#certainly better than that movie that doesn't exist | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

scuttling · 1 year

Text

Flicker in the Dark - Jacob Black/Reader

Fandom: Twilight Saga Pairings: Jacob Black/Female Reader Word Count: 12,598 Tags: 18+, NSFW, Pining, Unprotected sex, Slightly aged up (Jacob is 20), Fix it fic Summary: My take on New Moon, if all of the characters were a bit more mature and Jacob got his girl. A/N: This is a third-person story that pairs Jacob with a girl who isn't Bella but who fills her role in the story; Bella doesn't exist in this universe because I find she's not as interesting to write as an original character, for me personally. The character has no name and no physical description, so treat her as an OC or a "reader," your choice there. :)

Keep reading below or link to AO3!

Bringing the idea of fixing the bikes to Jacob was the best thing she’s ever done: the best, and one of the dumbest, by far.

They both have adult obligations now—she has class, and a part-time job, which are thankfully both online, and Jake works full time—so when the stars align and they’re free at the same time, they spend every moment in his garage like a couple of bored kids. They listen to music on his dad’s old radio, eat pizza and tacos standing up much more often than they should; Jacob isn’t twenty-one just yet, but they’re on the rez, so they sip beers sometimes, especially on the rare warm days where the sun shines into the garage and sweat prickles at their hairlines.

He’s taller at twenty than he was when he was younger, broader and more filled out, like he’d said back on her birthday; she notices, sometimes, things like the tightness of his t-shirts stretched across his back, the way his jeans fit just, extraordinarily well. Those kinds of things you can’t help but notice, even if you’re emotionally, physically, and mentally unavailable, the way she is.

He pokes fun at her age—forever a sore spot, especially when Edward is and will be twenty-two forever—but she catches him noticing her, too, sometimes, so she’s not a total embarrassment at least.

It doesn’t happen right away, like magic or anything, but hanging out in his garage does make her feel better; he makes her feel better, if she’s being honest with herself. He quiets the chatter in her brain, the anxiety, the self-doubt, and she smiles more when she’s with him, laughs more, gets out of her own head. She’s happier when she’s with him, too, bikes or no bikes—though the roar of the restored motorcycle engine certainly doesn’t hurt—and he’s good for her, there’s no denying that.

She remembers her dad’s advice, even more meaningful now that she’s moved out of his house and living on her own—sometimes, you gotta learn to love what’s good for you—and she even thinks she could, some days.

That’s easy enough to say to herself, but so, so much harder in practice. She can tell Jacob is… interested, when they go to the movies, with the way he lays his hand on the armrest, palm up, in case she wants to hold it. Part of her wants to, really wants to; part just thinks about Edward and she clams up, can’t do it. She feels guilty, like she’s doing something wrong, even though he left her and not the other way around.

She still loves him, will always love him, but Edward made his choice; she just wishes she felt free enough to make her own.

She feels guilty when they ride, too, because the one thing he’d asked of her was not to be reckless, and now she goes out of her way to find a rush wherever she can. Anything legal, be it motorcycles, rock climbing, running, skydiving, really, really big roller coasters—you name it, she’s done it, and though none of it ever worked as well as she’d hoped it would, she never stops trying.

She knows better than to give herself over to things like drugs or binge drinking or meaningless one-night stands, but aside from that the limits to what she will try are almost non-existent. She loves the thrill of it all, loves feeling brave, feeling strong; In the end, she may wind up with a few cuts and bruises, but as long as she’s hurting no one but herself, she doesn’t feel too bad.

When she hurts Jacob, she feels awful, terrible, and she does hurt him—he’s so hurt for a while that he doesn’t want to see her, doesn’t even return her calls. She feels weak for the first time in a long time, like if she’d just been able to be what he wanted, to hold his hand, to kiss him, to get over herself, they both would have been happier. Now she just feels sad, and selfish, hurting the one person who has always been there for her, who’s always eased her pain.

She wants to respect his space, can’t bear the thought of hurting him more than she already has, but her anxiety gets the better of her; no amount of kickboxing or rock climbing has been able to take her mind off of him since that night at the movies, when he left in such a hurry. Even Edward has shifted to the back of her mind, though she has no idea when exactly that happened.

So she goes to him. Against his wishes. In the pouring rain.

She’s so, so stupid.

He’s so, so shredded, even more so than usual; it’s the first thing she notices only because he’s soaking wet and shirtless and that makes it pretty obvious. The second thing she notices is his hair, no longer long and pulled back with a cord of leather, but cropped short, though inky black as always. The third thing she notices is the tattoo, a large, tribal design on his shoulder that looks well-healed even though she saw him less than a week ago.

She catalogs all of that, and then she remembers he’s avoiding her and that she’s here to ask for forgiveness (she’s willing to beg, but it’s sort of a last resort.)

She calls his name, but he doesn’t turn around at first, not until she’s right in front of him, fists balled angrily at her sides.

“Jacob, I’m sorry… I’m sorry about the movie. Can we talk about it?” He huffs an unamused laugh, takes half a step closer; that kind of thing used to be playful, but now it seems almost menacing, between the muscles and the tattoo and the deepening frown on his face.

“This isn’t about that. You–you need to leave. Now.” The tone of his voice leaves no room for argument… but then again, that’s never stopped her before. She steps closer too, more of a challenge than anything.

“Well if it’s not about that, what is it? What happened?” He turns away as if to leave and she reaches for him, fingers latching onto his wrist. She knows right away that when she tugs, and he turns, it’s because he let it happen; there’s no way anyone could force him to do anything now, not with how big he is, how strong, how solid beneath her hand. “Is it Sam? Did he get to you too?”

“I was wrong about Sam. He’s helping me through it—just like he helped the others,” he says, but it sounds odd to her ears. If something was wrong, if he’d needed help, he would have come to her… right? “I can’t do this right now—you have to go. Please go.”

Before, he was stern, but this time he’s pleading for her to leave, and that’s just not Jacob—they’d hash it out before he cut her off without so much as a word, instead of ghosting her and making his father lie for him and keeping secrets with Sam Uley.

“Jake,” she pleads too, but instead of tightening her grip on his wrist she brings her hand up to the nape of his neck, to brush through the short hair that lays there, drenched in rainwater. “Please don’t do this to me.”

He closes his eyes like it pains him, and it very well might; she knows the similarities to the night Edward left are becoming almost too much for her to bear.

Maybe that’s why she came here, after all, because she could, because at least she still knew where she could find him. Because even if he didn’t want to talk to her, at least she’d know he was okay.

“I’m not doing this to you, I’m doing it for you. I’m not who you thought I was, I’m not good for you. You can’t be around me anymore.”

Fuck that, she thinks immediately, because she is so absolutely tired of people telling her what she can and can’t do, what she’s strong enough for, what’s safe.

She doesn’t want safe. All she wants is Jacob.

“I decide what’s good for me; I decide,” she says, voice raised and rough, jabbing a finger in his direction, and he grabs both of her forearms and holds them between them. He looks like he wants to shake her, he’s so frustrated, but his grip isn’t tight. “You think you’re going to hurt me, or something? Because look at us, Jake.” Her gaze moves to his hands on her, holding her still but doing it gently, carefully. “It’s okay. You won’t hurt me, I know it.”

He drops her arms like she’s burned him, like he didn’t even realize he was holding them, and takes two steps back, away from her.

“You’re right, I won’t—because you can’t ever come here again.”

He turns and runs to Sam and the other guys, leaving her standing in the rain, soaked and alone, her stomach in knots. The chatter is back, the self-doubt, louder than ever now; if they could both do this, both leave her so easily, would she ever be enough for anyone?

She’s not sitting around her house moping about this, not again. She did that with Edward and it got her absolutely nowhere, so this time she resolves to just skip to the front of the line. She packs a bag for the trail and goes hiking, plans to take a long path deep into the woods, away from the bear attacks or whatever’s going on out there. Her dad would have her head if she walked headfirst into danger, and she knows better, anyway, isn’t going to actually risk her life just to get Rocky Mountain high.

She hadn’t planned on risking her life, anyway, but how was she to know the formerly peaceful Laurent was back in Forks, red eyes and all, and that he was working with Victoria? That wasn’t on her supernatural drama bingo card, that’s for damn sure.

She listens to him do the villain rambling for a moment, but irritation wins out over fear and she loses her temper, slips up and says that Edward is gone and he’s not coming back, and if he wants to kill her, well no one’s stopping him!

He looks amused by her outburst, but the smile melts off of his face when an enormous black wolf steps out of the trees, followed by several others of all shades, shapes, sizes. She doesn’t get a chance to count them, just runs like hell in the other direction, but when she risks a look back they are going after Laurent with a precision she wouldn’t expect from wild animals just looking for dinner.

She tells no one about the wolves—who would believe her anyway?—just runs back to her truck until she’s breathless, goes home and takes a steaming hot shower to rinse away the cold clamminess of his touch. She makes a cup of tea and changes into a t-shirt, a pair of shorts, then parks herself on the couch with her laptop for the rest of the night.

Until the knock at the door that comes around 1 AM.

It’s Jacob, and she’s so happy to see him that she forgets all about her day up until that point and wraps her arms around him, hugs him where he stands in the doorway. He hugs back, thank god, his embrace tight and warm and comforting, and then she ushers him in, offers to make more tea while they talk.

“About the other day,” she begins, filling the electric kettle with water and plugging it in, but he cuts her off, panicked.

“I wish I could explain,” he says, and he’s almost got those puppy dog eyes that always get him his way; he doesn’t even do it on purpose, just looks like that, and it’s incredibly hard to resist. “But I literally can’t.”

“No, I know, I… I mean, I think I know.” She has a box of tea in her hand and she’s gesturing a bit wildly with it, so she sets it on the counter, walks closer to him, so there’s about a foot of space between them. “First rule of fight club is you can’t talk about fight club—wait, it’s not an actual fight club, right? Because you’d dominate.”

He laughs, a real one, with his head thrown back, and she all but grins. There he is. Her Jacob.

“No, it’s not a fight club, but you’re right. I can’t talk about it, I can’t tell you anything.” His tone of voice hurts her, because it’s clear this is something he wants, needs to share; she moves closer, eyes on his.

“And what if I guess? Is that against the rules?” He shakes his head fervently, rests his palm on the counter beside him.

“No, no—in fact, that’s exactly what I need you to do. Sam can’t stop you, and I know you, you’re smart, won’t stop until you figure it out.” He reaches out with his other hand, tentatively, and links their fingers together like he did at the movies; when he brings their hands up to his chest, this time, she doesn’t pull away. “It would be so much easier if you knew.”

His face is so soft but so serious, his brow furrowed, and she squeezes his hand.

“I’m going to feel really silly if I’m wrong, but I don’t think I am. I’ve been working on it all night.” With her free hand, she pulls her phone out of her pocket, shows him the same screen she has up on her laptop in the other room. It’s a list of all the facts she has, her own speculation, and finally, in size 42 font, one very important eight-letter word. “You said before that Sam was collecting disciples—a pack of them, Jacob, right?”

“Yes. Fuck,” he breathes, and though she’s heard him say it in the garage many times, this one is special because it means she’s right. He slides down to a seat on the tile floor, looks so relieved it makes her chest feel tight, and she kneels in front of him, hands on his bare shoulders.

“You’re a werewolf, Jake, just like the legend—your tribe is descended from wolves. Tell me I’m wrong.”

He doesn’t say a word, and at first she’s afraid she is incorrect, but then he reaches out and pulls her close, crushes her to his body. He breathes hard into her hair, holds her tightly, and she can’t help it, she cries, hot tears leaving tracks down her cheeks.

He brings his hands there after a moment, wipes the tears away with his thumbs, then holds her face like she’s something precious, lips turning up into a half-smile.

“Thank you. I knew you could do it.” He tips forward, presses their foreheads together, moves his hands to her waist. “You don’t know how badly I wanted you to know.”

“Oh, Jake. I’m sorry—I should have caught on faster. It’s obvious, when you put everything together, when you… You know. When you’ve seen what I’ve seen.” He nods his head and swallows, presses his fingertips into her side. She shifts closer, or he does, maybe they both do, so their breath mixes between them, soft and warm.

“It’s okay, you’re here now. You’re here, it's okay,” he repeats, and she pushes fingers through his hair, softer now that it’s dry.

“I’m here, and I don’t have to stay away.”

They don’t quite kiss, because she’s still nervous, maybe even more so now—they were so close to being separated, and now that he’s back in her life, in her house, she doesn’t want to risk breaking this delicate, fragile thing between them. His mouth just brushes over hers, more a swipe than a press of lips, and she turns her head so the rest of it catches her cheek instead.

He sighs, but he’s not upset, and he lifts a hand to smooth through her hair before dropping it altogether.

“I should go,” he says, but she can’t bear the thought of losing him again already. She stands when he does, takes his hand the way he did before.

“Can you stay the night? Please?” She squeezes his fingers, tries her hand at her own version of those sad puppy eyes. “I understand if you can’t, but I’d feel… I want you to,” she’s clear to say, and eventually, he nods.

She makes up a bed for him on the sofa, intends to head upstairs when he’s comfortable; she doesn’t know what stops her, but she stretches out on the other end of the couch instead and they put on a movie, something black and white, volume low. She couldn’t say for sure who’s the first to fall asleep.

She’s the first to wake up, so she takes a quick shower, does some work, brews some coffee. He’ll probably head out the moment his feet hit the floor, so she prepares herself for that—she just hopes that the rest of his pack knows he’s there, that they aren’t worried, or frantically searching the preserve for signs of him like she would be.

She asks him that when he pads into the kitchen an hour later, eyes sleepy, bedhead evident, and he pours a cup of coffee and sits across from her at the table.

“Nah, they knew I was coming,” he assures with a sip. “They know by now that if they can’t find me, I’m probably here with you.” That makes her smile, though she looks down into her mug and tries not to show it. He takes a few more quick gulps despite the temperature and sets down his empty cup with a smack of his lips. “Speaking of the pack, I think you should meet them. We gather at Emily’s—that’s Sam’s fiancee—sometimes, and they’ll be there today.”

“Will they be angry that I figured it out?” she asks, genuinely curious. She wants to meet them, wants to know more about the group of guys Jacob is now supernaturally entangled with, but she’s not so sure a house of angry werewolves is somewhere she’s ready to be so soon after her last brush with death. He breathes a laugh and shakes his head.

“They won’t be angry. They’ll probably be irritated with me, because I couldn’t just let you go…” Their eyes meet, and she thinks of reaching out to touch his hand across the table, though she doesn’t in the end. “But as for you, they’ll probably just be impressed.”

The pack is both impressed by her and slightly irritated with Jacob, but stern glances and eye rolls quickly turn to laughter and playful shoving, as they pile into Emily’s small but cozy kitchen and make introductions around a batch of fresh muffins.

She gets official confirmation on things she’d only read about—like their ability to hear each other’s thoughts when shifted, the accelerated healing, their speed, their power—right from the wolves' mouths, and they learn from her too, everything she knows about vampires like Laurent and Victoria. She doesn’t talk much about the Cullens, mostly because their secrets are not hers to tell, but she can see Jacob’s brain working as she mentions Victoria’s vendetta, as she shows the group the pale, silvery bite mark on her arm.

“If she’s here, she’s here for me,” she tells them, and Jake tenses, his jaw tight, veins visible, shoots Sam a look that conveys they have a lot to talk about when she’s not around.

Later, she suggests to Jacob that he take a walk with her, because she can tell how all of those stories have put him on edge. Together they amble slowly toward the beach, close but not touching, and this time she does take his hand, leans in so their forearms brush.

“It’ll be okay,” she murmurs, tilting her head to look up at him. “You guys are strong, fast. You took down Laurent—I have no doubts you’ll get her too.”

“Before she hurts you?” he says, staring ahead, voice rough because he’s been mostly silent all day, listening closely to her and taking everything in. “Because if she does…”

“She won’t. The others are watching her,” she says, hoping like hell that’s still true, “and even if she finds me… I trust you to protect me.” He stops there, on the wet sand, and she turns toward him so she can see his expression, to get a better idea of what’s on his mind.

“If they come back, I’m not allowed to fight on their land—I’d be breaking the treaty,” he says with a pained look. She understands the words he’s not saying: if they come back, I wouldn’t be able to protect you in your own home.

“They’re not coming back,” she whispers, because she can’t say the words any louder than that, even though they’re true. “He made his choice, and that’s—that’s okay.”

“Is it?” Jacob asks, leaning in, and she gets it, gets why; she hasn’t exactly been positive about Edward’s departure, how his choice affected her, took his family away from her too, and now suddenly she’s okay with it?

It isn’t sudden, though, not really. It’s been a gradual acceptance, something she’s been coming to terms with since the day he left. She knows Edward’s decision wasn’t made easily; she knows he didn’t leave because he didn’t love her, but because he loved her so much he put aside his feelings for her and did what he thought was right.

He went about it all the wrong way, removing every trace of himself from her life, banning his family from communicating with her, taking her choices away, but in the end his heart was in the right place, and she’s found a way to respect that, despite everything.

Maybe it’s just Jacob. He brought her out of her post-breakup shell, made her smile again, laugh again, feel important and wanted and cared for. Maybe he filled in the cracks of her broken heart so she could use it again, without the need for exhilaration and adrenaline to cover up the pain of what she’s lost; maybe it’s just Jacob, bright like the sun they so seldom see, special and rare and wild.

“It’s okay,” she assures him, voice steady with her conviction. She raises their conjoined hands and presses her lips to his knuckles, just briefly, before dropping them back to her side.

Jake nods, accepts her answer, and they walk further along the beach until the sun goes down in a hazy blend of blue and orange and red.

He offers to drive her home, and even though it’s impractical, and she’d usually put up a fight, she wants that extra time with him. Wants to be that close to him. She sits in the middle of the bench seat, neither up against him nor really on the passenger’s side, but close enough for Jake to throw an arm across her shoulders, and they listen to the radio and talk about his pack while cruising down the road.

“I better go,” he murmurs before she can even unlock her front door, and she tries not to let her face fall; she’d been hoping he’d stay over again, or come inside for a little bit, at least.

She must fail at controlling her expression, because Jacob smiles softly, like he’s pleased with himself, and leans in, brushing his fingers over the line of her jaw.

“We’re patrolling tonight—got a vampire to kill. But I’ll call you tomorrow?”

She nods beneath his touch, and he pulls back and turns to leave, jogging down the street and toward the forest that’ll lead him back to La Push.

He does call the next day, but it’s brief; Victoria’s back, just as Sam expected, so they’re running all night, all day, trying to catch her off guard, taking breaks only to eat and sleep when they absolutely have to. Jacob promises to check in when he can, but after three days with no contact—and a voicemail from her father about locals spotting wolves in the woods—she’s on edge again, less concerned for her own safety, more worried about Jake’s.

She’s an absolute idiot for doing it—going to the beach, to the tall cliffs that loom over it—but she needs the rush again, doesn’t feel right when it’s just her own troubled voice in her head. She needs to hear the purr of an engine, the hum of a plane, the crashing of pure, white water against rocks… or maybe Jacob’s heartbeat. But the cliffs are the simple option at the moment, and all she can think about until she’s actually there, looking out over the ocean, the gritty scents of sand and salt in her nose.

She takes several deep, long breaths. That’s the key to these things that bring her so much excitement—using all of her senses, so she’s not just herself but everything around her too. She needs to see the sun on the horizon, taste the spray of seawater and clean, crisp air. She needs to smell the damp earth, touch the frothy bubbles that lap at the shore, hear…

She hears a wolf, actually, howling solemnly in the distance, but doesn’t register the sound until after she’s already jumped.

The waves are choppier than they’d appeared when she was looking down at them, and it knocks the breath out of her lungs when they crash into her body, pulling her down into the dark vastness of the icy sea. Her arms and legs move instinctively, fighting to bring her back to the surface, but the water is deep and heavy and she’s already so tired of trying.

She’s so cold all she can feel is cold, her teeth chattering, so even when she hits her head on a boulder and it starts to bleed, she doesn’t realize what’s happened until everything turns black.

She’s warmer, suddenly, that’s all she knows, though the ground beneath her back is rocky and wet, uncomfortable. She thinks maybe it’s a blanket that feels so warm, but quickly realizes it’s Jacob above her, soaked to his bones, a sigh of relief passing his lips.

“Oh thank god. Can you hear me?” He cradles the back of her head in his palm and helps her sit up, then presses his fingers tenderly to the sore bump beneath her hair. “Your head’s not that bad, but I bet it hurts.”

“Hmm. Hurts,” she mumbles, her throat raw, temples throbbing. She’s cold and tired and thirsty, but ashamed above all else; maybe she really does need someone making the decisions for her, if this is the kind of stupidity she gets up to when she’s alone. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he answers quickly, and he runs his hands over her arms and legs, her neck, her face, checking for further injury. “I’m just glad you’re alright. The waves are bad today; you could have been swept away.”

“I didn’t realize that until it was too late,” she admits sheepishly, and when he brings her closer she rests her cheek against his chest, feels tears stinging her already tired eyes. “I’m sorry, Jacob.”

“It’s okay, I’m here. It’s okay.” His voice is as soft as his hands as they curve around her, holding her against him, and they sit like that for a couple minutes, until Sam runs over and tells him to get her home.

He drives again, but this time she’s even more grateful, because there’s no way she could have done it herself. She feels so much at once—dumb and scared and childish, but also brave and calm, while somehow her mind races with thoughts of the wolves howling and Jacob’s hands in her hair. Her focus is shot, and even though she’s wrapped in one of Jake’s thick, fleece lined hoodies, she trembles, heavy and cold, as she peers out the passenger side window, watching the trees go by.

“Hundred and eight degrees over here,” Jacob says eventually, with a half smile, and she blinks for a moment before giving in; with a sigh, she scoots closer, wraps an arm around his waist. She can feel the heat of his body even through the layers they wear, and she shivers involuntarily at the pleasant but abrupt change in temperature.

“You still want me this close? Not afraid the bad decisions will rub off onto you?” It’s a joke, a self-deprecating one, and an apology all bundled together. “What I did was stupid, I know. I could have gotten really hurt, and you should have been out there with the pack, with Harry, not saving me.”

He tilts his head, leans closer so his cheek rests against her hair.

“Well it wasn’t smart, but we all have our moments. And you couldn’t have known about Harry—don’t be too hard on yourself.” A long beat of silence passes, and she turns toward him, pressing her icy nose to his neck with another sigh.

“Mmm. You’re so warm. It must be nice, never getting cold.”

“It’s a wolf thing,” he says with a shrug, but it’s not, not really, and she can’t let that stand.

“Maybe, but trust me, it’s a Jacob thing too. You’ve always been warm.” She just sits there, breathes him in, lets him warm her hands and nose, so content she almost doesn’t notice when he pulls up in front of her house.

“This is better. Now that you know about me,” he says, tipping his face down, after he turns off the truck. She pulls back just enough to look into his eyes, to try to gauge his intent.

“But?” He swallows hard, looks away for a moment before returning to her face.

“You saw what happened to Emily. Sam got angry, lost it for a split second, and Em was standing too close. He’ll never be able to take that back.” He shakes his head, as if imagining the two of them in the same situation. What he could do to her. What she would think of him. “What if I get mad and I hurt you?”

“You’re new to this—even if you are a natural,” she says, remembering a comment Embry had made when they’d last spoken. “You’ll learn how to control it, how to read the warning signs, and you’ll either stop yourself from turning or get somewhere safe. We’ll be okay,” she promises, resting her hand soothingly against his neck, and he sighs softly.

“Sometimes, I feel like I’m gonna disappear. Like one day it will be all wolf and no Jake.” He leans in, close enough that their noses just barely brush, and the way he looks down at her is something like…

Yearning, she thinks to herself after a beat. It’s a powerful emotion, but she’s never seen it look quite so beautiful before.

“You’re not going to lose yourself. I won’t let that happen.”

“How?” he asks, bringing a hand up to cover hers, and she wets her lips, shakes her head to clear it; it’s swimming again, in this small space, so very close to him—especially when he’s looking at her like that.

“I’ll tell you all the time… how special you are to me.” She looks up, feels like she’s showing her soul to him, like this incident has stripped her down to bare bones and she’s letting him see her, once and for all. He stares into her eyes for a long moment, then leans in slowly, tentatively, and this time she doesn’t stop herself from meeting him in the middle, from pressing her mouth to his.

She can actually feel the relief wash over him when she doesn’t reject his kiss, like he’s been tightly coiled and tense and can finally relax because she wants the same things, feels the same way.

She expects his lips to be warm, soft, but he is scorching against her skin, even more so when he moves his hand to her cheek in a gentle caress. With the palm against his hip, she pushes up his t-shirt, gets her fingers on his body, and they both gasp softly into the kiss, deepen it.

“Jacob,” she sighs when they part for air; he seems okay, if a little shaky, but she feels flushed, eager, almost vibrating with the need to keep kissing him. She wants more, even though her throat burns like the last time his lips touched hers, when he forced the water out of her lungs and saved her life.

That’s what he does best, her Jacob—like a flicker in the dark, he always pulls her away from the dangers of her own making and brings her back into the light.

“Is this real?” he asks, his breath a ghost on her lips; his other hand, on her lower back, pulls her closer to his body, and she turns her head and kisses the palm resting on her cheek.

They kiss again, hands a bit less careful, hers sliding up his back, his weaving into her hair to control the tilt of her head. She gives in to it all, lets him set the pace, gripping him like a life preserver and letting his heat warm her from the inside out. She feels like she can’t get possibly close enough, wants to be pressed skin to skin, but she settles for sliding into his lap, ducking her head so she doesn’t hit it on the metal roof of the truck.

He groans as she twists fingers into his hair, as she pulls him into her and feels the long, hard line of his body against hers. She kisses faster, harder, and he matches her fervor, wraps an arm around her waist and catches her chin with tight fingers.

They kiss for a long time, and the cabin heats, windows fogging up as they share breath and saliva, as they murmur each other’s names like prayer. Her lips are red and raw when she finally needs to pause, and she rests her head against his chest and listens to the thunderous, wild beating of his heart.

“Will you stay the night? Please?” she asks, voice a little broken—rough with need, and soreness from nearly drowning, and breathlessness caused by the most intense kiss of her entire life.

Jacob nods, and he sets her carefully back on the seat, removes the keys from the ignition and climbs out of the truck. She slides out behind him, and he closes the door, takes her hand in his just like she did on the beach.

He locks the front door behind them when they’re finally inside—as if that will stop anyone we need to worry about, she teases with a soft laugh—and she takes the lead, walks up the stairs toward her bedroom with Jacob trailing behind.

Despite his surreal body heat and the thick, warm sweatshirt he’d given her to wear, she’s still cold down to her bones, and wet like a drowned rat, so she pulls off her shoes and socks and sets them down by the radiator. Jacob watches her every move from a couple steps away, eyes lingering as she shrugs out of his hoodie, then pulls her damp sweater over her head.

There’s nothing sexy or seductive about it, it’s not a striptease by any means, but he doesn’t look away when she’s down to her bra, and she doesn’t want him to. He bends down to take off his boots, to line them up next to hers, then bridges the distance between them and leans in for a deep, slow kiss.

It’s not long before they both sink down onto the bed, and her fingers slip open the button of her jeans, then hesitate, wait at the button of his. She looks up at him, and the confirmation is all but written there, in the darkness of his eyes, the swipe of his tongue over his lips, but she needs to be sure.

“I want you, all of you,” she murmurs, and then she brushes a hand through his hair, leans in to just rest her mouth against his. It’s delicate like the first time, but full of meaning, and he presses up into her kiss. “Do you want this?”

“I want this. You. All—all of you.” He nods, licks his lips again, eyes softer but no less hungry, and she flicks open the button and kisses him like she did in the truck: hands on his body, in his hair, her breath all his.

They don’t part, not really, just fall back against the pillows and tug at clothing, pressing kisses to throats and palms. His t-shirt drops to the bedroom floor, then her jeans and underwear, his, and the room is quiet except for the sounds of eager, wet kisses and soft, needy moans.

She sits up, reaches back to unclasp her bra, and Jacob drags the strap down her shoulder, helps her take it off, leaving it somewhere in the bed; his mouth moves to hers, then down her neck, over her collarbone, and finally caresses each nipple with a gentle reverence that makes her ache all over.

“You’re still sure?” he asks when she is shaking beneath his touch, strong arms wrapped around her back, and she nods and shifts up into his lap.

When their lips meet, the kiss is hard, and she curls an arm around his shoulders, weaving a hand into his hair. They’re both panting when she leans up, guides him inside her, and when she sinks down it’s like a flash of tingling heat takes over her entire body.

Jacob groans, holding her securely, thrusting up as she works her thighs above him. They kiss, deep and messy, graceless but passionate, her fingers tugging, his pressing hard into her skin.

It’s not at all how she’d expected her first time to be; she’d imagined it would be with Edward, of course, and slow, but she can’t get enough of Jacob and it seems like he can’t get enough of her either. She’d imagined a cool, pale body above her, but it’s Jacob’s deep, rich, hot skin she presses her lips to, her fingernails against. She’d expected Edward’s hard, marble arms around her, and while Jacob is strong and firm he’s still soft, skin slick with sweat as they move together.

“Jake,” she murmurs, the taste of him on her lips, his scent in her nose, woodsy, clean. “Jacob.” Her body trembles and he holds her tighter, presses his face into her neck.

“I’ve got you.” She sighs happily at that, grabs his hair more roughly, rides him faster.

“You’ve got me. You’ve always got me.”

Jacob looks up at her, eyes fiery, liquid, then pulls her in with a hand on the back of her neck and kisses her like the first time—soft, nervous, sweet. The juxtaposition of that gentle kiss and his possessive grip makes her dizzy, and when he pulls back his face is all she can see, all she wants to see, all she needs.

“I’ve always got you,” he promises, his gaze tender, unflinching. “Always.”

He’s got her when he comes, holding her tightly with one thick forearm and dragging his free hand over her breasts, then lower, to rub her clit as she bounces herself to climax in his grasp. “Oh, god,” she breathes, voice like a shiver, and her fingernails dig half-moons into his biceps as they both slow, slow, slow, then stop altogether.

He eases them both down against the bed, arms around her, their legs entwined, and they catch their breath, just look at each other until the exhaustion of the day catches up to her. Her eyes flutter closed, and pressed so close to him, so warm, all she can do is sleep.

When she wakes, it’s still mostly dark, and she desperately needs to clean up in the bathroom and get a glass of water. Jacob’s t-shirt is the first piece of clothing she sees—or the first she wants to see—and she pulls it over her head and pads to the bathroom for a human moment—a very human moment indeed.

She pauses, while washing her hands, to look over her reflection in the mirror. Rationally, she knows nothing has really changed, but at the same time everything has.

The bathroom water is never cold enough to drink, so she treads down the stairs, across the kitchen, turns on the tap and lets it run until the water is icy and crisp. She fills a glass, takes a couple of sips, then almost drops it when a cool hand is suddenly pressed to her shoulder.

It’s Alice, and she uses her other hand to catch the glass before it can hit the floor and shatter.

“Relax. It’s just me.” Her eyes are soft, and it’s clear she is happy to see her, but there’s something else in her expression, something inquisitive. “You’re alright.”

“I’m fine. I’m… good, actually.” She shrugs, which bares her shoulder, in the large t-shirt she wears, that she’d forgotten she was wearing. She freezes—she knows how she must smell to Alice, like Jacob and like… Jacob—but her friend just shakes her head.

“I couldn’t see you; well, I saw you jump off a cliff, and then you were gone. I thought you died.”

“Alive and well,” she says with a tone that’s hoping for lighthearted, but…

She has no regrets about being with Jacob, not one—she just hadn’t expected to be confronted with a vampire she once considered a sister almost immediately after. She doesn’t know what to say right now, how to act. Who to be.

“I was cliff jumping, recreationally. It was fun... for a minute.” Alice rolls her eyes, but it’s clear she’s happy she’s unharmed—though perhaps irritated by her tendency toward life-threatening idiocy.

“That doesn’t explain why I couldn’t see you, why your whole future went black.” Her golden eyes stare seriously, unblinking for a moment, and then she looks away. “Though maybe I owe that to the wolf in your bed.”

Of all the nights for Alice to come back to Forks, she thinks, a suddenly uncomfortable pit in her stomach. Then she hears footsteps on the stairs.

“Not in her bed anymore,” Jacob says, voice low, from the doorway to the kitchen; he takes half a step forward, an aborted move, like he wants to put himself in between them.

“This is Alice, Edward’s sister. Alice, this is Jacob,” she explains, trying not to focus on his shirtless torso, or the pained expression on his face. She blows out a deep breath. “It’s okay. She won’t hurt me.”

“She’s hurt you before,” he counters, no doubt remembering every heartbroken, aching expression she’d worn in the months prior. He takes a step closer, so he is next to her, his forearm grazing hers, and Alice takes a step back. “I’d like to stick around, if it’s all the same to you.”

He’s posturing, that much is clear, but she can't find it in herself to be irritated, because at least he’s giving her the option, letting her choose.

“I thought you couldn’t protect me here,” she says, turning her face up to look at him, and Jacob’s response makes heat pool low in her belly, just like the night before.

“There is nowhere in this world I won’t protect you—treaty or no treaty.”

She wants so badly to kiss him, but Alice is there, Alice, right in front of her after all this time, and she’s conflicted. Torn. He can tell, she knows, but he doesn’t take it personally, just reaches up to scratch his head, sighs.

“So are more of you coming? Is–is he…?”

“I came alone. And no,” Alice replies after a moment, but she’s looking at her instead, probably knows that he’s just saying what she’s too worried to ask. “He only calls in once every few months. Says he wants to be alone.” Jacob scoffs.

“Great. He wants to be alone, so you all leave her behind, unprotected? That red headed vampire is after her because of him.”

That gets a reaction out of Alice, whose eyes darken protectively.

“Who, Victoria? I haven’t seen her.” She stares off into the distance, like she’s searching for memories, visions, sifting through what she’s seen and trying to piece together what she hasn’t. “Just like I didn’t see you get pulled out of the water. There’s a lot I haven’t seen, apparently,” she adds under her breath, and the other girl presses her lips together, sighs.

Not the time or place for this discussion, and they both know it, but that doesn’t mean it’s avoidable for long.

“So you can’t see around Jacob. The wolves,” she guesses. “I’ve been with them a lot lately.”

“With him a lot lately,” Alice corrects. Jacob huffs, but it’s not untrue, so she lets her think what she wants. Her silence must speak volumes, because Alice takes a deep, wholly unnecessary breath, and gestures toward the door. “Should I go?”

“Please don’t,” she says quickly, nearly begging. It’s the first she’s seen of Alice in almost a year and she cannot let her leave as abruptly as she’d shown up. “If you could just give us a minute…”

“Take two,” the vampire says, and it’s with a half-smile that turns into a smirk. “I’ll go Febreze the living room while I wait: it smells like wet dog.” She turns to leave, a bounce in her step that the other girl can’t help laughing at, shaking her head.

She sobers up when Jacob turns toward her, takes a step that moves the both of them, so her back is pressed up against the kitchen counter. He looks so serious, and her heart beats for him everywhere.

“Do you believe her? When she says she came alone?” he asks, and she tilts her head, nods softly.

“Of course I believe her. She just had to make sure I was okay, that’s all. There’s… there’s nothing for them here.”

Even as she says the words, she hopes they’re not true—hopes that, even if they really aren’t meant to be together, that she and Edward, she and the Cullens, can still be… Friends isn’t really a strong enough word, but she wants them in her life, potential bloody accidents be damned.

“So if he came back,” Jacob says, leaning in closer, his lips hovering over hers, “you wouldn’t go to him?” His tone is light, but she understands the weight of his question, takes a moment to find the right words to answer it.

“If he came back, I’d want to see him. Just like I want to see Alice.” She reaches out to touch him, his warm, bare skin, places her palm over his thumping heart. “But I wouldn’t go to him. Not like this.”

It’s true, and she wants to say more, to promise him, reassure him, but just after she says it, the landline rings. Jacob sighs, his breath on her cheek, and reaches out a hand to answer it. “Hello?” The person on the other end speaks in a low tone she can’t make out, but she can see the tick in Jacob’s jaw, a hard set to his eyes. “He isn’t here right now, but that’s not who you really want, is it?”

There’s another moment of conversation she can’t hear, and Alice walks into the room looking stunned; Jacob hands the other girl the receiver, and she looks from him to Alice and then speaks into the phone. “Hello?”

“You’re alright.”

It’s Edward, his voice cool and smooth but thick with emotion. It makes butterflies flutter around in her stomach, just like it used to.

“I’m alright.” She doesn’t give him more than he asks for, doesn’t take more than he offers. She’s aware of two sets of eyes on her, feels more nervous than before, in her oversized t-shirt and sleep-mussed hair.

She’s glad he can’t see her and wonders exactly what that means.

“Good. Rosalie said Alice had a vision…” He trails off, but they both know what he’s not saying: everyone thought she’d given up and killed herself. She crosses her arms.

“The vision was incomplete. I’m fine. Stupid, but fine.” Edward huffs a laugh down the line, and she can imagine the exact cant of his mouth, the glimmer in his eye that always seemed to be reserved for her.

“You are many things, but stupid is not one of them.” There’s more he wants to say, she can tell; as a man of few words, many of their conversations were punctuated with heavy, meaningful silence. Part of her wishes she could see his face, at least. That always helped. “Who answered the phone? Jacob?”

She looks up at him involuntarily, notes the tightness of his mouth, his arms folded in front of his bare chest.

“Yes, Jacob. He’s the one who pulled me out of the water, the one Alice didn’t see.”

“Hmm. He still doesn’t seem to like me much.” Her lips turn up at that—understatement of the century—and she wonders if Jake can hear him too. Based on the stoic expression he wears, he either can’t, or he’s not paying attention.

“No he does not.” A beat passes, then two. “You should call your family more often, go see them. They miss you.”

“It’s difficult,” he says, swallowing, and she nods at no one.

“I know, but don’t punish them. Please.” She knows how it feels, to be totally cut off from people she loves, to constantly wonder, always fear the worst; she doesn’t say it because she knows he knows.

“I’ll consider it, if you don’t go jumping off those cliffs any time soon.” She laughs softly, surprised at his humor; this was not how she would have ever anticipated a call like this to go, but she likes it. Likes them, like this.

“Deal. Alice is looking at me like she’s going to steal the phone any moment,” she warns, which is putting it mildly. “So I’m going to put her on. You can call when it’s not life or death, you know,” she adds quietly. “It would be nice to hear from you. If you ever want to talk.”

She doesn’t know if he responds, because Alice takes the receiver, winds the cord around her arm, and scolds her brother with love in the way only a sister can manage.

While they talk, she walks toward Jacob, then past him, toward the staircase, but she takes hold of his hand as she goes, and he follows just like the night before. This time, he closes the bedroom door behind them.

“I’m sorry this happened like this,” she says, sitting down on the bed, one leg beneath her and the other hanging over the edge. “I’m not sorry Alice is here, but I’m sorry that’s what you woke up to. If you were… worried.” Jacob takes the space next to her atop the rumpled duvet.

“I was worried when I smelled a bloodsu- vampire,” he corrects quickly, “and you weren’t beside me.”

“I’m sorry,” she says again, this time leaning closer. “But thank you for giving me the phone, letting me talk to him. I’m sure that wasn’t easy.” He shrugs, like it was no big deal, even though she remembers how angry he’d looked at the sound of Edward’s voice.

“I almost didn’t. I mean, technically, he didn’t ask for you.” She rolls her eyes—definitely guy logic—then stands up, scoops his jeans off the floor and hands them over to him. Her face heats at the memory of removing them in the first place, but she snaps out of that for her own sake and grabs fresh clothes, steps into the bathroom to make herself presentable.

When she’s done, she heads back to her bedroom, where Jacob is now clad in jeans and boots, sitting shirtless on her bed. She deposits the borrowed t-shirt onto his lap, and when he thinks she’s not looking he brings it to his nose, inhales long and slow, before pulling it over his head.

That action does things to her, and she wishes for a moment that she had his senses, so she could smell the two of them the same way he does, their scents deeply saturated and blended together.

They head downstairs when they’re both dressed, and while he rummages in the refrigerator for something to make them for breakfast, she treads into the living room and sits down next to Alice on the couch.

“So,” Alice says, and then she gestures to a cup of tea. The other girl picks up the mug and thanks her, brings it to her lips. “How long has that been going on?”

She feels her cheeks heat, and she hides behind another sip of tea.

“Really? I haven’t seen you in almost a year and that’s what you want to talk about?”

“Oh, forgive me for being curious about what it’s like to date a werewolf when last I saw you were grieving the loss of my brother.” Alice’s tone is more playful than it would seem, and her eyes smile even if her lips don’t.

She always knew that Edward wasn’t telling the truth when he said he didn’t want her. He just couldn’t bear it, knowing that being with him put her in so much danger, caused her so much pain. She knew it was worth it, but if he didn’t… there’s nothing she could have done to change his mind, she knows that now. She can’t feel guilty for moving on when it’s exactly what he’d wanted her to do in the first place.

“Okay, you’re right. Let’s talk about how I’m going to comb the woods, find Victoria, and rip her into confetti for threatening to hurt you.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Jacob says, walking into the room with… a cup of tea. He looks over at the mug in her hand, then sets the one he brought her down on the table without a word. “The pack’s got it covered.”

“All due respect, but if the pack had it covered, she wouldn’t be a threat anymore, would she?” Alice tosses over her shoulder. The other girl sets her tea down and sighs.

“Alright, can we not do this? The age-old vampires versus werewolves thing? Especially if I’m in the middle of it. Maybe you guys could work together for a change; Alice can’t protect this part of the territory all by herself.” She picks up her drink—a drink, the one Jacob made, this time—and takes a long sip, looks up at them over the rim of the mug.

“The pack could help, if you give us the authority to amend the treaty,” Jacob says to Alice, though he’s kind of looking at the ceiling, his arms crossed. “But wherever she is, I’ll be.”

“You can’t be with her every second,” Alice counters, and her exasperation makes it sound like an argument she’s had before. “It’s not good for either of you and could put her in danger; if Victoria picks up on it, she’ll be able to use your scent to track her anywhere. Trust me, yours is a lot stronger than hers is, and it’s all over her.”

She thinks Jacob makes some kind of noise, like a low growl in the very back of his throat, but it’s hard to hear. Alice raises her eyebrows like she’s trying not to roll her eyes.

The three of them discuss potential ways to coordinate with the pack, and Alice mentions calling in Emmett and Jasper to see if they could help with the search; the sooner Victoria is gone, the better, is the general consensus, and Jacob thinks he can get Sam on board with that as well, even if it means more Cullens coming back to town.

She finishes both cups of tea, then a plate of eggs and toast Jacob put together from the bare-bones contents of her kitchen—she reminds herself to make a shopping list, then absently wonders if she’ll have a grand escort to Trader Joe’s.

“I’ll make some calls while you’re gone,” Alice says as she is taking her last bite; she looks up from her plate, confused, and Alice waves a hand. “I saw a glimpse of you at the grocery store, but then it went dark; I assume that means he’s going with you.”

“I thought about it for a split second, as a joke,” she clarifies with a huff of laughter. “I don’t think I need a bodyguard in the produce aisle at eight AM.”

“Better safe than sorry,” Alice and Jacob say, at the same time, and her lips twitch in amusement.

Looks like they’re not so different, in the end.

She gives in and allows Jacob to drive her to the supermarket, though not without a long look from Alice as he walks her to the truck with his hand on the small of her back.

They breeze through the store thanks to the list in her head—she buys a little more than she usually would, because it seems like Jacob plans to be around. She likes the thought of that even more than she’d expected, likes choosing things solely because she knows he’ll enjoy them.

“I think we should talk about last night,” Jacob says, voice low, when they’re nearly back to her house. She cringes internally, because that’s never a sentence a girl wants to hear after a night like that, and he clears his throat. “I know cliff jumping ended up being kind of traumatic for you, and it didn’t feel like it last night, but if I took advantage…”

He looks over at her, his expression pained, and she shifts closer and wraps her hand around his forearm.

“God, no, Jake—that’s not what happened.” He brings the truck to a stop in her driveway, puts it in park, and she presses her palm to his cheek so he’ll focus on her instead of fixing his gaze out the window. “I wanted everything, every moment. I still want it,” she murmurs, and he looks over her face like he’s still not quite sure he believes it.

“You do? Even after… after you spoke to him, and everything?” It’s a fair question, and again, one she answers very carefully.

“I think we needed to talk, he and I, but it didn’t change anything. You’re the one who changed everything,” she admits softly, tentatively, wetting her lips. She hopes her eyes convey the certainty her voice can’t seem to. “Do you want to kiss me?” she breathes, leaning closer, her fingers winding a path through his hair, and he nods his head and presses his mouth to hers.

She gets up on her knees so she can be closer to him, but she doesn’t climb into his lap like before—she does have some self-restraint, despite what it may seem. She curls one arm around the muscles of his back, pulls him in for more contact with the hand in his hair, and it’s a few minutes later when she remembers they’ve got bags of perishable groceries in the back and a vampire with excellent acoustic abilities just inside her home.

She pulls back, smiles a little at the soft, unfocused look on his face, then runs her hand down his chest before lifting it away entirely.

“I know we’re kind of at DEFCON 1 right now, but more of that a little later would be nice.”

“Hmm. Very nice,” he agrees with a nod, his voice slightly rough, and he turns off the ignition and carries all of her groceries into the kitchen with one strong arm.

Emmett and Jasper do come back, with Rosalie and Esme, to her delight and Jacob’s discomfort. Between the pack, who comes to get the vampires’ scents so there’s no friendly fire, and the family, who split time between her house and the one they left behind, the place is a revolving door of the supernatural for the next few days.

All of them take turns watching over her house at night, while the others patrol the woods. She catches up with everyone she’s been separated from—even Jasper gives her a crushing hug, so at least the time away was good for something—and it’s wonderful, but it means there’s not much time to be with Jacob aside from planning sessions and the occasional quick check in. The most time she spends with him is when they attend Harry’s funeral, something somber and intimate, with ethereal music and a glowing campfire and endless stories about the Clearwater line.

She is introduced to Leah and Seth, Harry’s children, and while Seth seems welcoming and friendly his sister is cold, standoffish—though not without reason, she soon learns from the pack.

“She’s not always like that… mostly just when she’s around Sam,” Embry says where they stand on the edge of the forest, away from the thick smoke that burns her very human eyes. She looks over at the pack leader at the mention of his name. “Now that she’s part of the pack, we have to live the Leah/Sam/Emily painfest all over again.”

She turns back to him, to Quil, who’s standing beside him, and tilts her head, curious.

“I don’t think I follow—Sam left Leah for Emily?”

“Well, yeah, but it’s not what you think. He hates himself for hurting her, but he couldn’t help it. Emily was ‘the one.’” Quil says it almost sarcastically, with air quotes for emphasis, and she frowns.

“The one?” She doesn’t mean to sound skeptical, but these days she’s not as big a fan of providence and destiny as she used to be.

“Sam imprinted on Emily. It’s kind of like… soulmates, but bigger. Cosmic. They were literally meant to be together.”

“Like fate,” she says, filling in that blank, and then a large, warm hand is splayed across her back, fingertips pressing into the fabric of her dress.

“We make our own fate around here,” Jacob says tightly, and she looks up, regards him curiously. He’s not just upset about Harry, or Victoria… there’s got to be something else making his jaw tense, his eyes hard. “And I think that’s more than enough of the pack soap opera for tonight. Are you ready to go home?”

He turns his gaze to her, and it softens, for which she is grateful; he is her guardian on duty tonight, and despite the solemn evening—or maybe because of it—she wants to spend the night as close to him as she possibly can.

She nods, and after they say their goodbyes he walks her to the truck, opens the door for her, closing it carefully when she’s safely inside. He takes the spot behind the driver’s seat—his usual, now—but doesn’t drive straight to her house like she expects.

“Ice cream?” she asks when he turns off the engine outside of a mom and pop shop selling sundaes, cones, and shakes. She exits the car at his indication, and the two of them walk hand in hand up to the illuminated window that says Order Here. An older couple is ahead of them, pointing at the chalk menu board, and Jacob leans in to speak in a hushed tone.

“This place was Harry’s favorite. You like chocolate, right?”

“Has anyone ever answered ‘no’ to that question?” she asks softly, playfully, and it works as intended, lightens the mood just enough to bring a brilliant smile to his painfully beautiful face. “I think this is a wonderful way to remember him, Jake.” She wraps a comforting arm around his, and Jacob nods, lips pressed together, eyes sad.

“Just kind of feels right.”

He orders for them when it’s their turn, two waffle cones with two scoops of chocolate ice cream each, and they sit at a picnic table on the side of the building, eating their tributes with heavy hearts and looking up at the stars.

The ride home is quiet, contemplative, at least for her; by the time they arrive she has been running through thoughts of mortality, finality, how short life is and how very precious.

These are all normal thoughts for a person to have, and certainly after a celebration of life like the one on the reservation tonight, but she thinks seriously for the first time about Jacob and his desperate need to protect her, the way he puts himself in danger—stupidly, recklessly, completely—every day to keep her safe.

When they’ve made it inside, she exhales deeply, looks up into earnest, curious eyes, and wraps her arms around him, presses close so she can bury her nose in his clothing.

She breathes him in long and slow, his usual scent of crisp air and rain and oak dulled by the smoke of the bonfire, and then his hands are in her hair, tipping her face up for a decadent, passionate kiss.

God, how is he so good at this? she thinks as he sips at her lips, glides his own down the tender line of her throat. She sighs and grabs for his arms, something to ground her as her desire threatens to take over, to leave her a whimpering, begging mess beneath his hands.

Jacob turns them so she’s got her back to the kitchen table, sets her on top of it, and she parts her knees for him, pulls him closer. Her fingers itch with the need to touch his skin, so she tugs at the hem of his shirt and gets her hands beneath it, skims them over the taut muscles of his bare back.

“I can take it off,” he murmurs against her neck, and she nods breathlessly and helps him pull it over his head. His hands bracket her hips, palms flat on the table, and her arms curve up around his back, bringing him closer; she kisses him eagerly anywhere she can reach—his throat, shoulders, face, everywhere.

She whispers his name into his own skin, presses her lips to his biceps, scrapes her teeth over the lobe of his ear, and he shudders at her touch, tilts his head to look up at her, his eyes dark and almost… dangerous.

What does it say about her, that she finds that look so goddamn attractive?

“I’m sorry, I—I need a minute,” he says, panting through gritted teeth, and she lets her hands fall away, leaning back a little to give him space to breathe.

“Take all the time you need,” she assures him calmly, patiently. It’s the first time she’s ever seen his wolf so close to the surface, and she’s completely unafraid, would hold him and help him ride out the tension in his body if she thought he would let her. “It’s just us, Jake, just me and you.”

“Just us,” he repeats, his fists clenching and unclenching, taking a long breath with his eyes closed. She breathes with him, has always found that helpful when she herself is overwhelmed, and after a few moments he presses closer and she runs a soothing hand over his chest. “I’m okay,” he says eventually, leaning in slowly for a kiss as though he’s afraid it will be rejected. She brings her hands to his face, deepens it, so it’s still soft and easy but with enough meaning behind it to convey her thoughts.

“I know,” she murmurs, just to be certain he believes her. “You did so good; so good, Jake.” He nods, pulls back a little so he can look into her eyes.

“It’s not that I can’t control it, I can, but…” He looks away for a moment, swipes his tongue over his lips. “The instincts are so strong and I don’t always want to fight them. Sometimes when I’m with you, I want to let the wolf win.” He says it like he’s ashamed, and she puts her arm around his shoulders and brings him down for another kiss, this one just a gentle press of mouths.

“I understand that more than you think I do.” His breath on her lips makes her crave more of his heat, but she knows it has to be slow now, or he’ll get too in his head and never let himself enjoy their night together. “I may not be supernaturally inclined, but sometimes making decisions with my body is all I want to do. Especially with you,” she adds, just a sigh between them, then touches their foreheads together.

They stay like that for a moment, embracing in their own way, until he initiates a kiss that is so thorough it makes her toes curl. She brings her hands to his waist, guides him closer, and he rests a broad palm at the base of her throat and kisses her, again, and again, and again.

Her arms curl around his body the second they separate for air, and he lifts her from the table, carries her up the stairs with an ease that makes her long for more frequent displays of his strength.

Getting his clothes off is quick enough, since he’s already shirtless, and his hands are tender and gentle as he sweeps her hair away from her neck, pulls down the zipper of her dress, slides it off her bare shoulders.

Neither of them bother to pull back the covers, simply lay back on the bed, her knees apart again, Jacob hovering between them and letting his eyes move over her like he’s committing her body to memory. It makes a wave of heat rush through her, and since tonight is less hurried she does the same, lingers over every curve of muscle, every sharp line of bone. He leans in, lays an arm behind her head, glides his lips over her jaw, her cheek, her mouth.

“I was right, before,” she says after another satisfying kiss, letting her fingers press into the flesh of his hips. He looks into her eyes, tilts his head curiously, and she smiles a little, can’t help herself. “You really are beautiful.”

Jake breathes a laugh, even blushes a little, then kisses her until they’re both panting; her fingertips press harder when he pushes inside, then glide up his back to keep him close while the two of them move together.

Jacob feels so different this way, is so much deeper, filling her in a way that makes it so she really can’t tell where she ends and he begins. He is heavy on top of her, but not uncomfortably so, and when her body shifts up the bed with every thrust it’s thrilling, incredible—she’s never felt so much in her life.

His face is serious, eyes focused, and she weaves her fingers into his hair and catches his lips in a kiss, moans into the end of it when he finds a spot inside of her that takes her breath away.

“Oh, god, Jake.” He leans in for another kiss, deep and wet, nods against her lips.

“You’re perfect—so perfect,” he huffs, breathless; he moves his hand to her hip, runs it over her stomach, then presses his palms to the bed and repeats his previous motion, over and over, her body coiling tight with pleasure. “Can’t believe I get this.”

“We get this,” she corrects in a whisper, won’t let him think for one second that she’s not as completely in awe of him as he seems to be of her. She skims her nails over his lower back, his ass, tightens her thighs on either side of him and tips her head back just as he makes her come. “Don’t stop, Jake, please,” she whines, shaking, holding him so tightly with her entire body—she never wants it to end, never wants to be separated from him again, and he agrees, if the way his body presses down on hers is any indication.

“Can’t stop… need you,” he groans, pushing her leg up further, so he feels almost impossibly thick and deep. Her arms wrap around his back, pulling him closer, holding him there as he ruts into her, scorching flesh pressed against flesh.

“Yes, oh—”

Before she knows it she’s quaking again, gasping when he brings his teeth to her throat, scrapes them over her throbbing pulse. He growls in her ear, a deep, low, animalistic rumble she can feel in her stomach, then comes inside, claiming her with a broken, raspy, “mine.”

He lays half on top of her, half on the bed, after, their skin soft and damp with cooling sweat. She can’t stop looking at his face, his dark eyes, sharp jaw, and he cups her cheek with a gentle palm and gazes just as intently at her.

“Come here,” she murmurs, a soft smile on her lips, and he kisses her slowly, makes her sigh with a pleasure so complete—mentally, physically, spiritually—it feels like she’ll never be the same.

He gets up after a moment, comes back with a glass of water and a towel, and helps her clean up well enough to hold her over until she’s ready to get out of bed. She pulls the covers back while he’s gone, slides in between the cool sheets, and he follows her lead, pressing close to her beneath them.

“Are you upset you didn’t imprint on me?” she asks carefully, propping herself up on her elbow and using the other hand to run fingers through his hair. “I noticed that when the guys were talking about it, you got kind of tense.” He shrugs slightly before shaking his head.

“No, not upset… I was just so sure you were meant for me; I really thought it would happen sooner or later.” She understands that, can picture him wishing and waiting for something that would never come to pass. So patient, her Jacob.

“Do you wish it had? Do you think it would make this more real?” Her hand moves from his hair to his collarbone, down his chest, over his stomach, so very low. “Because when I’m touching you like this… nothing has ever felt so real.”

He presses her against the bed, hovers over her, kisses her breathless, and it goes without saying that he agrees with every word she says. She softens beneath him, tired and pleased, and he shifts into a more comfortable position, laying behind her, that she knows means sleep for the both of them. He drapes an arm over her, and she draws circles into his skin with her fingertips, feels his warm breath on her neck, closes her eyes and revels in the weight of him at her back.

“Anyway,” she whispers, one last thought on her mind before she succumbs to sleep, “I almost think it’s better like this, that we have to fight for each other. No help from fate—just your will and mine.”

A/N: I got my start in fandom spaces by writing Twilight fanfic fifteen years ago, but I never posted it because it was... bad. Last week was a crummy week for me, so I found comfort in watching New Moon, and I literally couldn't help myself from re-writing it in Jacob's favor. There's no Edward hate here, and he'll play a bigger role in the next part I have planned, but Jake took hold of me in this one and didn't let go.

#twilight #twilight saga #twilight saga: new moon #twilight fanfic #jacob black #jacob black fanfic #jacob black x reader #jacob black x female reader #jacob black x original female character

685 notes · View notes

mswyrr · 4 months

Text

The more I write Lucy Gray having "screen time" in my fic, the clearer it becomes to me that the movie simplified her and "prettied" her up a fair bit away from the book in ways that make me sad. In the book, she can be a bit of a freak (affectionate) and frank about killing (when necessary to survive) and the messiness of living.

There's her and Coriolanus having a far more frank conversation about their kills--and her desire to kill Coral--in the book than in the movie, for example. And, as dkaluuyaegot has pointed out on Twitter, in the book Lucy Gray writes her love song, "Pure as the Driven Snow," for Coriolanus after he kills Mayfair:

She cares about trying to be a good person (trying to stay on the right side of the line between good and evil), but she's not legalistic, self-righteous, or rigid about that. She knows what it means to live in a broken world with a lot of bad options in front of you. She sees it as a struggle and one where you will be pulled all over as you try to walk a decent path --she doesn't think we get out of the mess of living clean, none of us-- and what is decency to her? I think she centers it in her Covey and their values:

"The Covey believe you’re put on earth to reduce the misery, not add to it" (437)

Her morals aren't absolute rules so much as guidelines and orientations toward living. She's not naive (she knows damn well they live in a dystopia) and she's not drawn to outside authority structures, apart from her Covey, or direct political action, so she's pretty independent and matter-of-fact minded about things.

The movie makes it seem more "good girl falls for bad boy" and that's really not it - they're both pretty gray, and well matched in that, before he crosses over into the darkness. The main, important difference is that she is pretty gray as a conscious choice with clear lines--her personal and Covey ethical guidelines--and he was gray because he was torn and in the process of deciding.

re: the lie. If he'd told the truth, it's interpretable what she would have done in the end, but I think it's pretty clear that Lucy Gray would have, at minimum, heard him out and certainly not turned him in. Turning anyone in to the Peacekeepers seriously goes against her values.

Coriolanus is a brainwashed Lawful Neutral dumbass before he breaks bad and he thinks if there's order and rules a system must have some legitimacy to it, but Lucy Gray knows better. She knows these authorities exist to impose wrong, not right. There's no justice to be found there, and handing someone over to them is adding more wrong to the world.

#lucy gray baird #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosas #snowbaird #ballad quotes #thg meta #my meta

181 notes · View notes

scoobydoodean · 4 months

Text

A Fic About Dean's 45th Birthday

~3k words | slight angst with a happy ending

Dean never says anything about his birthday.

Sam has weird hang ups about holidays like Halloween and Christmas, and January 24th isn't just Dean's birthday—it was Jess's birthday too. So Dean's never made a fuss. He's asked for Christmas, but he's never asked to have his birthday celebrated. There are many years he can think of where he wouldn't have even wanted to celebrate his birthday anyway—where the idea of it would have felt hollow.

He's said before in front of Sam and Bobby, "I don't like being singled out at birthday parties, much less by God" and he figures maybe Sam has always remembered that, and probably told Cas too (if Cas ever asked).

Right. It all makes sense.

So he has no reason to expect Sam to realize that Dean actually wants to celebrate his birthday now—that he has wanted to for... the last three years, ever since Mrs. Butters insisted they throw a birthday party for Sam.

He can't stop thinking about Mrs. Butters saying they shouldn't celebrate Dean's birthday—or... rather, that she thought he wouldn't want to celebrate his birthday because he's old... and just... fuck that.

The truth is, the older Dean gets, the more his birthday feels... important. For one, he's officially spent more time not in Hell now than he spent in it. For another, 45 just feels... important somehow. It isn't 50—but it's another half a decade? He thought he'd be dead by now (well—he supposes he has been—but it hasn't stuck yet) and he doesn't know—it just feels like... like something to celebrate. He's 45 years old, and he isn't dead. He's alive, and he's happy, and things have been good lately.

He keeps thinking about it every year that passes better than the last. He keeps wondering every year. He keeps hoping every year—even though he knows it isn't rational when he hasn't said anything. He hasn't asked. He hasn't told anyone that anything's changed. He can't expect a birthday party if he doesn't communicate that he wants one. At the same time, asking for one feels weird. It feels... whiney. Nobody else is asking.

Dean's done birthday meals for Sam the past couple of years without Sam asking (stooped to making a caesar salad with grilled chicken for Sam's birthday last year with minimal grumbling) but it doesn't seem to make much of an impression. Sam is just... not much of a birthday guy. He's quiet, and to be honest, Dean's pretty sure he prefers celebrating with Eileen if he's going to do anything. She usually swings into town around Sam's birthday to take him out drinking. Well. He'll be celebrated whether he likes it or not—at least a little—at least with a meal.

Dean doesn't know when to celebrate Cas. He's asked before and Cas said something about being created before humans or their methods of marking the passage of time existed and... yeah, okay. Dean's favorite local diner sells good pie, and has a nice selection of milkshakes, including a PB&J flavored one. For the last few years, once a year, on September 18th, Dean tries to either take Cas out for one of those milkshakes, or pick one up for him. The date just feels right.

Dean puts the most effort in for Jack, with a full on cake ever since Mrs. Butters. Sometimes, he adds a bag full of Three Musketeers candy bars. Cas and Sam certainly don't raise a fuss. They all silently agree that the kid should get the birthday experience even if the rest of them are too old and jaded to care.

42, 43, 44... every time January 24th rolls around, it's always just like any other day. He thinks maybe when he turned 43, Sam might have wandered into The Dean Cave at night when Dean was watching a movie with Cas and sat for a while, then belatedly said, "Oh. Uh, happy birthday, man," while staring down at his cell phone. That was it.

Dean had brushed him off with a grunt—probably only reinforced for Sam and Cas both that Dean doesn't care just like they don't seem to care. So it isn't rational. It isn't fair. It isn't reasonable for Dean to get upset. But maybe it starts to sting a little, okay? And yeah that makes Dean feel a little embarrassed—sue him. He hasn't said anything... and he shouldn't. It's stupid. It doesn't matter. Mrs. Butters said he's too old for birthdays.

Still, despite his best efforts, Dean goes to bed on January 23rd 2024 wondering if someone will remember—if maybe, this time, they'll do something... because... he's 45. Something simple is all he imagines. They go out to eat, or... someone else makes breakfast (or tries). Sam give him a stupid gag gift. Cas picks up a pie.

As Dean falls asleep, he stupidly imagines the library decorated with a tiny "Happy Birthday" banner. He imagines a stack of pancakes for breakfast with a stupid candle in them. He imagines party hats and Rice Krispie treats. He imagines someone just... wishing him a happy birthday. Just... acknowledge it—that he's 45. That it's important.

Dean wanders into the library in the morning and it's empty and dark. He goes into the kitchen, and Sam is illuminated by his laptop screen. Dean flicks on the light and Sam barely flinches. "Hey," He says, keeping his gaze on his work... and that's it. That's how January 24th 2024 is going to be.

Dean shakes himself out of it—doesn't reply—just wanders over to the coffee pot to pour in grounds and get a drip brew going. Who knows if Sam has even slept—he's been deeply fixated on a cataloguing project for two weeks straight now. It's entirely possible he pulled an all-nighter. He might not even know what day it is anyway.

Dean opens the fridge and drags out the bacon. He considers toast too, but then decides that... well—he can celebrate his own birthday at least by making it special himself. He goes to the pantry and pulls out a boxed pancake mix he picked up who knows how long ago.

Just add milk and eggs.

Dean eyes the half-burnt-out pack of birthday candles in the junk drawer, stored there last May 18th. He closes the drawer, rolling his eyes at himself, and flips his pancakes as they start to bubble.

When breakfast is finished cooking (enough for Sam and Cas and Jack too, of course) Dean makes himself a plate and plops down across from Sam at the kitchen table.

"Big stack of pancakes," Sam murmurs—and Dean could swear there's a vaguely judgmental lilt to it.

Dean's eyes burn, which is stupid. He cuts through all five pancakes and shoves a huge bite in his mouth, staring at Sam across the table stonily as he chews.

Sam glances up and makes a bitch face, but doesn't say anything, returning his focus to his laptop

"What are you doing that's so damn interesting anyway?" Dean grumbles.

"Still cataloguing. Actually, Eileen is coming over to help me. We're gonna drag that last shelf of books into the library from the archive room and scan it all—finally have everything digitized."

Dean's heart sinks. It's gotta be at least 1,000 books.

Sam gets up from his chair. "I was gonna wheel everything in from down there and stack it on the tables before she gets here. You wanna help me?"

"Uhh..."

"Right," Sam scoffs lightly, making his way over to the coffee pot. "No problem."

"Look—I'm glad you enjoy that shit," Dean poorly pronounces through a mouthful of chewed food, stabbing another bite before he's finished this one. "Because someone has to—but moving and cataloguing books is the last thing I wanna do on my birthday."

It slips out without Dean really meaning for it to. He feels like the pancakes he's eaten are crowding his throat. He grabs his glass of water and swallows quickly, watching Sam over the rim of his glass.

"Oh," is all Sam says though—glancing at Dean, then his watch, before pouring his coffee into a mug. "Uh... happy birthday."

Dean looks down at his plate. "Thanks."

Sam clears his throat unusually loudly. "You know—I'm gonna be busy, but maybe... you ought to make a day of it," He suggests suddenly, leaning against the counter with his mug in a way that does not look comfortable or natural.

Dean immediately smells deceit, the hairs on the back of his neck rising. "What do you mean?"

Sam opens his mouth then closes it—shrugs. "You know—go out on the town... see if Cas or Jack wants to do something together. I mean—I can't go—can't back out on Eileen, but..." He interrupts himself with a sip of coffee.

Dean narrows his eyes. "Are you... trying to get me out of the bunker right now?"

"What? No!" Sam has always been terrible at lying to Dean—always seems too indignant. "I just—maybe you should celebrate. You're like, 46 or something, right?"

"45!" Dean's voice goes up a whole octave, suspicion momentarily forgotten.

"Whatever," Sam waves him off. "Go get a nice drink somewhere or go see a movie."

Dean glowers.

Sam stares back at him, before opening his mouth and looking up at the ceiling. "Okay, fine. Me and Eileen uh... need the library."

Dean cocks his head to the side a little, processing, before the realization hits. A big grin spreads over his face. "Sammy, you sly dog..." Dean chuckles. "I know what this is."

"Uh...?"

"Yeah you and Eileen are gonna catalogue some books, huh? Heheh..."

Sam scowls and rolls his eyes. "Gross, Dean."

Dean raises his hands in surrender. "Message received. I will uh... clear outta here..." Dean gets up, collecting his empty plate. "And... make myself scarce until say....?" He looks at Sam expectantly.

Sam looks at the floor, the wall, the ceiling—anywhere but Dean, before saying, "...6:30?"

"I'll make it 7:00!" Dean declares, setting his dishes in the sink then striding out.

Jack turns out eager to go do something in town, which bolsters Dean's spirits. When they go looking for Cas though, and find him brushing his teeth in the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist, he says gruffly, "I have judo practice."

Cas has run through a stream of contact sports over the last three years, and so far, he's stuck with judo the longest. He's very good at it, and he takes it very seriously. It's kind of funny but also kinda... well—adorable at the same time.

"Why the fuck did you take a shower right before judo practice?"

Cas spits into the sink. "There is a man attending now whose gi is off white. Off white, Dean. Not because that is the color of the fabric, but because he never seems to bathe or wash his clothing."

Dean stares at him.

Cas shakes his head, seething at his own reflection in the mirror. "I know what he's doing... It's a strategy. He and I are enemies... and I will defeat him without stooping to his level."

"You are bathing before practice as a 'fuck you' to a smelly guy?" Dean clarifies. Suddenly Dean feels offended. "Wait a minute—how come this is the first time I'm hearing about this?"

"He's new," Cas grumbles. "He just moved here, and he smells, and he tries to tell the instructors they're doing things wrong. He's annoying and I hate him. Defeating him at this practice is very important, Dean. I'm sorry. Perhaps I could join you later."

"But it's Dean's birthday," Jack pipes up.

Dean looks at Jack, surprised, but also... touched.

Jack gives Cas a pleading look. Cas looks... put upon. He's giving Jack an almost... warning look, which is weird, but... bad day for Cas, maybe.

"No no—it's fine," Dean waves Cas off, and puts on an excited smile on for Jack. "You know what, Jack? All this means is that the two of us can go fishing."

"I hate fishing..." Cas grumbles.

"Exactly," Dean says. "So you won't miss out. Join us after your practice or whatever if you want. Sam wants the bunker to himself 'cause Eileen's coming over."

Cas tilts his head at him in confusion. "What? What does that have to do with anything?"

Dean gives him a look.

Cas stares back, then realization comes over his face. "...Oh," He says, glancing between Dean and Jack. "Uh... yes... so. Perhaps I'll join you after... fishing."

Jack seems eager to do a lot of activities. It makes Dean feel kind of good that Jack seems to appreciate birthdays, because Dean is the one who made sure they kept celebrating Jack's.

They pack sandwiches and eat them by the river while they fish, and then Jack says he wants to see a movie so they go to the theater, and even though it doesn't matter because it's all the same cash at the end of the day, Jack insists on buying the popcorn when Dean reaches for his wallet.

They still haven't heard from Cas by the time they get out of the movie. His practice should have ended hours ago.

"....What if we go see the world's largest ball of twine?" Jack asks. So okay. They do. Then after that, they go play mini-golf. Dean keeps checking his phone, hoping maybe Cas will call or text for their whereabouts and join them, but a message never comes.

Dean feels not only a little stung, but also kind of worried. He ends up texting Cas.

Dean: Just checking in.

Cas replies about 20 minutes later.

Cas: I apologize, Dean. Sam has roped me into actual research.

However much he doesn't want it to, it puts a damper on things—makes it hard for Dean to keep smiling. Sam just... didn't want he and Jack underfoot? Is that it? He thought they'd... get in the way? It kind of offends Dean. He and Jack are both perfectly competent at researching and Sam knows that. Dean just doesn't like this kind of project. At worst, he would have stayed out of the way—holed up in The Dean Cave or in his room to watch movies. If Sam's goal was getting them out of the bunker so they wouldn't bother him, it doesn't feel fair. It seems... mean.

Dean's throat feels tight. He puts his phone on silent before they get to the burger joint in the evening—tells himself he's jumping to conclusions—he isn't being fair.

At least... at least Jack is having a good time—smiling ear to ear. It's good to see him happy—especially after that upsetting stint as God. The responsibility of it... the weight... thinking about it had twisted Dean's stomach in knots some nights so bad he could hardly breathe, even if he never spoke to anyone about it.

Dean pulls into the garage right about 7PM, determined not to let any disappointment or hurt toward Sam or Cas show—reminding himself again that it's his own fault that they didn't know this day was important to him.

He decided on the drive home he'll say something about celebrating birthdays from now on... around late April, right before Sam's birthday so no one catches on that he's hurt. That'll... it'll make it easier to get it out anyway, Dean thinks—that this is something he wants—if it's first in the context of Sam's birthday instead of his own. He'll say he'd like to start making celebrating everyone's birthday a habit—say it's important to him. He'll ask, and plan a party for Sam, then they'll do one for Jack, then Cas... then, when Dean turns 46... maybe they can celebrate Dean's birthday all together then. Everyone being celebrated... it just feels right. It's something Dean just... wants.

He's also cooled off on Sam—convinced himself that Sam probably just didn't want Dean to feel obligated to help on his birthday while Sam was determined to be a bore—thought he'd have more fun getting out of the house. He just wishes Sam had the sense not to rope Cas in too.

Jack pushes open the stairs that lead down into the map room, and Dean nearly jumps out of his skin as he hears a very loud chorus of voices exclaiming, "SURPRISE!"

Jack grins widely then, and says, "Come on, Dean!" He races to the bottom of the stairs, motioning for Dean behind him.

Dean can hardly believe it when the library comes into view.

His family is there. Not just Sam and Cas, but Eileen, and Rowena, Donna, Jody, Garth and Bess and their boys, Claire and Patience and Alex. Some of them are wearing party hats, others just smiling. Donna scoops him into a hug first, then Jody.

Dean is overwhelmed by the attention as he trades hugs with so many of their friends. His eyes are drawn to actual decorations. There are streamers hang from the ceiling, attached to brown balloons. There's a banner attached to a wall that says "It Is Your Birthday!"

"Alright—so I left Cas in charge of the decorating while I went to get the cake," Sam admits as he walks up and places a cup of punch in Dean's hand.

"I already told you—the balloons are the color of Scooby Doo!" Cas scowls.

"Oh yeah? And why are they so under-filled?" Sam says back, but he's laughing.

"They're perfect, Cas," Dean chokes, looking at all the effort Cas put in—overwhelmed.

A cake in the shape of Scooby Doo's face is laid out on one of the tables, surrounded by paper party plates and napkins with The Scooby Gang on them. There are... there are actual wrapped presents sitting on the the table further back. Like... a lot of presents.

"You... you did all of this for me?" Dean asks, looking at Cas and Sam.

"We lied so we could stay here and prepare," Cas admits. "Jack was supposed to keep you out of the house while we worked."

Dean glances at Jack then, who beams.

"I'll be honest though. I really thought you had me figured out this morning in the kitchen, Dean," Sam shakes his head, grinning.

Dean's eyes well up with tears. "You're still a bad liar," He croaks.

He doesn't even know if it's him or someone else who starts it, but suddenly they're all in a group hug.

"Happy 45th birthday, Dean."

"You deserve it."

#birthday party for dean 2024 #my fan works #fan works #dean with scoobies

205 notes · View notes

flightyalrighty · 24 days

Note

(sorry if you've gotten this before or if this is not the right kind of question for the blog)

Do you have any advice on HOW to make a comic series? From what I've seen your work is fantastic, well made and written! (Cool concepts, story, and character dynamics etc)

How did you start? How DO you start?? How do you comic lol

I'm glad you enjoy my work! I'll do my best to answer this question!

I could give the ol' "Just jump in! Get started!" But I don't think that's the answer you're looking for, here. Even if it's technically the correct one.

"How do you make a comic series" Is one of those questions where the answer is kinda difficult to summarize in a single ask, because there's a whole lot that goes into it, y'know? I'll give you a brief run-down of my process.

I figure an idea for a story. In the case of Infested, the whole story was written before I even got started on the script. This is an outlier in my usual process and I don't normally do this and definitely don't recommend it.

Figure the plot like how you would figure a regular story's plot; The beats you wanna hit, the way the characters develop, the beginning, the middle, the end. What's the point of the story? What, exactly, are you trying to convey here? Who's the target audience? All that stuff ought to be figured out before even picking up a [MEDIUM OF ARTIST'S CHOICE].

Script the story. If you've seen a movie script, these things look a bit like that. You wanna not skip this step because this is where you determine the visual language of each page. Comic script writing is a whole thing and a half but I do have some random tips regarding it. -> When writing the beginning of a new scene, write down the time of day, the weather, and any important details about your setting (this is most important if you're working in a team). -> Using storyboard/film language when trying to figure out a scene is very helpful. You're not gonna remember exactly how that scene looked in your head when you finally get around to penciling it. Trust me. Write it down. Or thumbnail it! Thumbnails are also very helpful! -> Remember that you have very limited space for dialogue. Write with that in mind.

Figure the paneling on a page. I work at 11x17 and do my panel layouts based on those dimensions. I tend to make more important panels, or panels with PUNCH or SHOCK bigger than the others. Each panel is an individual illustration, but together they make a whole piece. You gotta treat it like that, y'know? Find the focal point on a page, find the most important element of it, and make that your focal point. Don't be afraid to get a lil wacky with panel shapes, either. They don't HAVE to be squares and rectangles. Check out what other cartoonists do! Get inspired! Paneling is an art-form within itself!

Page from "Hanna Is Not A Boy's Name" By Tess Stone

5. Penciling time! Get the perspective figured out, then draw the background, then draw the characters. Do it in that order. Trust me. With a background already set up, characters can be drawn more like they exist within that space, instead of floating in front of it. Also? Be aware that comic artists need to be ready to draw ANYTHING. You may have a great idea that you GOTTA put out into the world, but you have no idea how to draw, say, a car. Or debris. Or jungle foliage. There's no shame in using references, tutorials, or even doing a bit of tracing if something's outside your wheelhouse. Here's a bazillion tutorials from two guys who REALLY know their stuff.

6. Speech Balloons! Yes, really. In fact, you may want to do this and penciling at the same time. I certainly do. It's better to figure this out immediately so it doesn't hurt you later when it comes to getting your balloons to share a space with your art. Here's some great advice on the whole subject from a master of the craft

7. Inks! Line weight variation is key. Closer to the "camera" means thicker lines. If a part of a character is in shadow, that part is gonna get thicker lines, too. Personally, I make my background line art thinner than character line art. It helps the characters pop out!

8. Flats! Or flat colors if you wanna get specific about terminology. It's exactly what it sounds like -- Coloring the characters and backgrounds with the bare bones basic colors. I highly recommend keeping the character flats and bg flats on separate layers if you're working digitally.

9. Rendering! There's no hard and fast rule as to how a cartoonist ought to render their comic -- If they want to do that at all, even. Go with what you believe looks good AND is something you can do quickly. The "quickly" part is important. Heed my warning. Don't be like me.

And then I'd schedule the comic to be uploaded on whatever day suits me -- Thursday (usually) in Infested's case.

Of course, I kinda suck at relaying my process, so the final thing I can do for you is direct you to an extremely helpful book that really breaks it down in a way that may click with you as it did with me.

I hope this was in any way helpful to you!

#Anonymous #asks #comic advice

82 notes · View notes

ficsinhistory · 11 months

Text

Ok, I can't believe that in the middle of 2023 I have to say this, but I will:

None, I repeat, NONE of ATSV's female characters deserve the slander they're getting.

It's pure and simple misogony.

Gwen is one of the protagonists and the film shows us her point of view in relation to the film. She made a mistake and made a lot of mistakes, and yes, she needs to apologize. But it was established that it was not out of malice but desperation, in addition to residual trauma. She has regrets, wanna fix her actions plus it's clear that the guilt eats her alive the entire movie. She's not happy, she's devastated.

She is not a liar, snake or heartless villain. She's a lost and confused teenager who just wants to do what's best for the ones she loves in a difficult situation.

Margo Kess is an icon and a valued member of the team. She is a brave black girl who deserves to be highlighted and who has had and will have a more relevant role. She is the character herself and is far beyond the person who "is better than Gwen for Miles". She sure as hell doesn't hate Gwen, especially when they both have complicated civil comings and bonding about it, no doubt. She joined Miles' rescue team and certainly has as much regard for Gwen as she does for Miles. In the middle of 2023, I think it's time to stop pitting female characters against each other. Margo exists beyond ships and female rivalry, and is part of the spiderband.

Jessica Drew is an incredible character who is far beyond a cold and hard mentor. She is the one who extended the olive branch to Gwen, she is clearly a sweet and fair woman, who loves her family and tries to balance kindness with the seriousness that her work demands, she is Miguel's right hand man. She has a greater loyalty to him than Gwen for obvious reasons and that doesn't make her a heartless monster. She also believes in canonical events, she thinks about her own safety and that of her husband and son. And she has affection for everyone who cares as we see her at the end of the film.

We don't have to hate one of them to like another. Every character has flaws and the movie doesn't hide it, and that's okay. Because people, women, are failures. And all are being judged unfairly for simply being well-written characters.

And we know why this happens.

#across the spiderverse #spiderverse #gwen stacy #margo kess #jessica drew #atsv #across the spider verse spoilers #fandom

239 notes · View notes

itsnothingofinterest · 3 months

Text

So it’s looking like we might be getting the ‘AFO gave Tenko his quirk’ theory confirmed and I gotta be honest; I am not in favor. I’m hardly the first to take this position, both before and after this chapter dropped, but if I may attempt to put into words why; it’s that I don't think it can really add anything except reveal postmortem some new way AFO is bad in the best case & handing Deku a potential deus ex machina in the worst case.

Like, the best case result of such a revelation at this point in the plot is that it's just to make AFO seem more evil by making him the root cause of the Shimura tragedy, except…only in a way that doesn’t even matter. Like, this reveal shouldn’t change any of Tomura’s motivations or talking points; he already knows AFO manipulated him & hates him for that, but he also hates Kotaro, Nana, All Might, and the greater hero society for the role they played in his tragedy, and AFO giving him Decay wouldn’t change how much everyone else I listed deserves that ire. It just means that some of the tragic happenstance of the Shimuras that seemingly could've happened to anyone was instead purposefully cause by that jerk we know.

It’s like if we learned AFO killed Endeavor’s father, leading him down the path to become the domestic abuser we know him as. Thus the tragedy of the Todorokis would also come back to AFO...but y’know…not in anyway that matters. Endeavor, Touya, and everyone else involved still made their choices; AFO’s just the root cause of it all by sheer technicality. How diabolical, I might care if he were still relevant.

The worst case result of such a revaluation of course is that it gives Deku an unearned & largely uninteresting easy out to solving the problem that is Tomura's rage. Because if AFO gave him Decay, then he's actually the one ultimately responsible for near everything, if not just everything wrong in Tomura's life (even if, again, just by technicality in some areas). Never mind the rolls Kotaro, Nana, All Might, and greater hero society played in it; AFO's the real root cause of it all whose been manipulating Tomura for longer than he even knows, so he should just stop caring about that other stuff.

Plus it'd also mean Tomura doesn't exist to destroy because Decay isn't his true quirk (never mind how that's not why he thinks that & he never even put much stock into that quirk-identity stuff anyway) so he can just stop being a villain now please.

Yeah this all just doesn't seem like the most interesting way for Deku to tackle Tomura's trauma, talking points, or motivations.

Plus, like a live action Disney movie, the idea's kind of felt like it’s tying up a ‘plot hole’ that didn’t need tying up; that might even work better as a coincidental tragedy. Like; people act like this can’t be just a tragedy, it's too convenient, it has to be some master machination of the grand demon lord who…is already beaten, dead, and doesn’t factor into anyone’s plot lines or themes anymore. At best, to make him seem more evil long after the point we have any reason to care; at worst, to give Deku an easy out (with the side effect of making him seem like a worse hero who can’t save villains in Tomura's position without unique circumstances to make it easy).

Also like a live action Disney movie, this almost feels like it opens up a plot hole in trying to tie one up. Because as we know; Tenko’s circumstances are identical to Eri’s, down to the signs of their quirks being random mutations. When I said the tragic happenstance of the Shimuras we're blaming AFO for could've happened to anyone; I know this because it happened verbatim to her. So if those circumstances (just so happening to get a deadly quirk that kills their families, which just so happen to be connected to the villain who'll use & abuse them, etc.) are seen as suspicious, early signs that AFO gave Tenko Decay…did he or another villain give Eri Rewind? Almost certainly not; but if not then why does she get a random mutation-caused tragedy, while Tenko must have been the victim of some villain’s plot that's already been foiled?

So my point is: I really hope this is just a red herring. Revealing that AFO gave Tenko Decay kind of feels like it undercuts the Shimura tragedy as something that could've happened to any kid in Tenko or Eri's shoes; and I don't think any payoff you'd get for that undercutting is worth it.

We should instead get the much funnier revaluation that the man who brought Tenko home that day was, rather than AFO, a completely different man who Deku would coincidentally recognize: Hisashi Midoriya.

#bnha #bnha 415 #all for one #shigaraki tomura #dabi #touya todoroki #paranormal liberation front #PLF #kotaro shimura #nana shimura #all might #endeavor #eri #midoriya izuku #hero society

92 notes · View notes

partywithoutsmiling · 1 month

Note

Do you think you can tell us what happens in would tour specifically at the end when the strings are broken? Is branch there? Does the world go gray or does it stay colourful because their technically is more strings? Oooooo how do the leaders react/find out about this random gray troll who sum how has made more strings?!?!

I think Branch would be there for sure

Skipping ahead of the timeline, after the events of the 1st movie- and realizing Poppy did miss him, he would be rather reluctant to leave his Tribe again for a while (his reawakened crush on Poppy certainly not helping matters)

However, he has now been on the move for so long, that staying in one place indefinitelly gives him jitters (and bit of a spoiler, but he did manage to meet at least one of his brothers on his travels, that made him realize that perhaps this Wanderlust is hereditary to an extent)

Also ever since returning to Pop Village, he came to realization that King Peppy seem to know more about the wide world than Branch had suspected; before, he just thought that the Pop Troll's ignorance stemmed from their isolation and decades of selective culling- knowledge and histories are bound to be lost and forgotten in that case, but given the nervous glances Peppy sends his attire and his rock guitar, Branch can put one and one together.

But Peppy doesn't ask and Branch doesn't offer any explanation, and while Poppy is curious enough to ask Branch where he went, she doesn't push when he just says 'away'. She still remembers when Branch just up and disappeared one day and no-one cared to notice that for weeks- to an extent, not even her, even though she is the most aware of his prensence than anyone.

After that fiasco with the funeral, Poppy just figured Branch holed up himself in his bunker to sulk- or so she thought- and will come out when ready. And truthfully, she thought that it was, for once, a good idea- because the mood of the community was not great, when it came to the grey troll, and she herself was at loss what to say or do to make it better. She could hardly defend Branch's actions for all that she understood his freakout (at least a little bit)

It was only when more time than usual passed that she grew concerned- while the other trolls around her didn't.

A little bit of angsty idea was that Branch, in his shame, left behind both Floyd's vest and his old Hideout Plan, as those were two mementos that really tied him to his old life, and Poppy- with bit of brute force- managed to get her way into the bunker and found both.

She was really just a teenager then- and was suddenly forced to come to a reality where a Troll that was supposed to be her responsibility as a future Queen just... left. Left, because he felt so unwelcome in the Village- unwelcome in her presence- that feelings themselves driven him away.

And similar to Branch, Poppy had no idea other trolls existed- there was only the Village and the Bergen Town, and all the dangers that existed between it. It was unspoken rule that to leave the Village meant a certain death- and here she was, holding Branch's iconic vest that he never ever takes off, holding a yellowed scrapbooked plan of childlike wonder, that revealed a familial history of heartbreak and abandonment (after all, she knows these names, she knows Brozone songs and trivia by heart)....

Honestly, She and Branch probably came to be peas in a pod, when it comes to feeling of self-loathing and lack of self-worth.

After all, perfect Queens don't allow their subject to become outcasts

Perfect Queens don't turn blind eye towards unjustified shunning

Perfect Queens don't certainly drive away their friends to perish in the wilderness

And for the next 4 years- especially after the uncomfortable realization that only handful of people even care that Branch was gone- she felt deep guilt and suppresed grief very keenly, plagued by what ifs; what if she went to him the day after the funeral, what if she checked up on him that very night- would he had stayed? What if she never pushed him like she did, secretly delighting in crafting the most annoying glitter-spewing invitations, knowing it irritated him What if she was kinder, respected his refusals better, listened to his warnings

Would he had stayed?

And honestly, up until the point that he returned, she had no answers, and thought she would never got any

So after their reunion, she burns with questions and curiosity- and holds it back, because he already left once, and she is terrified to push him away again, this time for good. Because that's what she focuses on now- he came back.

Of course, that relief changes nothing when mere seventh months after their peace with the Bergens- after they repaired their village, after Poppy got used to having Branch by her side, singing, dancing, playing, harmonizing

She is suddenly feeling like thrown into a cold water when he tells her he wants to go traveling again, and all the fears and past grief comes rushing

I believe they would have quite the row about it- unknowingly reminding Branch of the night his brothers argued and left, which only pushes him to be angrier- while Poppy uses her outburst to hide the irrational terror she feels

So it ends with Branch storming off in a huff and Poppy storming off in a huff- but when her senses catches up to her and she is quite panicked to make ammends and to sooth the argument over, Branch is long gone

Few more months passes, and while not as cheerful, Poppy tries to keep herself upbeat- then the invitation comes, Peppy finally admits to there being more kind of trolls, and to her it is like Oh, of course.

The excitement returning, she now has secondary goal to her 'unite the tribes together' under big party- she just knows Branch is living with one of the tribes now- and she is right, when she encounters him in Lonesome Flats

(Well, after he learnes that she got thrown into jail for her Crimes against Music that is pf)

Branch, naturally, still has no idea about the Strings (as he dipped out before Peppy gave that piece of history away) but learning about them now doesn't give him any more peace of the mind. Contrary to his first mindset in the original plot- where he wanted to avoid the other trolls altogether- he is now stalwart defender of all genres, and hates the idea of any of them disappearing.

(A side note: in his wanderings, I think the only rulers- or would be rulers- that he had met was Delta, Trollex and Barb; Trollex had just been freshly crowned and Barb has not been queen yet) (He and Barb probably struck a very odd friendship- where Branch had no idea he was hanging out with the princess of Rock- namely because Rock Trolls didn't use the term of 'prince' and 'princess' for their heirs- and he probably told her all about his travels) (Hearing that she is behind this mess makes him feel horrified. Did he gave her the idea to try and take over the world?)

Anyway, events happens, the finale comes- the final showdown XD

Only, the fight plays out quite differently

Branch and Barb being friends, he confronts her about what she's doing and quite stubbornly gets into her face about her ideas. Dares her to change him the way she wants to change everyone- dares her to erase him, like she dreams about

It makes her hesitate for sure- she already went so far, and wont be stopped now. Expression hardening, she aims her guitar at Poppy and strikes the chord- not expecting Branch to jump between them.

This event probably doesnt have the desired effect that she imagined. Had Branch had been just a normal Pop Troll- or as close as to one genre as one can get, he would have been Zombified without any issues.

But with the Power Chord, it's Strings against Strings- and the results are probably quite... explosive. Devastatingly so.

Only, Branch has an unknowing advantage- his seventh String, shining so innocently from his hair among the others.

When it comes to matching powers, the Royal Rock Guitar looses, pathetically so- and as the stage around them explodes, so does the guitar, taking the power of music with it, leeching everything of colours and light, untill nothing but darkness and greyscale remains.

Except for a singular troll that stands tall and proud in the middle of it all, injured, sure, but colourful, rainbow heart shining through the fuzz on his chest, the strings in his hair glowing brighter than ever XD

#trolls #dreamworks trolls #trolls fandom #trolls branch #wanderer!branch au #ask

51 notes · View notes

onskepa · 2 months

Note

Hiii,I got a request.

So one of the dynamics I'm really interested in seeing in the next movie is the one between Neytiri and Spider.

So the plot would be something like they go to gather some herb that can only be found in a small crevice,so Mo’at asks Spider to retrieve it for her. Since everyone is occupied and the plant is far from the village, Mo’at asks Neytiri to take him there, and after a small argument of being against it, she does.

Only for some reason, they swap species (maybe some plant is at fault for that), like Neytiri turns human and Spider turns na’vi, but only them and no one else.

They go and hide in a shack that's close to them ( or somewhere) so no one sees them, so they spend the day together, and they have a heart to heart conversation.

They have a newfound understanding of each other after all of this, and while not on super amicable terms yet, they start getting there.

When they wake up the next day they have changed back (Neytiri consoling Spider a bit cause he had everything he wanted just for a bit, but he also is happy for her at the same time)

Helloooooooo cutie patootie~!! Honestly this is a really cool idea to explore thoroughly. Now I know everyone has their own personal opnnions of how their relationship can go, or alternatives. BUT! This will be my version of how I think if might go. Hopfully this is yours and everyones satisfaction~!!

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

New body, fresh eyes

[cover made by meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!]

Another calm day at the relatively peaceful day in the Omatikaya forest. People doing their duties to the village, or relaxing and enjoying the beautiful day. It was tranquil, calm, and everyone can tell it will be a good day. Mo’at certainly does. There was not much to do on this bright day. So she decided to go out and collect some herbs as she is running low on some.

So getting her baskets and needed tools, she makes her way through the village. Everyone she passes greets her with respect and joy. She likes seeing her people be in high spirits, it brings her mind at peace.

“You are doing it wrong!”

“Kiri taught me! So I know I am doing it right!”

“You are better off with those demons!”

“Too bad! I'm here to stay!”

Now if only mo’at can say the same for her inner family.

“Can you two stop arguing for 5 minutes?” Jake asks as he groans in frustration. Lately neytiri and spider have been at each other's throats. More than usual. Rubbing his eyes, it's too damn early to deal with it. Don't get Jake wrong, he loves neytiri very much. So much, but at times her dislike for spider can be a bit much, even for him.

And it is clear as day, everyone else is also getting tired too.

“I'm literally just existing!” Spider shouts his excuse, waving his arms around as if to prove his point.

Neytiri hisses and rolls her eyes.

Mo’at sees this and joins Jake's side. Both share the same feelings of this ongoing dispute. This has to stop before it escalates even more.

Mo’at doesn't hate the boy, she tolerates him and doesn't mind his presence. Would often welcome him to a light meal or show him some healing methods should he get hurt somewhere in the forest.

Looking down at her basket, mo’at got an idea.

So while neytiri and spider go for a round who knows how many of arguing, mo’at whispers in jake’s ear of her idea. And the more he listens, the more he is willing to comply.

“You cannot be serious! Both of you!” Neytiri shouts in anger.

“Baby, you know I love you with all my heart and soul, but believe me, this is a good idea,” Jake says with his arms crossed, his stance showing he isnt going to back down. Mo’at stands beside him, her glare not changing.

“She is going to end my life if we do this,” Spider says in a panicked/worried tone. He really doesn't want to do this, especially with neytiri.

“Hush, it won't be a terrible experience. All you both have to do is go to the upper saves to collect the white shell flowers. I need you spider to go since you are small enough to enter, and neytiri I need you to make sure he comes to and back safely” mo’at instructs.

But before either neytiri or spider begin to protest, Jake held his hand up as to silence them.

“It is decided, there is no way out of this. That is final”

Oh what could go wrong?

“Keep up!” Neytiri angrily demands, spider grunts as his feet are starting to sore. Ever since they left the village, Neytiri has been demanding him non-stop, telling him to hurry up, to not be slow or some animal will end him. Purposely walking faster and climbing on near impossible spots. Purposely making spider struggle more than he usually does.

“I'm trying!” he shouts back as he climbs over a very big root. He hasn't felt this tired since race climbing with the other na’vi boys. And that was a long while ago. And to make things not so appealing, they are not even halfway to the destination.

“Is this what uncle means by final destination…?” he thinks.

If that is true, may Eywa grant him mercy and join her in the afterlife.

“Are you done being dramatic?” Neytiri asks suddenly, interrupting his thoughts.

She stood not far from him, clearly not amused.

Quickly spider catches up to her, “nothing, how far are we?” he asks, “too far” neytiri asks annoyed. Inwardly sighing, he catches up, as fast he can't. This will be a long walk for sure.

“We are here”

What felt like forever they finally made it to the upper caves. It really wasn't that far from the hallelujah mountains but it takes a bit to get to a really specific area. And that specific area was no easy task. But what matters now is they made it.

“Hurry up, get in!” Neytiri once again hisses and impatiently shoves spider in the small cave. Spider was quick to duck his head down so as to not hit himself against the rocky entrance. The baskets landed near his feet, so he grabbed them without a word. Going a bit deeper, he sees the beautiful glowing green flowers.

According to what mo’at said, they needed to be very careful as the flowers can only function in the dark. Any beam of light hitting them and its over. So neytiri shoves some special baskets that are weaved very tightly and no light can get past it.

But also….

“How many did the tsahik say to get?” spider asks to neytiri. The na’vi in question paused for a moment. Did her mother specify how much to get? Little or a lot? Damn.

“Enough to fill the baskets” she said in a snappy tone.

“Yes ma’am…” so spider gets onto it. As he gently plucks the flowers, a bit of the nectar escaped from the bud and leaked onto his hands. Smearing his fingers a bit, it was sticky yet warm at the same time. Made his hands glow a bit.

“What is taking so long!? Hurry it up in there! We won't make it back before dark!” neytiri screeches. Her time with spider grows increasingly thin. She just wanted to get it done and over with. Being near him makes neytiri’s skin prickle and shudder.

“Puny demon…” she mutters under her breath. Looking down, the roots that connect the small cave to the base aren't that thick. Her blade is sharp enough to cut them. If she manages to grab the baskets, she can cut the roots and spider can be stuck in the air. Forever maybe….

“Ok I think this is enough” spider comments to himself. Collecting the baskets, he triple checks they are sealed very tightly and slings them over his back. “I need a bath after this…” looking down at his glowing hands, and some parts of his body, the nectar was all over him. Spider did try to not have any flower leak as he plucked them but it was inevitable.

“I'm coming!” he shouts, letting the echos reach neytiri’s ears as he makes his way to the exit of the cave. And just as he was about to come out, the sudden reach for the baskets surprised him. “Give them to me” neytiri demons, her eyes glaring daggers at him. Harshly she tried to yank them out of her grasp but spider was pulling back. Scared of whatever her motive is.

“Stop! You are going to rip the baskets!!” he warns her but it has fallen on deaf ears. The na’vi was pulling them so hard, he worried the weaving will become undone, so using the still wet nectar, he smeared it all over neytiri’s face. “WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?” she yells. Tring to get the nectar out of her eyes while holding onto spider, she was losing balance.

“No no no!!”

Without warning, both began to fall from the small cave. Flying down fast, yells of panic and fear. They fell down to the forest, only to be hitting the flat grounds and instantly being knocked out.

Neytiri awoke to a burning, unbearable pain coursing through her body. Mostly at her throat. She can't break, why can't she breathe? It hurts so much! Her vision was blurry but even trying to open her eyes, she felt a slight stinging to them. She needed air and fast! Looking at her surroundings, she saw spider’s mask laying on the floor, maybe that could help?

Crawling towards it, feeling the strength in her body weaken by the second. Quickly putting it on, she took deep breaths, calming her heart.

After a few minutes, her full consciousness became present. Why did Neytiri need the boy’s mask? How was it that it fit her face?

Looking down at her hands, her body, her hair, she screamed her soul out.

Spider woke up startled, looking around to find the source of the blood curdling scream. He turned to see a human woman. She was panicking while looking down at her body. He had never seen her before but he couldn't leave her to her madness.

“Hey hey, it's ok, it's ok, is your mask broken?” he suddenly asks while raising his hands but he noticed something…….

His hands were blue…his arms, legs, body, touching his ears, they were pointy. Was he….?

“Spider?!” the human woman called out to him, but hearing neytiri’s voice….?

“Neytiri….?” he calls out, she nodded.

Both now silent, taking in each other’s appearance…..

Neytiri is human. And spider is na’vi.

“Oh my Eywa….”

“OH MY EYWA!! OH MY-I THINK I'M GONNA THROW UP!!” spider says in his midst of panic. It is like he can't seem to fully comprehend what is happening. Here he is, standing at 10 '12 ft tall, with a tail, four fingers, and blue all over.

“Please don't '' neytiri who isn't far from him begs. She was rocking back and forth trying to understand what happened. Her skin is deep tan, dark tones, her hair now wavy and standing at a good 5’7 ft tall. No tail, 5 fingers, round ears, and no stripes. Even she is trying not to vomit.

Trying to be the adult between them, she gets up but notices something. She is naked, her na’vi clothing is too big for her.

“Look…we must find some proper garments……and find shelter soon. It is getting dark” she says.

Spider stops his mid life crises and listens to her. Looking down, he sees her point.

“Woa, this is incredible!” spider shouts in great glee! He can smell everything! He can see better, climb higher, run faster! He felt invincible at the moment. This is what he always dreamed of, always hoped to be. A true na’vi. No more silly mask, no more sleeping in the labs, no more risking his life to simple foods in the wilderness. He felt free.

Neytiri on the other hand felt stuck. The mask was itchy, it was uncomfortable. She doesn't have the same amount of strength. Everything was too big or too high, climbing was hard, running even harder. Gets tired easily, and can't even enjoy her favorite fruit anymore! Is this what it is like for humans? Always tired? Danger everywhere? Is this what felt like being trapped?

“Don't you think maybe this could be something from Eywa?” spider asks, rather a bit tired but wondering behind their current situation. “Is she punishing us…?” He wonders more. Neytiri, who was sitting across from him, the fire pit in the middle of their small shelter. She narrows her eyes, the light of the fire reflecting in her eyes.

“Don't be so ridiculous, why would she punish me? I have done nothing wrong” she replies in a rather stand-offish way. If spider still had his eyebrows, he would raise them.

Did nothing wrong?” he repeats but more as a question.

He starts to count with his fingers, “you insult me, you belittle me, you bully me! You HATE me! When all I have done is try to live my life”.

Neytiri glares at him, if she could hiss, she would.

“You dare come to my home, my village, my FAMILY! Dressing as if you were one of us!”

“I am now,” he smirks.

“Bah!” she scoffs, “whatever this is, don't think it will be forever!”

“But what if it is? What if this is our new life? Me na’vi, you human?” spider questions. If it is true, he could life as a omatikaya. He could spend more time with kiri, lo’ak, spend more time and be one with the village. He could-

“Then I wouldn't be with my family….” neytiri whispers…..the horror crawling into her mind. If she is forever human, that means she would have to be with the other humans…away from her mate, away from her children! To be away from her home is wrong. To not be able to hunt or share a simple kiss would risk her life. This is like a cage in her own body. And to rely on the stupid mask…no she couldn't.

“Neytiri…..why do you hate me…?” spider asks, bringing back the topic.

Not making eye contact, rather staring at the fire, she slowly responds.

“I dont hate you….I hate what you resemble…..that demon. That man. He took everything from me. When I see you, I see him. That is all I see. And I cannot look past him. I fear you would follow his trail. Resume what he could not finish. End me, ending my family. I cant…I belittle you, I say many things to you. I should not. I am aware. Yet my anger, my hate, my terrors. They overcome my vision. What I am supposed to see a child, all I can see is the darkness of my nights”

Silence follows. The sparks of the fire filling it in.

Neytiri’s words settled in spider’s mind.

“I always admired you…” spider suddenly spoke.

He didn't look up, rather looking down at his hands. Busy creating something.

“I always admired how strong you are. Despite losing everything…you remain strong, tough, fearless. And I always liked that. I liked how despite being hurt, you continue to fight. A mighty warrior is all I see. Yet you are a good mom. How you treat your kids….I always wanted a mom who can cuddle me, hold me, love me….I'm not saying I see you as a mother. But you are the closest thing to it. I am also scared of you…but I get mad. So mad that you treat me worse than all of the humans combined. All I ever wanted was just you to acknowledge me. That was all I ever wanted…”

Neytiri didn't say anything. She only looks down at her hands. What can she say? Nothing, her answer was nothing.

Sun rose and both were awake. Seeing that their new bodies are still there, they remain in the small shelter.

“Ack!” neytiri groans in pain, she was trying to open a shell of a fruit but is struggling.

“Need some help?” spider offers.

“Im fine” neytiri snaps, not wanting to be bothered. So spider shrugs. But as he turned, he hissed in pain. Looking behind him, seems he stepped on his tail. Again. This will be taking some time to get used to.

“OW!”

“Ok let me show you” spider interjects neytiri. Though she is protesting, spider ignores that. “Here, with your small fingers you have to twist the top, not the bottom. It is easier and won't hurt” he instructs. Neytiri doesn't say anything, but does how he showed her. And the shell opened, showing the ripe fruit inside. She smiled in relief. She was so hungry.

“Oh by the way, you cant eat that” spider says before she could take a bit. Raising an eyebrow, she questions him “and why not? I have always eatin this fruit”.

“Yes, but you are human now. This fruit is not safe for humans. Eat if and you will have a bad reaction to it. Dont even test it, its not fun”..

So neytiri puts the fruit down.

Damn.

“You are walking like a human,” neytiri points out. Spider tripped, again. Over his tail. Again.

“If you still wish to keep your tail intact, dont drag on your legs behind, and dont mindlessly sway your tail side to side like some beast. Have proper manners” she goes on to say.

Spider huffs, and getting up he follows her instructions. “You are na’vi now, so walk like one”.

Carefully correcting his stand and pose, he tries again. “Hey look, I am-OW!”

“What did I say?! You utter fool!”

“You pull the scales like this” neytiri instructs spider in how to removes the scales of some fishes they caught at a nearby river. Using her large blade, spider carefully does as she is teaching him. And as he does, neytiri was grinding some spices she managed to collect during their walk.

“Add more of the red bark” spider comments.

“Why?”

“Because for the sake of your taste buds, it makes the fish meat be easier to consume”

Back and forth, all day. Spider and neytiri help each other in getting used of their new bodies. New habits had to be learned, new styles and methods that can benefit the other. And all the while there was no yelling or harsh name calling. Things felt..ease. At peace. But for how long can this happen? Forever?

Night came once again, and after a full meal, spider and neytiri rested. Spider taking in his hands, admiring his dots decorating his body.

Neytiri does the same for her hair.

“Here…..for you” spider whispers a bit shyly. He hands neytiri what looked like a headband. It was weaven together well. The weaving of the omatikaya. Beads embedded well with the blue hue. It was soft and the material looked to be well made.

“Thank you….” she whispers. Putting it on, it fitted her perfectly. Of course not that she would admit.

“Here….” this time neytiri hands spider tenbeads, four reds and two yellows. “Do what you like with them” she says. Spider gripped on the beads tightly. They felt nice and smooth on his palm. Seemed to be well carved and of good quality too.

“Thank you…” he smiles. Cherishing his gift from her. Really the only act of kindless she has displayed to him. And by eywa he will keep it as a core memory until his last breathe.

However, despite the gift exchange, there is still that looming worry.

“It seems….this will be our new life now….me human, and you na’vi” neytiri says, sadness coating her words.

“I now know it is not easy….to be human. I now know what challenges you must go throug spider….your struggles have ended….and now I will struggle but…..I accept. IF this is my new body forever…I accept”

There.

She admits it, neytiri finally admits it.

Spider should feel happy, but he isnt.

“As I accept…..being na’vi. Thanks to you, I now know it is not fully easy being na’vi either. So much noises…my tail, I love my tail but it has a mind of its own. But I accept I will be na’vi but…..it doesnt seem fair….” he says.

Neytiri blinks, confused.

“How is it not fair? You finally get to have the life you long desire”

The boy bods, “Yes but…what if…the price to pay to life this life….the life I always wanted….comes at the cost of you? Arent you worried? Scared? You won't get to be with your family as much anymore. Having to eat shitty food, being indoors with all the technology you hate. It almost doesnt seem fair…”

That is true…if neytiri must, she would be limited to all she has.

“Nothing is really fair spider….but as you said…..if this is Eywa punishing….me. Then, I accept me punishment. My freedom in trade for yours…”

Spider shook his head, “no, no that is not how it would end. I will gladly give up my na’vi body. I would go back to being human. I would give it all up, for you. You are a mother to 4 kids neytiri, they need you. They need you more than I need this body. IF Eywa can hear me, hear me now. I would gladly pay the price. My na’vi for neytiri’s humanity. I would!”

By the bounds of all reality, the shell flowers from the forgotten baskets bursted out, and went straight towards them.

“I see them, look” mo’at smiles as she sees spider and neytiri coming to them. Jake sees as well, and smiles “I was starting to get worried”.

And what a sight to hold on to. Spider and neytiri? Talking peacefully? Not screaming or yelling?

“It seems it worked” jake comments. Mo’at nods, “of course, great mother always knows the right solution to any matter”

PHEW! This one took me a bit, wanted to get all the right words and emotions just right. But I am once again proud how it turned out! Thank you cutie for requesting this! Until next time! See ya!

28 notes · View notes

duhragonball · 9 months

Text

Dragon Ball Super Movie 2: Super Hero (3/5)

"What are any of us doing here? We're not even in this movie!"

So the Red Ribbon Army is trying to stage a comeback with a fresh crop of new androids, and Goku isn't around to stop them, because he's on Beerus' planet training with Vegeta and Broly. While Piccolo figures out what to do without them, the movie just goes ahead and shows us what Goku is up to. For about ten minutes.

I'm pretty sure this part of the movie is a concession to Goku's fans. Let's face it, the people love Goku, and to do a Dragon Ball movie with no Goku at all would be a risky proposition, no matter how good that movie is. Looking back at the old DBZ films, Movies 9, 10, and 11 were mostly Goku-free, but he still put in a brief appearance in each one. But those are also regarded as some of the worst entries in the series, and I don't think that's a coincidence.

Now, I'm a fan of Dragon Ball in general, so the idea of a Piccolo and Gohan movie is not only appealing to me, but I'd say it's long overdue. I'd take a Yamcha/Tien movie any day. Or a Launch standalone film. I sat through GT, so it'd take a lot to keep me out of the theater. But Toei's trying to run a business here, and they can't just depend on die-hards like me to bring in the ticket revenue. So I'm sure the decision to focus on Piccolo was a controversial one in the home office. But they probably reached a compromise by giving Goku a decent chunk of screentime as a make-good.

One thing that makes this movie so good is that they don't just toss out a character for the sake of having them in the movie. They actually take a moment to show what that character is doing these days, even if it doesn't affect the plot that much. That's important, because it lets the viewer come away feeling like they got something out of the cameo they just saw. For example, we've seen Goku and Vegeta on Beerus' planet before. This is nothing new, but this time Goku's trying to help Broly control his power. And Vegeta's trying to meditate so he can learn how to imitate Jiren's power. Goku doesn't really understand his approach, which goes to show that Vegeta's trying to push beyond the scope of the training they've done on Beerus's planet before now. Gohan is studying ants, Videl has her combat sports class, Piccolo's a homeowner, etc.

Compare this to Battle of Gods, for example. Now BoG's a good movie, don't get me wrong, but a lot of the characters who appear in the film are utterly wasted. Tien shows up but he looks and acts exactly the same as he did the last several times we've seen him. Then he shows up in Resurrection F and nothing's changed either. He says he left Chiaotzu and Yamcha behind for the big fight, but would it matter either way? If they showed up, they wouldn't do anything new with those guys either.

The trick is to not just put Ox King in your movie, but to have him mention something that he's gotten up to lately, something Ox King fans can mull over later. "Oh, hey, remember how Ox King said he was going back to school to get a sociology degree?" You can sink your teeth into that, even if that's the only thing that you find out about from him. It's a lot better than "It's Bulma's birthday, and one of the guests is Ox King, a character who certainly exists."

Let's talk about Vegeta's revelation in this movie, since it caused some commotion among the fans. Goku complains that Vegeta had just been sitting still lately, which he thinks is a waste of time. Vegeta explains that he's been studying the way Jiren fought during the Tournament of Power. While he dominated Goku and Vegeta--sometimes both at once-- Vegeta is certain that Jiren isn't that much stronger than they are. What made Jiren so tough to deal with was that he was completely relaxed until the very moment he chose to strike, which allowed him to put all of his power into those brief offensive moments. But since Vegeta can't do that himself, he's trying to train his mind to conceptualize it before he tries to make his body learn how.

So a lot of fans saw this and concluded that the studio hates Goku, or they think Goku's an idiot, or that the studio is stupid for failing to remember that Goku has meditated before in the past. There has always been a subset of the fanbase that tries to turn everything into a Manichean conflict between Goku and Vegeta. In this case, if Vegeta figures something out before Goku does, then it means that Toei or Shueisha or Akira Toriyama himself must hate Goku.

This is stupid on the face of it, because Akira Toriyama literally created the character and he's credited with the screenplay for this movie. If he truly despised Goku, why would he even have Goku in the movie at all? He could have killed him off a long time ago. Why even make a Dragon Ball movie when he could have been working on some Dr. Slump project instead?

All this scene is... and I promise you, it's nothing more to it..., is a exploration of what the boys are doing on Beerus' planet. They train here, of course. We've seen that before, but why are they training here? Well, they need to receive instructions and guidance from Whis, and this is where Whis lives. Okay, and why is Whis so important to the process? Why can't they just stay on Earth and spar like they used to do? Because that only gets them so far. They need to learn new ways of thinking in order to surpass the level they're already at.

And what does that mean exactly? Well, they can't just do a million pushups. It doesn't work that way. There's other things they have to figure out, and that requires them to think of things they hadn't thought of before. And Whis is already beyond them in terms of power, so he knows things that they're still struggling to grasp. But Whis can't just spell it out for them. He can describe what they need to do, but it's still up to Goku and Vegeta to understand and internalize it.

And that's what they're doing here. They're basically brainstorming ways to get stronger. This time, Vegeta had an idea, and he's following it to see where it leads. Whis approves, so he seems to be on the right track. Tomorrow, maybe Goku will have another good idea, and so on.

But it's not always going to be one or the other who has the breakthrough. And it would be stupid for them both to have the same idea at the same time, just so the partisan fans won't feel slighted. Goku seems to think he can get a lot out of working with Broly, but that hasn't paid off just yet. It might prove more productive than what Vegeta is working on at the moment, but there's only one way to find out.

As far as Goku failing to recognize the value of meditation, well, he's had to re-learn that lesson several times. People will point to the time he meditated in Otherworld, or the time he meditated during his training with Mr. Popo, but they forget that this sort of focus and concentration was part of his training with Master Roshi as well. Whis scolded both Goku and Vegeta on this point when they first trained with him in Resurrection F. We can draw one of two conclusions here.

Goku's quest for greater strength is a flat circle. He just keeps re-discovering the same fundamentals, making a big gain in power, and then forgetting how he achieved that improvement.

Akira Toriyama is recycling the same martial arts hokum over and over again, because he only needs to show the characters working for greater strength. He does not need to design a genuine and internally consistent system for fantasy martial arts, any more than the writers of Star Trek need to explain how dilithium crystals make the ship go.

Anyway, Whis proposes a Goku/Broly/Vegeta three-way match, but no one wants Broly to fight in case he flips out and wrecks the entire planet. Then Beerus wakes up and finds out he has new houseguests. Goku explains that this is a good place to hide Broly from Frieza, and before Beerus can object, he meets Lemo and samples his cooking. It's good, so Beerus decides he can stay. Then Cheelai walks by with a bag full of loot she stole from Beerus' home. But Beerus decides he likes Cheelai's looks, so he agrees to let her stay too. So that's decided.

I've also seen some fans gripe about how Cheelai didn't spend much time with Broly in this movie, and Beerus' crush on Cheelai muddies the waters further. Look, none of these characters got a lot of screen time in this movie. This scene could be cut entirely and you wouldn't miss a thing. Half of it is Goku sparring with Vegeta, so of course Broly and Cheelai weren't going to have a whirlwind romance in this thing.

All I know for certain is that Cheelai walked by Broly and went out of her way to say he was "looking good", which is a lot more than she complimented anyone else on this planet. I mean, she's stealing Beerus' stuff, which ought to tell you how much she's into his lanky purple ass.

Moving on, Whis still wants to do that sparring match, if only so Broly can learn to appreciate a high-level battle with the fighters maintaining control of their powers. But Goku wants to eat first and so they stop for lunch.

And yeah, then this movie up and decides to give us Goku/Vegeta III, just like that. I don't want to oversell it, but it's an excellent fight. Whis sets the ground rules to that transformations and ki blasts are forbidden, so in a lot of ways this looks a lot like the kind of battle they might have had at the 25th Budokai before Babidi's henchmen got involved. We only get to see a few minutes of it, but they're so evenly matched that the fight takes a really long time to settle, so maybe it's just as well.

Beerus notes that Vegeta's moves have changed in an almost imperceptible way, due to his recent meditation training. Still, he loses interest in the fight and decides to get ice cream while the boys slug it out. I'm pretty sure Cheelai never cared in the first place, but Broly is enthralled with this action. He's getting to watch two of the greatest Saiyans ever put on a clinic, and he's soaking it up like a sponge.

But the important thing, at least as far as this movie goes, is that Beerus tosses an empty ice cream carton onto Whis' staff, so no one notice it flashing when Bulma tries to call him.

Which means Piccolo's on his own, at least for the time being. He gets the news from Bulma while he's picking up some senzu beans from Korin. The situation looks pretty bad, since Piccolo estimates that the Gammas' power is roughly on par with Goku and Vegeta's. And Dr. Hedo might know 17 and 18's weak spots, so they might not be able to help either. There is Majin Buu, though...

.... ha ha ha! No, did you think this one was going to be any different? Buu's sleeping through this crisis too. Seriously, why did they keep him alive at the end of the Buu Saga if no one had any plans to use him for anything?

So what about Gohan? That's what Korin asks, but Piccolo just says they can't count on Gohan right now, which... ouch.

But Piccolo does have one other idea, and so he flies up to see Dende on the Lookout and asks him to draw out his hidden power. See, the Kami of Planet Namek, Grand Elder Guru, was able to power up Krillin and Gohan way back in the day. Now, Dende is the Kami of Earth, so Piccolo figures Dende could do the same for him.

Only, no, it doesn't work that way. Turns out a Dragon-Type Namekian has to reach a certain age before they can use that sort of ability, and Dende's too young. On the other hand, Dende suggests using the Dragon Balls to solve the problem. They could simply wish away the Red Ribbon Army, but Piccolo doesn't care for that idea. Okay, well what about using Shenron to draw out Piccolo's hidden power? Can Shenron do that? Dende's like "gimme a minute."

So Dende wheels out the cart with the model of Shenron on it, and he powers a flask of water on the model. This makes it glow, and somehow upgrades Shenron so that he can grant a wish to draw out a person's hidden powers. Piccolo remarks that he had no idea any of this was possible when he was Kami. To be fair, when Piccolo was Kami, he didn't even know he was a Namekian, so there's a lot of stuff he was out of the loop for.

Now all Piccolo needs is the Dragon Balls, but Dende tells him that Bulma probably has them already. Ever since Frieza came back, Bulma's been gathering up the Dragon Balls every year, using the wishes up so that they'll be inactive in case any bad guys try to use them. Piccolo calls to ask her and yes, she has the whole set. In the dub, he asks her how many she has and she's like "Oh, uh.... All of them?!" I can't be sure, but I think that's a reference to the "All of them?" line from the dub of Dragon Ball, when Piccolo tried to zap Goku, but he missed all his vital organs. Anyway, Piccolo tells her to hang on to the balls until he gets there.

So they summon Shenron and it works. Piccolo gets stronger, and the Dragon promises that he threw in "a little extra".

That still leaves two wishes to use, so Bulma asks for a nicer ass and slightly longer eyelashes. Then she realizes -- too late-- that they could have wished to bring Goku and Vegeta back to Earth. Whoops.

"Shenron, I wish for you to bring Goku and Vegeta to Earth, so that they might bear witness to all this junk within my trunk."

So Piccolo returns to the Red Ribbon base and just walks right back to the line of soldiers there in Magenta's command room. They're still talking, and Piccolo tells the other soldiers he had to go potty. No one suspects a thing.

Magenta's trying to figure out what to do next. He'd like to target Goku and Vegeta, but no one knows where they are. Mr. Satan is too risky, since no one seems to know what his powers are, exactly. Then Carmine suggests Gohan be the next target. His intel says that it was Gohan who defeated Cell, and he has lots of spy footage of Piccolo going to his house to visit, which suggests that Gohan is a "shadow boss" in Bulma's organization. Magenta likes the idea of taking Gohan out, but he doesn't want Red Ribbon guys operating in the city, since it's too soon to reveal their presence to the wider public.

But if they could kidnap Gohan's daughter and lure him to the Red Ribbon base, then they could fight him on their own turf. Carmine finds that to be a good idea, as it would improve troop morale. Magenta orders a two-man team go to fetch Pan, and Piccolo volunteers, saying that he lives in the same neighborhood and knows Pan's face, because she's the granddaughter of Mr. Satan.

Dr. Hedo objects to the kidnapping angle, but Magenta tells him to mind his own business. Hmmm...

So Piccolo will be picking up Pan from preschool after all, just a bit later than planned. I don't know why Pan can't just run home by herself. She made it all the way here from Piccolo's house, didn't she?

One thing I like about this scene is how there's one other kid here who gets picked up, and that kid's mom apologizes for being late, so it's pretty clear that it's well after 1pm. Pan's been here a while. Her teacher assures here that someone will show up soon, but Pan's still kind of disappointed.

The other Red Ribbon soldier sent to do the kidnapping thinks this will be easy, so he just walks right up to Pan and tells her his mom sent him, but she demolishes him with a single blow.

Then Piccolo reveals himself and Pan recognizes him by his ki and calms down. The teacher already knows Piccolo, so she's cool with him, and Piccolo explains that this was all a security drill arranged by Mr. Satan. Now, in the dub, Piccolo addresses the teacher as "Janet", implying that he knows her as well as she knows him, and I think this is what led to the genesis of the Piccolo/Janet ship. I don't have a lot to say about it that hasn't already been said, but I'm all for Piccolo and Janet getting together. Janet's a fine foxy lady, and Piccolo's reputation speaks for itself.

Of course, Piccolo now has to fly the Red Ribbon airship back to base. He's a pretty crappy pilot, but he manages. I like to think Janet is still impressed, though. "Wow," she thinks as he flies away, crashing into a billboard. "Is there anything he can't do?"

Piccolo's plan is pretty simple. He explains the situation to Pan, and convinces her to play along with the kidnapping. When Gohan shows up to rescue her, he'll kick everyone's ass and that'll take care of everything. Actually, that sounds a little half-baked to me. Piccolo got a power up from Shenron, but is that enough? Anyway, they bring Pan to the base and take a video of her acting scared, then Magenta sends Piccolo and the other guy back to the city to show it to Gohan. Wait, why is that Namekian chair back there? What's that about.

Well, it doesn't matter because Pan sees some cookies and she's like "Don't mind if I do!" but then...

Carmine takes the plate away! BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

You suck, Carmine!

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Pan would probably attack him right there, except Piccolo's behind him trying to calm her down.

So Piccolo and 15 go to Gohan's house, and Piccolo takes him to the window since he knows Gohan won't answer the door. Notably, Gohan doesn't recognize Piccolo through his disguise, even though Pan saw through it immediately. Also, Gohan hasn't bothered to change out of the clothes Piccolo put him in this morning. Those must be fascinating ants he's working on.

15 shows Gohan the video of Pan and RIP the windowsill.

He turns Super Saiyan and scares the shit out of 15, who promises Pan will be fine if he just returns with him to the base. Gohan gets so mad he makes a crater in the ground...

... and the house starts to list down into the hole. But Piccolo doesn't mind because his plan is working. Gohan's back in a fighting mood and he can clobber the Gammas!

Or can he...?

99 notes · View notes