good mood returned.

“You’ll love it. I get to wear a stupid hat, too!”

Michele chuckled and snorted. “Are you also going to wear the mask to complete the look?”

“Course!” Sadık put his free arm around his shoulders and leant his head down to be roughly at the same height as Michele’s. He could barely see his face from the corner of his eyes, but he heardthe grin in the low, deep voice. “Especially if it puts you at ease with the ‘spreadeagle’ thing.”

He lifted his head enough to push it into Michele’s field of view. Eyes half lidded, a bright grin on his face and a chuckle slipping past his lips. Sadık’s chest against his shoulder, he could feel it as much as hear it.

Michele smirked faintly for a reply and hoped that the burning in his ears was merely a remnant of Sadık’s hot breath near them. He turned to Herakles. “The things I do for you, Erculi.”

It’s just his breath, he thought again when Herakles leant down to kiss him on the cheek. “It’s appreciated, Mihalis.”

They passed another changing room.

“That thing has entirely too many straps.” Mathias’ voice came through the door muffled but intelligible.

The three stopped.

“It has not, if you weren’t such a dimwit!” That was Lukas.

“ … weren’t they already in there when we had been looking for a place to talk?” Michele whispered.

“I think so,” Herakles whispered back.

A defeated sigh from the changing room.

“I’ll fix it, min skat, just fix your make – up.”

Sadık whistled and Herakles slapped the back of his head. Michele began to walk again, his pace a little brisker than before.

“Ouch!” Sadık glared at Herakles with furrowed brows and caught up with the two. “What was – “

“Why the hell did you think we were whispering, you oaf?” Herakles asked him.

“If that’s the general atmosphere here,” Michele interrupted their argument, “then I’ll have my costume ordered, made, delivered and put on before anyone even left their changing room.”

“Especially if I’d lend you a helping hand while getting dressed,” Herakles said, the edge his voice had for Sadık completely smoothed over by honey sweetness.

“Mhm.” Sadık‘s hand settled between his shoulder blades. “Those costumes can be quite tricky.”

The corners of Michele’s mouth twitched into a sour smile. He could write any blush to his ears off as annoyance now, even if not to himself. “Oh, the things you’d do for me, Erculi.”

He was either going to regret his agreement direly or be rewarded handsomely for it during the next weeks.

Maybe both. A shiver ran down his spine.

Translations: "mi cielo" = "my sweetheart" "mi amor" = "my love" "bella" = "Beautiful" "bella figura" = "fare una bella figura" means "to cut a fine figure". Italians are always concerned with their image. "¡ay!" = "ouch!" "Lo siento ..." = "I'm sorry ..." "min skat" = "my darling"

And here's Michele Vento, done by C0FFINATED over on twitter

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