concussed-to-pieces

[concussed-to-pieces]

It's that time of year again! Enjoy 💚

To Rest

Art Source

Fandom: Friday The 13th

Pairing: N/A, platonic Jason/AFAB (female-presenting) Reader

Rating: Holy shit T.

AN: I’ve had a huge soft spot for Jason ever since I was first introduced to the Friday The 13th franchise, yes I have a problem and I am well aware of it! This is just a little thing that’s been bouncing around in my head since uhhhh probably September of last year. Enjoy!

Tag List: @renegademustelid @crookedmoonsaultpunk @i-am-a-random-simp @kalliravenne @cookiethewriter @colesterstrudel @toxiicpop @pedrosbigdorkenergy @zombiexbody

@amneris21 @anonymouscosmos

(Also my messages/notes aren't loading properly at the moment, so if you asked for a tag and I missed you, I apologize!)

[!TRIGGER WARNING!: For a singular instance of animal abuse, general peril and violence, mentions of drowning, insensitive language, and vague depictions of gore and death. This is mainly set during the first height of the pandemic in North America and as such will briefly mention the virus. Stay safe!]

The summer of 2015 definitely didn't rank highly on your list of great summers, all due to a condensed series of unfortunate events that started with one particular outing.

Mainly it had begun with your 'friends' successfully convincing you to join them and a few boys that they had met on their campus. You remembered everybody piling into someone's Jeep after meeting up in an old dirt parking lot, eventually ending up stuffed between one of your friends and one loud, rambunctious frat boy who seemed to want nothing more than to deafen you.

The night was off to a poor start for you, but the last thing you wanted was to be seen as rude or boring. After all, these were supposed to be the best years of your life, right? You could probably endure a little momentary discomfort.

A fire was built, beers were cracked. The full moon glittered on the lake and you felt a touch more at ease, enough to reluctantly accept a beer. Which you promptly proceeded to forget about, the can slowly sweating and going warm in your hand as you listened to the latest 'scary' story one of the young men was telling.

He was trying his damnedest to make this particular one sound horrifying, going into detail regarding how hideous a certain child had been. "His face was fucked, his teeth and eyes were all uneven, and on top of that he was slow-"

"Man, I hope you never have kids." You remarked dryly, interrupting his tirade about just how revolting the little boy was. "They can't help being born a certain way, you know. People can outgrow their bully phases and their ugly phases, but I guess in your instance that would be asking too much."

"Shit man, I would have drowned him myself! From what I've heard, I'd be doing the world a favor!" His words and laughter were cruel, naked disdain for the different shining through.

"Boy, you are a piece of work." You muttered.

"And the kid was drowned, right in this lake!" He roared over you theatrically, stabbing a finger in the direction of the waterline. "His mom lost it, going on a murder spree to exact her revenge upon the people who let her little boy drown on their watch! And when they finally killed the bitch, the kid came back! As a huge murder zombie, destined to rip anything apart that came near his territory!" He crooked his fingers into claws and scratched at the air, which you thought was a bit idiotic. The boy had turned into a zombie, not a werewolf. "And to this day, he roams these lands, searching for intru--"

One of your friends let out a high, terrified scream that made you flinch, and you were halfway on your feet before you realized that it was just the other boy that had snuck up behind her to give her a fright. The young men started to laugh, both at her and at you for being so jumpy, and you had enough.

You stormed over to the young man who had startled your friend and without pause, poured your warm beer over his head. Then, you turned on the still-laughing storyteller. "Imagine if you were drowned, assface!" You shouted as his snickering died down. "You don't think your mom would go through hell and back to make the people responsible pay? That story wasn't scary, it was fucking sad and it just shows how shitty people can be!" You gestured at the lake, continuing hotly, "if that story is true, if any of that is true, imagine how disrespectful you're being! Imagine how horrible it was to be that little kid, you douchebag!"

You were nearly in tears, fed up with the whole scenario and wanting nothing more than to go home. You should have known better than to believe you would have a good time, what had you been thinking? These things always ended the same way. You should have just stayed at the dorms.

"Hey, calm down, it's only a story." The friend that had gotten spooked tried to smooth things over, but you just shook your head and stomped over to where you had left your jacket.

"I'm going back to my car."

"What, that's like a mile and a half walk!" Your other friend protested.

"I'm not going to sit around and listen to Chucklefuck over here have the time of his life talking about some innocent kid like he deserved to die." You snarled, turning on your heel. "Have a great night. I'll see you guys on Monday."

…

Jason followed you through the trees beside the winding dirt path back to the access road. You were...strange. No one showed sympathy for his early end, too absorbed with their scary stories to think about the real child whose life was cut so tragically short.

Normally, normally, he would have ended you right here. A straggler was always easy to manage. Your friends wouldn't even know you were dead. He would be silent.

"Stupid jerks." You huffed to yourself, startling him out of his reverie. "This whole night was a dumb idea. Should have known better."

Maybe he could just...scare you. Make it so you wouldn't want to ever come back. Jason gripped the machete a little tighter as he pondered what to do. He wasn't used to not killing people, but you had been so angry…

It was like the anger his mother had tried to conceal from him when he was alive. He could vaguely remember her shouting at a man in a grocery store parking lot because the man had mocked her son's lopsided eyes. "Don't listen to him, Jason. Some people are ugly on the inside," his mother had told him later.

"Just imagine being a kid, not knowing what's going on-" You were still talking to yourself, appearing absolutely incensed as you gesticulated wildly. "Being so small and helpless, not knowing how to take care of yourself...shit, college is bad enough!" You pawed at your eyes, and Jason caught the wet blotch of moisture on the sleeve of your jacket. You were crying.

For him?

People cried at him often, begging for mercy, pleading with him not to end their worthless lives. But…

Jason carelessly trod on an old dead branch, the brittle wood snapping as loud as a gunshot in the sleepy silence of the forest. He froze, certain that you would notice. Yet you kept walking, your conversation with yourself clearly drowning out whatever sounds he accidentally made.

"-talking about how weird he looked, kids look weird no matter what! Kids all pick on each other for being weird all the time and it's the dumbest shit. How do you get that old without growing out of being a little brat?!" You were half-yelling at this point, kicking a rock off the trail. "Scary story, my ass!"

This was odd. Jason decided he would stop here, just watching you until you vanished further down the path to the old camp parking lot. He told himself he was giving you a head start, but he knew that was a lie.

…

The awful news reached you on Monday and you were stunned.

The Jeep had apparently been found mangled against a boulder out in the woods by the mouth of the access road, the remains of your friends and those two young men inside.

They had been driving while intoxicated and simply lost control of the vehicle. It was tragic, but a mistake that many young people made every year. Your heart ached for the suffering that their families must be going through, and you made up your mind to bring some flowers to the area after you got out of class.

"Four white roses, please," was your request to the local florist, who gave you a sympathetic look. You were struck by a sudden thought as she went to wrap the stems in a damp paper towel. "Actually…" You dug around in your pocket for another dollar. Wasn’t like you couldn’t eat instant noodles for another day or two! "Make it five, please?"

"I'm sorry hun, all I've got left are pink or red ones. There's been a lot of people in today." The florist apologized, gesturing at the shelves that were normally full of arrangements. "Can I get you anything else? Maybe some lilies? I've got some orange stargazers."

Mulling over the choice, you finally requested, "can I have the nicest pink rose you've got, please?"

…

You came back. Why? This was very confusing.

Jason tilted his head, watching you from the safety of the foliage. There had been too many people around today as-is. He shouldn't have let those bad people get into their car. Because he had followed you first, they had nearly gotten away. But they did themselves in practically without his help, which was very convenient. All he had done was bang on the side of the vehicle and it had sent them into a drunken spiral of panic.

You had flowers and he realized that you must be here for your friends. Vigil, if he was thinking of the right word. You were crying again.

You lingered beside that large rock for a time, your fingers smoothing over the scrapes that the vehicle had made. Jason watched curiously as you placed four of the five flowers you had on the ground alongside the multitude of other arrangements that various people had dropped off during the day, giving them a gentle little pat.

If you had five flowers but only four friends, then who was the fifth one for? Though from your angry muttering the other night, they hadn't seemed like your friends. Why would you be sad about them?

You locked your car and headed to the path. Jason followed you, making certain to keep silent this time. You were still sniffling and snuffling. Did you blame yourself for their deaths? He wished he could tell you not to. They had been bad, bad people, coming into his territory, having sex and drinking until they couldn't see straight. They deserved to be punished.

You reached the shorefront, pausing to peel your shoes and socks off before you waded into the water. You only went in to a little below your knees, but Jason watched you like a hawk.

You put the pink flower down. In the water? Why?

"Hey, I know you can't hear me. I know you probably aren't hanging around here and I got all bent out of shape the other night over nothing." Your voice was shaky from crying. "I lost some people and it's hard. But I'm sorry for what those guys said about you. What happened to you, it was awful." You took a deep breath, staring out at the twilight water. "You must have been so scared."

Jason went even more still than usual, just listening. Were you talking about...him? Who he had been?

"I didn't really know the two girls all that well, we only met last semester. And those boys--" You made this odd, angry-dismissive noise. "But it's always sad when somebody dies. Especially if they're young." Your fingertips trailed through the water. "And you were so young. Ten, according to what came up on Google." Your expression was far away as you repeated, "you must have been so scared."

Scared.

The way the lake had closed over his head with all the finality of a crushing wave of concrete. He had struggled, struggled with what little strength that body had possessed.

Scared. Panic, terror.

It was no good. Water had poured into his lungs, drowning him inches from help, from safety.

His mother had been so sad, so full of grief and love for him…

…

You blinked back more tears as you thought about what you had read online. Every story had just gotten more and more sensationalistic, but all you could think about was that he had been a child, practically a baby to your adult brain. Yet people decided that because he looked or acted different, he deserved to be made into some urban legend. A monster.

"It's not fair!" You shouted abruptly, kicking your foot out beneath the water and nearly losing your balance. "The way that people treated you wasn't fucking fair! You were a kid for fuck's sake! The only thing you should have had to worry about was whether you would get home in time for Leave It To Beaver or whatever the hell was on TV in the fifties!" You growled, "instead of worrying about whether someone is going to hurt you just for looking different! I hate it!"

It had been an emotional day and it felt good for you to get all of that off your chest. But as you stood in the water, fists clenched, the pink rose bobbing forlornly a few feet away, you heard a sound behind you.

…

Jason watched the border collie latch it's jaws onto one of your sneakers and promptly sprint away, leaving you to stare after it flabbergasted.

"Hey, hey! That's my shoe!" You yelled, rushing to the shore and awkwardly shuffling into your remaining sneaker. "Get back here!"

"What'd you find, Chad?" A different voice. A man's voice. Jason straightened up. "Is that a shoe?"

Three men emerged from the treeline, each one carrying a small pack. You stood there, your hands on your hips like a disappointed parent. "Excuse me, but your dog-"

"Wow, you're definitely not what we expected to find!" The first man cut you off with a grin. "We were hoping for a monster."

"Please give me my shoe back." You requested curtly. "I have to get home."

"Whoa, what's the rush?" One of the other men asked, circling lazily around to your right. "We just got here. You not in the mood for company?"

"Not particularly, no."

"Aww, tell Dennis what happened. I'm sure I can make it all better." The man cooed, draping an arm around your shoulders and laughing when you quickly shoved it off. "So uptight! Guess you really aren't in the mood. Hey Brett, toss me the shoe."

The first man who had spoken, apparently Brett, instead pitched the shoe to their third friend. The three men began a game of keep-away with your sneaker, leaving you standing off to the side trying to balance on one foot. "Please, I just really need to leave." You sounded a little shakier now, like you were going to start crying again.

Chad the dog barked and nipped at Brett's hand in an attempt to get the sneaker, and the man rewarded the dog with a violent shove that knocked it onto its back. "Fuck off Chad, Jesus you're annoying," Brett griped. He then rounded on you with a look in his eyes that Jason decided he didn't care for one bit. "I'll tell you what. You want this shoe of yours back, it'll cost you." Brett tapped his cheek playfully. "Right here."

You were staring at the dog currently whining and cowering, then your eyes flicked up to look at Brett. Now that was an expression Jason knew well. It usually meant that his victims were going to make things more difficult than they needed to be, but right now he couldn't really blame you.

Wordlessly, you slipped on your other sock, and approached the braggadocious young man. Brett made a point of tapping his cheek again, obviously requesting something. "Shoe first." You said stiffly. The man obliged you with a bemused expression, his two friends jeering as you bent over to put the sneaker on.

Jason, overly alert due to the man's rough treatment of his dog, relished what happened next. Mainly that you punched Brett right in his cheek where he had been indicating for you to...do what, exactly? Kiss?

You yelled, "that a good enough one for you?!", and then Dennis grabbed you from behind. The man was bigger and stronger than you, hauling you off the ground and pinning your arms at your sides. You struggled and kicked, still shouting furiously at Brett. "You're a piece of trash, you-"

Dennis threw you bodily into the water, the three men laughing as you reemerged from the lake sputtering. "How about you cool off for a minute, princess?" Brett sneered. Jason debated making an appearance, the hilt of his machete digging into his palm from how tightly he was holding it. He didn't want you to be scared of him, as strange as that was to realize, but these men were bullying you.

"How about you three pack it in for the night before this gets ugly?!" You retorted, trying and failing to dodge when the third man grabbed a handful of your wet sweatshirt. He then gave the fabric a sharp yank, pitching you backwards in the shallow water. You went limp.

"Tim, what the fuck man?" Brett sighed, sounding mildly inconvenienced. "Well c'mon, pull them out of the water. You knocked 'em out. Is there a rock there or somethin'?"

"Lake could probably use another victim." Tim snickered, releasing you instead of doing as his friend said. "I thought we were freak hunting anyways. They'll be good bait, right?"

"You're so dumb. Jason doesn't eat his victims." Dennis said, rolling his eyes. "Even if he did, you need to get them out of the water. They'll drown."

"S'like a foot deep!" Tim whined in protest.

Jason had heard enough. If you drowned while he was right here, right here--

He couldn't let that happen to you. He wasn't sure why, but he couldn't.

…

You didn't remember much. How you got out of the water was a mystery. You thought that you heard someone screaming, and then there was this unyielding pressure on your chest for a moment that felt like forever.

You faded back out of consciousness, blinking awake when a warm tongue slobbered on your cheek.

Border collie, you realized, the black nose inches from your eyes. Chad, I think. "Oof, what the hell happened?" You groaned to the dog, who just licked you more. You went to sit up, your head absolutely pounding. "Oh, Jesus. Ow." You mumbled, feeling the left side of your head and grimacing when your fingers contacted broken skin. "Holy shit." Your mouth tasted like lake water. "Did you get me out of there, boy?" You asked Chad, as if he could actually answer you. The dog whined, shoving his nose beneath your arm.

Deep footprints led out of the water, but there were no marks from where someone would have dragged your body. Had those guys carried you onto the shore and then run away?

…

Once Jason had made certain you were breathing by pressing what was left of one battered ear to your sternum, he had gone after those bad men. Normally, he found no real satisfaction in killing. It was a chore, a job that he performed to the fullest of his abilities, but still a job. Tonight, however...

Stalking them through the trees had proved to be an easy method of separating them, and one by one they fell to his blade. The one who had tried to drown you was last, the man screaming and pleading to be spared as Jason raised the machete high and brought it down with a grim air of finality. Pride flooded his body. They wouldn't be able to hurt anyone again. Not the dog, not you, no one.

He paused. Since when had that concerned him? He killed bad people who trespassed on his territory, bad people like the counselors who had let him drown or the bullies who had shoved him into the water.

He didn't protect. He killed because that was what he was supposed to do, what he was compelled to do.

You would have drowned, though. Just like him. He couldn't let that happen.

Not again.

When he made his way back to the shore, he noticed you were on your feet. There was a wound on the side of your head, though. The dog had stayed with you. Good dog! Jason thought, keep them safe.

"You're a good boy," you said, unconsciously echoing Jason's sentiment. "Let's get you back to your owners, okay? Maybe they got you microchipped. Chad, though...that's such a lame name." You wrinkled your nose in disdain. "Those guys were a bunch of pricks, so of course they would name their dog like a prick too."

The dog obediently trotted alongside you all the way back to your car. Jason tailed you, telling himself it was to make certain that you left. Occasionally the dog seemed to catch his scent, the animal pausing and snuffling around while you waited patiently. You had used some soaked tissues in your sweatshirt pocket to stop the bleeding on your head, and Jason was confused to find that he was pleased about that.

The remains of the pink rose sat on his dresser for several weeks, eventually drying up and crumbling into dust when he accidentally disturbed it. It was better that way, he supposed. It reminded him of you, and thinking of what he had done for you made his head hurt.

He had never saved anyone before.

…

You unfortunately weren't able to track down Chad's owners, despite taking him to the vet to scan for a chip, posting on a few local Facebook pages and making up a bunch of flyers.

You woke up one morning with the dog at the foot of your bed and you decided on a whim that he needed a new name. Chad was just too frat-house for your new dog. Yours.

You smiled to yourself, hugging the pup. "Hey boy, what do you think of Montgomery?" The dog had the audacity to yawn at you, making you laugh. "Okay, okay, how about Salem? Sanderson?" You rumpled his fur and the dog excitedly leaped out of the bed, woofing as he anticipated you getting up. "Oh, we could go military! Delta Force dog!" You teased, ruffling his fur until it stuck out funny. "Or we could be dignified, name you Theodore or Edward. Very fancy."

Through the day you kept trying new names, until you finally settled on a keeper.

"Maybe Swayze? You're my dancing fiend, aren't you?" You suggested when the dog bounced around your legs while you prepared a cup of instant noodles. "I think it suits you." Swayze boofed as if in reply, making you laugh. "Alright! Swayze it is, my good boy."

...

2020 was shaping up to be an absolute clusterfuck of a year. At least your job let you work remotely.

A new year, and in the spring you finally moved into a house of your own. Unfortunately it bordered on the 'cursed' land of the former Camp Crystal Lake, but you put no stock in the local myths. You had never witnessed any sort of grisly, paranormal activity, and you and Swayze had visited the lake at least once a month for the past five years!

As far as you were concerned, the story was just that. A story, and a mean-spirited one at that. Bored locals seemed to get a little too caught up in making monsters out of their men, site after site popping up dedicated to the 'Terror of Camp Blood' or 'The Unkillable Shadow'. After your first time researching in 2015, slogging through all the frankly-offensive trash, you had stopped looking up anything to do with the Crystal Lake killings or Jason Voorhees. The whole situation was tragic and you couldn't help but wish that people weren't so persistent or imaginative.

This was hardly the first time a sleepy town had exaggerated and glamorized a terrible event to drum up tourism. You knew that you shouldn't be so hung up on it.

That night always came back to you, though. Who had pulled you out of the water? In a strange way, you almost wanted to think it had been the little boy who drowned. Which was silly, of course! It was far more likely that it had just been those men who were responsible for manhandling you in the first place.

But every year on the anniversary of the event, rain or shine, you were always sure to go to the lakefront with a single flower from the town florist. You would wade into the lake and imagine that you were speaking to the lost little boy, and you thanked him a multitude of times for looking out for you. You would rather thank a long-gone child for their imagined part in your rescue versus thanking the men who may have thought better of their awful behavior after someone was harmed.

This particular day started out like any other. Breakfast in your modest kitchen, lunch tucked into your solar backpack along with a tennis ball and some treats for Swayze. You and the border collie set out a bit before noon, heading into the forest as was usual. During the decent weather days, you opted to work outside as much as possible. You knew once winter came you would be cooped up until at least March, so you tried to get all the sunlight in while you could.

Whether due to how remote it was, or due to the reputation of the camp, you never saw anyone else on your excursions. You didn't mind it though, it was peaceful. At this juncture of the pandemic, it was also essentially required.

The mask you had picked out for today (one patterned all over with little red x designs) sat comfortably in your pocket, in the unlikely event that someone might actually be present at the lake. Better safe than sorry, after all!

...

You were coming around much more often and Jason wasn't sure if he was particularly happy about that. Every day if it didn’t rain. You were the only person he had seen for a while. How long? A while. Time was difficult. He had given up on trying to keep track. It meant nothing to him anyways.

The dog looked good. It clearly loved you, always at your side and playful. And you seemed to treat it kindly, which was important. Why? Well, it just was.

He wasn't sure why today was different. It felt different, he thought stubbornly. Not everything needed an answer. He had been called 'slow' or other, far more unkind things when he had been alive, so he had resigned himself to not being able to know things at an early age.

His mother had always called him her smart boy, and that had been enough for him.

Time had no business escaping from him like it often did.

The familiar sound of your footfalls on the overgrown path alerted him to your presence, and Jason watched as you and your dog sauntered down to the gravelly waterfront. Just like every day, he watched you shake the wrinkles out of your blanket and stretch, watched your dog prance in circles around you before settling in on the blanket.

He hadn't even noticed that he was placing his machete down before the tip dug into the dirt. Jason stared at the ground in confusion, then slowly released the handle of the weapon.

If you reacted poorly when you reacted poorly he could easily kill you without the aid of the implement, he reasoned with himself.

Was this...exciting? Was it interesting? Anxious.

Jason rose back to his full height and shuffled to the edge of the beach, standing awkwardly in the shade of the trees. Should he make some kind of noise? Do something to get your attention? What if you were scared of him?

His fists clenched and Jason scuffed a boot on the gravel, disturbing the stones and making you glance up from your...whatever it was that you were always using.

The dog stirred, looking up as well. It seemed to notice Jason before you did, barking at him and wagging its tail. Jason froze at the sound, and he found himself regretting this course of action even more when you made a noise of distress in your throat.

Bad idea. Bad idea. He went to turn and vanish back into the woods and never attempt something so stupid again. But--

...

"Wait, don't go!" You called. "I've got a mask too, we can stay six feet apart!" You patted the sand next to you. "I'm more partial to the Ducks, but the Canadiens aren't half bad." You continued, taking the cue from the man's mask and trying to put him at ease by yammering about hockey.

He seemed reluctant, just lingering at the treeline.

"I've been working remotely for most of this, I promise I'm safe!" You added, a little self-conscious now as you hooked the loops for your mask over your ears.

The man slowly, slowly shuffled down the beach, and as he drew closer you realized just how gargantuan he was. Instead of being wary or defensive though, Swayze began to wag his tail excitedly.

"I don't see a lot of people out here. That's why I come, especially with everything how it is nowadays." You sighed through your mask. "And I'm not a local, I moved here for college, so I didn't know about the whole...spooky story thing until after I started coming around regularly."

The man had gotten close enough for Swayze to reach him on his leash, and the dog jumped up to place his muddy paws on the man's legs.

"Swayze, sit!" You scolded the dog, "no jumping on people, remember your manners." Giving you a guilty look, the border collie sat obediently at the man's feet instead, his tail still going a mile a minute. "Wow, he really likes you!" You commented, trying hard to make sure that the man felt at ease. Some people mistook Swayze's energy for aggression, and this large man seemed to be holding his breath. He radiated pensive, like he was about to go into flight mode. "You can pet him, if you'd like." You encouraged, a little startled by how fast his hand shot forward to touch the dog. So, not scared of the dog, nervous about the owner.

Swayze lolled his tongue out while he happily accepted the rough petting and one-fingered behind the ear scritches. The man appeared wholly transfixed by the dog and it was weirdly sweet.

"Do you live around here?" You asked in an attempt to make conversation. The man nodded, not looking up at you. "I've only just recently moved closer. The interest rates were good, y'know?" You weren't exactly going to tell this stranger where you lived, but fair was fair. You introduced yourself and Swayze, then asked his name.

The man slowly shook his head, making a garbled noise in his throat. He placed a gloved hand on his collarbone, grunting after a moment.

"You can't talk?" You guessed, and he nodded in reply. "Huh, okay. I know some ASL, if you…?" The man cocked his head to the side. "Sign language?" You clarified, confused when he shook his head again. "How do you usually talk to people?"

A shrug. Well, it was a bit presumptuous of you to demand answers from someone who couldn't speak. You felt a little foolish.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable or anything." You apologized hurriedly. Another shrug, the man petting Swayze. It was difficult to tell in the sun-dappled light, but what little skin you could see at his neck looked incredibly pallid and scarred. "It's just been a while since I've seen another person and I've always been really, really awkward." Your laugh was a little stilted. "If I'm bugging you I can totally leave."

There was a long pause, and then the man shook his head.

"This situation really is something, huh?" You sighed, scuffing your sneakers in the rocky sand. "Seems like every day there's more bad news. I come out here to do my work so at least I'm not trapped inside like a lot of people, or out of a job, or doing a job that puts me at risk, y'know?" You glanced over at the man, smiling under your mask. "Hey, but thanks for doing your part! I'm glad that you understand how important this stuff is."

You watched him interact with Swayze, taking in how stained and ragged his clothes were. You wondered if he was homeless, and even though you had no proof you felt a rush of sympathy. You were scared enough and you had a house, a job that paid well and no extra responsibilities. What would happen to him during the winter?

…

Confused.

Confused confused confused.

You weren't scared of him. The dog seemed to remember him, wagging its tail and huffing happily. Why did you have a mask? You weren't like him, you weren't…wrong-looking.

Jason grimaced beneath his own facial shield. You thanked him for wearing his mask. Did you know...did you know what he looked like? Would you be scared of him if you saw his face?

Most people were scared of him even without seeing his face. You weren't, though. You hadn't been.

A job that puts you at risk...what did that mean? Did you work in a mill before? His mother had told him about people losing fingers or getting caught by their hair and clothes to warn him away from trying to touch the fast-moving parts of her sewing machine. A job like that?

But how did you work out here? Jason pondered for a moment, then realized that you always had that thing with you. He had seen the larger ones, the...computers, that was it, the things with screens that campers had more and more often. They always ended up destroyed, crushed by his hands or waterlogged. Cameras. Telephones. Flash things, or things that let people call for help. He dumped them into the lake, threw them as far as he could.

You just seemed to tap at yours a lot. You would point it at your dog too, laughing as the animal did something silly. Sometimes you had music. Jason liked the music you played, it reminded him of the records his mother had and you kept it quiet.

This was so frustrating, he had so many questions that he couldn't ask! He knew that you had started coming around more frequently since the weather was nice, and you stayed for most of the day. So far you had kept to yourself; you didn't ever bring anyone else aside from the dog.

A few times you had brought another flower and gone into the water, pretending like you were talking to him. Or rather, the little boy he had been. It was confusing. No one had ever mourned Jason aside from his mother, and her sadness had driven her to such a macabre end.

How could you mourn someone you had never known? Jason had no idea, but somewhere along the way he had grown used to your invasions, your...visits. He wasn't lonely, he distrusted people to an obviously unhealthy extent.

But you were kind and good to the dog that bad man had been mean to. He wanted…

He wasn't sure what he wanted. Which had led to him making himself more and more visible in the frail hope that maybe, maybe you were different.

If you weren't, if you made fun of him or tricked him or were actually cruel and bad, well...it would be an easy enough thing to end you.

You didn't seem scared. You let him pet your dog. You talked to him like he was ordinary.

Jason had noticed the lack of intruders this year. Aside from you, he hadn't seen anyone in a while, probably months at this point. He had hoped that it meant his work was finally coming to an end. But no, you were saying things about a virus. The world was sick, and everyone was scared. That was why you had the mask, and he guessed that you assumed he was wearing his for the same reason.

"In case I somehow got infected, you know. I'd hate to pass it along to someone else and get them sick too!" You explained. "Better safe than sorry."

Jason nodded slowly, still not entirely understanding what you meant. Swayze was begging for a belly rub and the large man obliged him, one massive gloved hand tentatively petting the animal's soft stomach. This was the most normal thing he had done in...time was hard for him to keep track of, blurring messily in his head. He settled on ever. How long had it been?

…

You got to your feet, dusting yourself off and grabbing a stick from the ground when you noticed Swayze getting restless. "Ready boy?" You asked, laughing when he hurriedly flopped and flailed upright, barking at you. You drew back your hand and pitched the stick with all your might, sending Swayze off like a shot down the shoreline. "He loves playing fetch," you explained to the man, who just nodded.

He rose as the dog came running back, and you were struck anew by just how large he was. He didn't just tower, he loomed. Swayze dropped the stick at his feet, wagging his whole body and barking happily. The man stared down at the stick for several long seconds, then scooped it up.

"See how far you can chuck it!" You urged, just glad that someone else was here to help give Swayze his exercise.

The man nodded, lazily winding his arm back and sending the stick into orbit. Swayze looked bewildered for a moment, skittering around uncertainly until he caught the sound of the stick hitting the beach about a mile and a half south of your location. Then, he was off again.

You gawked as the stranger rubbed the back of his neck. "Holy shit. Can you come here every day? We could get Swayze back down to a decent weight!" You laughed self-consciously. "I can be a little heavy-handed with the treats, the vet said he was getting too chunky." You sighed after a moment. "I'm probably not the best owner for him, he needs someone with a lot more energy. Like a crossfit trainer." You gave the man a shrug. "But he saved me, so I wanted to return the favor."

The man cocked his head, giving you a quizzical look. You noticed that his eyes were a bit off-center, one placed lower than the other.

"Some guys were harassing me out here and I ended up in the lake. Woke up on the shore with that mutt slobbering all over my face. My slimy hero." You grinned. "And we've been together ever since."

…

After you left for the night (the moon had risen before you departed), Jason indulged in an incredibly rare pastime.

He sat and he thought.

You believed the dog had pulled you out of the water? Jason almost felt insulted for a minute, then his shoulders drooped. Of course, it was better that you didn't remember him wading in after you. He hadn't been very careful at all, more frantic about being in the water than concerned with your comfort.

Plus, he had needed to be quick in order to catch the bad men. No, it was better if you thought the dog did it.

You had mused about how the dog had even managed it, saying that Swayze was fast, but not exactly strong. "He probably thought I was a sheep in trouble or something. Herding instincts kicked in." You had been smiling, Jason could hear it in your voice even if you were wearing a mask.

People had stopped coming when the leaves were still budding, Jason realized. Even though he didn't grasp time well, he had to guess that it had been months. Months since he had killed anyone. Months since he had seen anyone.

Aside from you.

He didn't get lonely, he never had before. Maybe it was boredom. Was he bored? Jason thought back to the murky memories of his childhood. He had never had friends. No one had been able to see past the way he looked.

Were you his friend?

Did he even want a friend?

…

The mystery man showed up a few times after that. Not enough for you to have any sort of routine going, but you grew familiar with his large, here and gone again presence. He always wore his mask and kept his social distance and honestly, you couldn't ask for more than that.

He only emerged from the treeline in the late afternoon, just as the sun was going down. You had almost gotten used to how silent he was, despite his size. Swayze at least gave you a bit of a warning now, the dog quick to bark happily at the individual he associated with playtime and belly rubs.

Through a few one-sided conversations the large man had managed to assure you that no, he wasn't homeless, he had a house (he had drawn a clumsy picture in the dirt with a stick, and then gestured off into the trees). He also never had any interest in the food you offered him, blowing more holes in your admittedly-idealized image of the homeless.

The only thing he ever accepted from you was a small, strawberry-flavored hard candy that had taken up residence in the front pouch of your backpack, and as soon as you got home you immediately ordered more of them online. It was silly, but you were just excited to have discovered something he liked.

You felt a little awkward for assuming that he was homeless just because his clothes were worn and faded. Not everyone wanted to don their North Face parkas or L.L. Bean boots and be a fashion plate every time they went hiking, after all!

It was nice, in an odd way. You would sit and finish up your work for the day while he played fetch with Swayze, doing your best to think up simple yes or no questions that he might be able to answer. He wasn't always keen on engaging with you, which you supposed was understandable. That much interaction for someone who couldn't speak and didn't know sign language was probably exhausting. He must be well-used to the silence.

You wondered how long he had been alone for.

He seemed confused the day that he found you in the water with a handful of wildflowers, and you hesitantly explained your strange tradition to him.

"It's for that little boy, the one who drowned." You said quietly, opening your hands and letting the daisies and black-eyed Susans you had gathered float off. "He...everyone makes up such awful stories and I just get so sad about it. Usually I get a nice flower from the florist, but with everything going on I've been trying to social distance and only go into town for the real essentials, like food and stuff like that." You sighed, straightening back up and looking out at the water. "I hope Jason doesn't mind that this year's flowers are just...ordinary ones."

The man shifted his weight on the shore, leaning over to pet Swayze.

"I know that it's dumb to do this. I know that it's silly of me to care so much." You mumbled. "I've always been like that, though, ready to be a sap at the first chance I get."

A heavy, gloved hand landed on your shoulder and you flinched, startled. The man grunted, pulling his hand away in response and then laying it back on your shoulder even more gingerly than before.

"Sorry, you just surprised me is all." You apologized, a little amused when he timidly patted your shoulder as if to say there, there.

…

You brought him flowers again. Even though you couldn't go to the store because the whole world was sick, you still brought him flowers.

He felt strange. Was he sad? Confused. Frustrated that he couldn't speak, couldn't tell you the flowers were fine, they were perfect, he didn't need special ones.

As long as they came from you, they were special.

Why?

He had yet to find an answer to that particular question.

One of the blossoms floated back up onto the beach, bedraggled and missing petals. All waterlogged and dead, like him. Jason usually tried not to dwell on his existence, it just gave him a headache or made him angry.

You cried so much for being a person who hadn't known him. You must have a soft heart, one that loved easy and could be crushed. Jason had been like you once, fragile and brittle like a bird's bones.

Maybe somewhere deep inside he was still like that. Maybe it was okay to be like that, even for a little while.

He had killed for Mother for so long. Maybe he was just tired. He had never been tired before.

Jason sat down heavily on the shore, gloved hands sifting through the rough gravel beneath him in an absentminded fashion. You eventually came back out of the water and sat down almost next to him. The six feet that you had said you were trying to keep away from other people had shrunk to two, and you hugged your knees and stared out at the water for a long, long time.

"I hope he's okay, you know?" You broke the silence with your soft question. "I hope he's somewhere where he can be with his mom, and he's safe and loved like all kids should be."

Jason couldn't help his little whine of sadness then, jamming his face against his shoulder to muffle the noise. He wanted that too, so badly. To finish his job, to finally be back with his mother.

Safe and loved like all kids should be.

Your hand touched his sleeve and Jason jerked back, raw and wary. "Sorry, sorry! I...are you okay?" You asked softly.

Tired, so tired. Sad. Tired. He shook his head, and you actually got even closer to him, your hand on his arm firmly now.

"I know you can't tell me what's wrong, but I'm here." You said, and Jason did the unthinkable.

He slouched down, resting his masked cheek on the top of your head. Briefly, barely for five seconds. Only long enough to exhale a heavy, rasping sigh.

And he felt peace. For a moment, at any rate.

[concussed-to-pieces]

We're so excited to officially announce the prompts for the first annual @rutherfest event!

This took quite a bit of time and debate, and we wanted to provide ample opportunity for you to flex your creative muscles. As such, each day of our long weekend celebration will have TWO broad themes to choose from (with the exception of Sunday).

Whether one word strikes inspiration, one prompt, or both options per day, we encourage everyone to lean into what speaks to you most.

(divider credits: @sister-lucifer)

Day 1 (Friday, August 29th): Friends, Faith, and Family OR Past, Present, and Future

Cullen carries his burdens with strength, but he hasn't always had to do so alone. Every chapter of his life has shaped him into the man he is today, and we can't wait to see which of these inspires you most.

Day 2 (Saturday, August 30th): Dreams and Devotion OR Demons and Duty

Cullen's journey has not been a linear one, and his perseverance is part of what makes his character so great. Whether these terms refer to the purest intentions or the most double-edged swords, we look forward to seeing what you'll bring to the table.

Day 3 (Sunday, August 31st): Free Day!

You are the masters of this prompt. Show Cullen some love to finish out Rutherfest!

We can't wait to see what you come up with.

Join us the last weekend in August in celebrating our favorite commander!

For more information:

Dates

Rules & Guidelines

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-Razor Crest Elegy

(I started this sketch in November of 2020 and promptly forgot about it, figured I'd clean it up a little for May the Fourth! Works great as a lock screen 💚)

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The Mandalorian Masterlist

Hello all, happy May The Fourth! I figured instead of my usual haphazard reblog spree I would instead just make a Mando masterlist (I will also include my Prospect/Mandalorian crossover pieces because y'know). So here they are! Please enjoy 💚

Trigger Key:

🍆 = Explicit Elements

💧 = Emotional Elements

💢 = Violent Elements (abuse and/or canon-typical violence)

⛔ = Nonconsensual Elements (explicit and/or alluded to)

✔️ = Complete

💚💚💚

Defanged (The Mandalorian [Din Djarin] x female reader) Rated E for sex pollen and smut. Trigger warnings listed inside

🍆💧⛔

💚💚💚

Late For Life Day (The Mandalorian [Din Djarin] x female reader) Rated M for smut. Trigger warnings listed inside

🍆💧 ✔️

💚💚💚

Stay Safe (The Mandalorian [Din Djarin] x female reader) Rated M for canon-typical violence and eventual smut. Trigger warnings listed inside

🍆💧💢 ✔️

Stay Safe Part One

Stay Safe Part Two

Stay Safe Part Three

Stay Safe Part Four

Stay Safe Part Five

Stay Safe Part Six

Stay Safe Part Seven

Stay Safe Part Eight

Stay Safe Part Nine

Stay Safe Interlude

Stay Safe Part Ten

Stay Safe Playlist [contains spoilers for Stay Safe]

💚💚💚

Laugh (The Mandalorian [Din Djarin] x female reader)  Drabble. Rated M for suggestive tones

💧 ✔️ 

💚💚💚

NSFW Alphabet

🍆💧💢 ✔️  

💚💚💚

Of Gorgons And Gardens (The Mandalorian [Din Djarin] x Ezra [Prospect 2018] x female bounty hunter!reader) Rated E for sex pollen, canon-typical violence and trio smut. Trigger warnings listed inside

🍆💧💢⛔ ✔️  

Of Gorgons And Gardens Part One

Of Gorgons And Gardens Part Two

Of Gorgons And Gardens Part Three  

💚💚💚

Headcanons/Drabbles for the Of Gorgons And Gardens trio: 

Close Calls  💧 ✔️

Permission  🍆 💧 ✔️

Stubble 💧 ✔️

💚💚💚

[concussed-to-pieces]

The Mandalorian: Wash Your Hands

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-Beskar Blues

I finally made some fanart for this glorious series. I love one Man(dalorian).

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moodboard for @concussed-to-pieces stay safe atlas is a treasure and i love them and absolutely everything they write

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Business

Fandom: WWE

Pairing: AlphaBiker!Bo Dallas/Unnamed OFC

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: I make no apologies for this, as usual. Another foray into A/B/O territory! Also everyone should go see Marine Five, because out of context this whole biker scene may not make much sense to you. And you will cry laughing like I did if you know anything about paramedics. Tagging Zeta Zone @toxiicpop, Lightning Lariat @oraclegazes, and Continual Compass @hardcorewwetrash! Enjoy!

Keep reading

[concussed-to-pieces]

Bloodhyr; First Timer

Fandom: WWE

Pairing: Vampire!Roman Reigns/Virgin!Female Reader

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: Thirsty Crew, I have found yet another bandwagon to assault with my nonsense! I give you this finely-crafted nightmare to peruse. It’s long, it’s got Atlas-tronomical levels of touchy-feely goodness, and delightful, sharp-toothed shenanigans! Tagging @oraclegazes, @toxiicpop (for their encouragement!) and but of course, our steadfast captain @hardcorewwetrash. Enjoy!

Keep reading

[concussed-to-pieces]

It’s Going To Take A Lot

Fandom: WWE

Pairing: Diesel [Kevin Nash]/OFC

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: This is long. This is very, very long. And an AU. And horribly sappy. Merry Chrismuts, everyone.Tagging @tox-moxley…I would tag more folks but I don’t know who likes Diesel D: maybe I’m just old and pitiful. Enjoy!

[The Thirst Party Saturday entry will be up later tonight, never fear!]

Keep reading

[concussed-to-pieces]

Kitten

Fandom: WWE

Pairing: Jon Moxley[Dean Ambrose]/Unnamed OFC

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: Thirst Party Saturday got me like ENJOY! tagging @tox-ambrose, @hardcorewwetrash and the rest of the Thirst Party Squad!

Keep reading

[concussed-to-pieces]

Happy birthday step-dad! Hope your day goes as planned and you get plenty of cake and ice cream to knock yourself out 😊don't forget to lace your fingers and cross those ankles afterwards when you're just resting your eyes and accidentally catch some 😴😴😴

Thank you, my friend! I have been appropriately lavished with treats 💚 I can't wait to catch that stepdad-core nap though, I know it'll be great 💪💚 have a wonderful day!

[concussed-to-pieces]

👁👄👁 YOU!

I WISH THAT YOUR PHONE IS ALWAYS CHARGED, YOUR FAVOURITE SNACKS ARE ALWAYS IN STOCK, YOU FIND MONEY ON THE STREET, THAT ALL OUTFITS LOOK BOMB ON THE MIRROR ON THE FIRST LOOK, THAT YOUR FOOD TASTES DELICIOUS, THAT YOUR SKIN IS CLEAR, THAT YOU DREAMS ARE ACHIEVED, THAT YOUR BED IS COZY AND THAT YOUR LIFE FLOURISHES WITH ALL THINGS PLEASANT AND GOOD.

-sincerely, a person who read one of your fics and you, YOU😭, managed to get the trope JUST RIGHT. Like, you scratched my brainrot itch. I love you♡

Thank you so much for the well wishes, my Anonymous broski! You're too kind 💚 I'm thrilled you enjoy what I do. I hope your day goes wonderfully! Stay safe 💪💚

[concussed-to-pieces]

Super

Fandom: Guardians Of The Galaxy

Pairing: Peter Quill [Star-Lord]/Female Reader

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: Welcome aboard another Thirst Party Saturday, everyone! I would like to preface this tale with the statement that I haven’t seen Volume Two yet, so I apologize for any inaccuracies that may arise. Due to my lack of knowledge though, I suppose this is probably spoiler-free! This is set at some point after the first film and before the second one. Tagging @toxiicpop, @oraclegazes and of course, @im-an-octopus! Enjoy!

Keep reading

[concussed-to-pieces]

Return At Dawn

Fandom: Fire Emblem: Three Houses

Pairing: Dimitri Blaiddyd/F!Byleth (Dimileth)

Rating: Holy shit M

Word Count: Nervous sweating around 34k

AN: I would like you all to bear witness to this…behemoth.  I have played over two hundred hours of this game, my life is chaos, and the post-timeskip cutscene is the sole reason why I wrote the entire thing. Obviously, spoiler warning for the Blue Lions route. Enjoy!

Keep reading

[concussed-to-pieces]

Late For Life Day

Fandom: The Mandalorian [Star Wars]

Pairing: The Mandalorian [Din Djarin]/Reader

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: Merry holidays, happy Life Day! I hope you like this little gift. Enjoy! (I'm tagging all the folks that I tagged for Stay Safe, if I missed you I apologize!)

Tag List: @wrestlingfae @spoopyredacted @toxiicpop @renegademustelid @helplessly-nonstop @sporadic-fics @culturalrebel @sinnamon-bunn @literal-fand0m-trash @hoodedbirdie @fioccodineveautunnale @kateb013 @hxldmxdxwn @lizajane3 @thewaythisis @nelleedraws @oh-no-who-am-i @crownofmanga @talesfromtheguild @pascaliprincess @kylolover96 @7to3sorcerer @lackofhonor @lightan117 @misssilencewritewell @theorderoffallenstars @fan-g0rl

Life Day, huh?

Din grumbled, bringing his fist down on the panel in front of him. The cycle display jittered uneasily, but the date remained the same. The Mandalorian groaned, settling back into his pilot chair. A comlink sat in pieces on the control panel, still smoking from his clumsy attempts at resoldering it. He had never been particularly good at this. Hell, getting his breastplate to reattach to the gription harness had always been a trial, and this was far more intricate work.

"Don't know why I care so much now," he huffed at the ceiling. "A few cycles ago I wouldn't have thought twice about working through this." He then raised his voice, as if to address the frozen quarry in the hold. "It's your damn fault for running, bail jumper!"

As much as he hated to admit it, things were looking like he would miss the celebration. You would be worried. Worried and disappointed.

Trying to avoid that thought, Din held one of the small trinkets he had acquired up to the dim light from the viewport, turning it this way and that. Some of the Nevarran obsidian was chipped at the edges, but the majority of the surface was still a smooth, glossy black. They were simple ornaments, just silly little shapes that some artist had coaxed from the salvaged dark glass. Things for a Life Day altar or tree, like many family units across the galaxy had.

The celebration of Life Day had started on Kashyyyk, but in recent years it seemed to have slowly spread to other cultures while the chokehold of the Empire had loosened. He supposed they had the Republic to thank for the ability to freely partake in traditions, old and new alike.

This is The Way.

His throat tightened. Din carefully wrapped the baubles up once more, reorganizing them in his battered satchel.

Better late than dead, right?

Hopefully you would think the same.

…

"This is the worst." You muttered grimly, poking at the now beyond-dry remains of the ormachek you had attempted to stew for the evening meal.

The child looked up at you in confusion, their ears twitching as they continued to nibble on some of the pickled mudjumper that Omera had sent for Life Day. The kind woman from Sorgan made certain the child was well-fed, if nothing else, and it was nice to get periodic updates regarding the spotcha-brewing settlement.

"Sorry kiddo, I'm just not up to par with your dad’s cooking yet. How about some gelfruit bars? I was saving them for later, but…" you trailed off, swallowing hard. "I...I mean we can break them out now, why not? Special occasion. Your first Life Day with--er, with me."

Mando's absence was like a silent shadow in the room that no amount of forced holiday cheer could keep at bay. You just hoped that the child didn't pick up on your worry. Din was two days late now. You hadn't been able to raise him on his comlink and the festivities had begun winding down yesterday. You had barely seen anyone in the streets today, the local population clearly tucking in early after their rowdy or solemn celebrations. Food vendors were still operating, of course, but with the prices heightened for the added demand, the best 'treats' you had been able to get ahold of were that cut of ormachek and a handful of gelfruit bars.

Now, unfortunately, the night was shaping up to be strictly gelfruit and the cookies you had made with the child. You had hoped to save the sweet treats to enjoy when Din arrived, but it seemed he might not be coming.

Not tonight, anyway.

You bit down into a tasteless chunk, then chewed for a good five minutes while the child watched in mute fascination. Finally admitting defeat, you swallowed the jerky-like substance with the aid of the spiced beverage you had made for the meal. "Alright!" You exclaimed brightly once you'd finished shuddering, "We've got the cookies we baked earlier, and the gelfruit bars. Which ones should we eat first?"

The child immediately reached for the cookies that they had helped with and you couldn't help a smile, handing one over. They were simple and sweet, little cutouts of stars or trees just like they would have been on Kashyyyk.

Later on, the two of you would snuggle up together on the lone cushion and enjoy some more of the warm beverage you had prepared, the familiar spices stirring fond memories in you. After that, there was the yearly rerun of the very first 'galactic wide' Life Day broadcast, when the then-princess Leia had performed for the Wookies during their celebration. You were mainly just pleased you were even able to catch the (admittedly grainy) feed, since your old holocaster had a few quirks that made operation interesting.

...

Din hesitated in the doorway of the tiny, pod-like abode. His cape and cowl were heavy with wet snow after his trek from the hangar, and he knew you would have very little patience for him after he had returned so late. The Mandalorian diligently began removing his soaked garments as best as he could, his cold-numbed fingers making the task a bit more tedious than it needed to be.

A crackling broadcast echoed tinnily from the common area, bringing the sound of a vaguely-familiar melody.

"We celebrate a day of peace, a day of harmony…a day of joy we can all share, together joyously…"

Djarin paused, setting his satchel full of trinkets carefully aside before he moved to unstrap his greaves. Karga had made certain to include a few more delights for the child, the grizzled man pointedly bringing up the fact that Din was working instead of spending the holiday with his family.

His family. A clan, yes, a clan, but a family. Din's stomach pitched nervously even now as he thought of Greef saying that. His family.

He ought to have gotten past this already. After everything else, everything else, this was nothing.

And yet...and yet it was everything. The most important things in his world were waiting for him in the room down the hall, but Din couldn't bring himself to face either you or the kid just yet. He needed to take a minute, needed to rationalize this.

His job was difficult. Demanding. There was no guarantee of his presence on holidays, on any day really. The danger alone would make any sane person balk, but you never had. It was always a drowsy, "stay safe" as he left the bunk at whatever too-early hour during the cycle, your fingers tracing the sign like a protective ward on his breastplate.

His family. The thing to come back to, the warmth and comfort that he had slowly, tentatively grown to trust. Stay safe.

“...a day that brings the promise, that one day, we'll be free…to live, to laugh, to dream…to grow, to trust, to love...to be.”

The song appeared to be drawing to a close, and Din felt like his contemplation was also coming to an end. He could slouch in the tiny, cramped entryway until the next Life Day, but it wouldn't do him any good. There were still a few minutes left before the holiday was technically over, and both you and the kid deserved an apology.

He would have to be blunt, he reasoned with himself, about the possibility that he might not be around for certain dates or times. He shouldn't have promised that he would be present in the first place. It had been a rare moment of weakness, a snap decision fueled by childish excitement as he thought of spending Life Day with his clan. He couldn't be so flippant about giving his word in the future, it wasn't fair to get the kid's hopes up.

Speaking of the kid…

A very familiar set of ears pricked up when Din peered around the doorframe, the child making a curious noise from the shelter of their blanket fort. You were sound asleep, and the holiday broadcast was continuing to rattle on in the background.

Din crept forward stealthily, scooping the kid up and rocking him back and forth in silence. The little one clung to him, then yawned wide as if to admit defeat. "C'mon kid, it's bedtime." Djarin murmured, smiling beneath his helmet.

The lack of struggle only drove home the point that the child was clearly exhausted. Add that to the fact that you hadn't so much as shifted your weight when Din arrived, and he was starting to think that both the kid and you had been waiting up for him.

Guilt laid thick in his throat and the bounty hunter mutely vowed to be more conscientious in the future, instead of expecting you to just work around his at-will employment.

His family.

…

A kiss brushed against your mouth and you hummed, your hands on habit rising to bury in Din's curls. "You're late," you mumbled into his chin.

A sigh gusted across your neck. "I know. I'm sorry."

"We stayed awake as long as we could for you." You could feel his lips curve into a smile when you continued, "the kid said we should save you a piece of the gelfruit, but that may have been a ploy so he could steal it later."

"You guys had gelfruit bars? That's it?"

"Well, no." You admitted, finally opening your eyes. All you could see was the bounty hunter's rough silhouette, aided by the wan light from the holocaster. "I tried to stew some ormachek. That didn't turn out too appetizing though, so we had to fall back on our emergency supplies of cookies and gelfruit bars."

Djarin chuckled and you could halfway see him shaking his head at you. Then, there was the crinkle of a wrapper and something that smelled incredible was being gently pressed to your lips. "Eat."

"What is-" you began to ask, but then stopped. Whatever it was, it was flaky, buttery, just the right texture, just the right amount of spices. "Maker, that's delicious." You mumbled through your mouthful.

"Karga sends his Life Day greetings." Din informed you wryly. "He hopes you and the kid are well. Was very nosy about me working through the holiday, like he wasn't the one who gave me the damn job in the first place."

"I'm glad you're safe." You said once you swallowed, your voice quieter than usual. Djarin groaned, gathering you into a hug. The bare skin you could feel was cold to the touch, as if he had only just come in from the elements. You did your best to maneuver the blanket up over his shoulders, working behind his back to wrap the both of you up.

"Thanks." The bounty hunter remarked after several moments of comfortable silence. "It's still snowing out, I was soaked by the time I got here."

"Poor thing." You murmured, not missing the way his hands had fisted greedily in your tunic. "Did you put the little one in his bassinet?"

"Yeah, he was half-asleep already. Went without a fuss." Din's hands shifted to your breasts, the Mandalorian moving in slow, lazy circles. "I've got a few more things in my bag for him. Some from Karga, too. I swear, Greef wants to buy my loyalty."

"Wouldn't be the first time." You needled, sighing as Din stroked you through your tunic. "Do you want to…?"

In a strange moment of awareness the man rasped, "my hands are still cold."

"Your everything is cold."

"Yes, but my hands are what I'm touching you with." He shot back, playfully nudging his frigid nose into the hollow of your throat. "Last thing I want is to give you a shock."

You slid a hand down his chest, gently groping him through his flight suit. Like him, though, you kept your motions loose and lazy. Right now, there was no rush. It was just the two of you, cozy and content while the last sands of Life Day ran out.

Din's breath caught, like he hadn't been expecting you to touch him. "O-Oh, you don't-"

"I'm going to." You weren't sure if he could see you smiling in the shadows, but you did all the same. "I'll help you warm up a little."

The Mandalorian grunted, letting you unzip his suit so he could shrug it off of his shoulders. The undershirt came next, clinging briefly to his skin before you were able to strip it over his head. "I'll be here for the next Life Day." He promised abruptly. "I...I don't want to miss anything else with you. You or the kid."

"We don't want to miss anything with you either." You replied, clasping his hands in your own to try and warm them up. Din wedged himself in between your legs, growling wordlessly into your mouth as he pressed your back against the cushion with the weight of his body. "I love you, Din." You gasped.

"I know." He breathed, smiling briefly while he cupped your cheek. "Thank you." Seeming to believe he had reached an acceptable temperature, the Mandalorian shoved your sleeping tunic up to your stomach and then impatiently tugged your underwear down. "This is all I've been able to think about since I left." Djarin confessed in a low tone, like he was a little ashamed. "G-Getting back to you, I mean, not uh--"

"I understood what you meant." You assured, interrupting him before he could spend the next cycle explaining himself. "I've missed you too."

…

It wasn't a surprising thing for you to say. You made it abundantly clear with or without your words, with or without the Basic or Mando'a or the gestures. You missed him. You loved him.

You missed him. You loved him.

Din was unsure if he would ever get used to that. Truthfully, he hoped he didn't. It would keep him grateful, keep him grounded.

Keep him returning to you with the hope of hearing it again.

"I…" He stammered, his voice faltering. His words always seemed to fall short when he was with you, and so as usual, the Mandalorian found himself leaving them behind in the favor of showing you what he meant instead.

I love you.

He couldn't get enough of having you like this. Spread out beneath him, sobbing his name into his ear as he slowly worked you open with his fingers. You arched and whimpered and Maker, it took everything in him to be gentle, to be careful.

I love you.

The stress and worry bled out of Din as he settled between your thighs, his forehead meeting yours when he gingerly pressed into you. You were always so eager though, so welcoming and warm and everything he had never known he was looking for.

"I love you." He managed to pant, nosing pitifully against your cheek for a moment. "I-I'm sorry I couldn't...be here for it."

Your hold on him loosened momentarily, then, "I know," and you cradled his face in your palms. "But it's still Life Day."

What?

The man paused, staring down at you in confusion. You, in turn, smiled mistily up at him. "It's still Life Day to me, because you're here safe. You didn't miss it."

It was not a perfect Life Day. He had entirely missed it, your platitudes notwithstanding, and all he had to show for it was a few extra credits and some fragile shine for the display whenever the next date rolled around. He would miss other Life Days, he was certain. Other important dates, important events.

"As long as you come back to me, it doesn't matter how late you are." You assured him, your expression guileless.

Din couldn't help but believe you, and he agreed wholeheartedly. "Even if I'm halfway across the galaxy, I'll come back to you." He pressed his forehead to yours once more, like he still had his helmet on. "This is The Way."

"This is The Way."

All in all, Din mused grudgingly before he fell asleep beside you later that night, it could have been a much worse Life Day.

[concussed-to-pieces]

SO HERE IS THE WHOLE STORY (SO FAR).

I am on my knees begging you to reblog this post and to stop reblogging the original ones I sent out yesterday. This is the complete account with all the most recent info; the other one is just sending people down senselessly panicked avenues that no longer lead anywhere.

IN SHORT

Cliff Weitzman, CEO of Speechify and (aspiring?) voice actor, used AI to scrape thousands of popular, finished works off AO3 to list them on his own for-profit website and in his attached app. He did this without getting any kind of permission from the authors of said work or informing AO3. Obviously.

When fandom at large was made aware of his theft and started pushing back, Weitzman issued a non-apology on the original social media posts—using 

his dyslexia; 

his intent to implement a tip-system for the plagiarized authors; and 

a sudden willingness to take down the work of every author who saw my original social media posts and emailed him individually with a ‘valid’ claim,

as reasons we should allow him to continue monetizing fanwork for his own financial gain.

When we less-than-kindly refused, he took down his ‘apologies’ as well as his website (allegedly—it’s possible that our complaints to his web host, the deluge of emails he received or the unanticipated traffic brought it down, since there wasn’t any sort of official statement made about it), and when it came back up several hours later, all of the work formerly listed in the fan fiction category was no longer there. 

THE TAKEAWAYS

1. Cliff Weitzman (aka Ofek Weitzman) is a scumbag with no qualms about taking fanwork without permission, feeding it to AI and monetizing it for his own financial gain; 

2. Fandom can really get things done when it wants to, and 

3. Our fanworks appear to be hidden, but they’re NOT DELETED from Weitzman’s servers, and independently published, original works are still listed without the authors' permission. We need to hold this man responsible for his theft, keep an eye on both his current and future endeavors, and take action immediately when he crosses the line again. 

THE TIMELINE, THE DETAILS, THE SCREENSHOTS (behind the cut)

Sunday night, December 22nd 2024, I noticed an influx in visitors to my fic You & Me & Holiday Wine. When I searched the title online, hoping to find out where they came from, a new listing popped up (third one down, no less):

This listing is still up today, by the way, though now when you follow the link to word-stream, it just brings you to the main site. (Also, to be clear, this was not the cause for the influx of traffic to my fic; word-stream did not link back to the original work anywhere.)

I followed the link to word-stream, where to my horror Y&M&HW was listed in its entirety—though, beyond the first half of the first chapter, behind a paywall—along with a link promising to take me—through an app downloadable on the Apple Store—to an AI-narrated audiobook version. When I searched word-stream itself for my ao3 handle I found both of my multi-chapter fics were listed this way:

Because the tags on my fics (which included genres* and characters, but never the original IPs**) weren’t working, I put ‘Kara Danvers’ into the search bar and discovered that many more supercorp fics (Supergirl TV fandom, Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor pairing) were listed.

I went looking online for any mention of word-stream and AI plagiarism (the covers—as well as the ridiculously inflated number of reviews and ratings—made it immediately obvious that AI fuckery was involved), but found almost nothing: only one single Reddit post had been made, and it received (at that time) only a handful of upvotes and no advice. 

I decided to make a tumblr post to bring the supercorp fandom up to speed about the theft. I draw as well as write for fandom and I’ve only ever had to deal with art theft—which has a clear set of steps to take depending on where said art was reposted—and I was at a loss regarding where to start in this situation.

After my post went up I remembered Project Copy Knight, which is worth commending for the work they’ve done to get fic stolen from AO3 taken down from monetized AI 'audiobook’ YouTube accounts. I reached out to @echoekhi, asking if they’d heard of this site and whether they could advise me on how to get our works taken down.

While waiting for a reply I looked into Copy Knight’s methods and decided to contact OTW’s legal department:

And then I went to bed.

By morning, tumblr friends @makicarn and @fazedlight as well as a very helpful tumblr anon had seen my post and done some very productive sleuthing:

@echoekhi had also gotten back to me, advising me, as expected, to contact the OTW. So I decided to sit tight until I got a response from them.

That response came only an hour or so later: 

Which was 100% understandable, but still disappointing—I doubted a handful of individual takedown requests would accomplish much, and I wasn’t eager to share my given name and personal information with Cliff Weitzman himself, which is unavoidable if you want to file a DMCA.

I decided to take it to Reddit, hoping it would gain traction in the wider fanfic community, considering so many fandoms were affected. My Reddit posts (with the updates at the bottom as they were emerging) can be found here and here.

A helpful Reddit user posted a guide on how users could go about filing a DMCA against word-stream here (to wobbly-at-best results)

A different helpful Reddit user signed up to access insight into word-streams pricing. Comment is here.

Smells unbelievably scammy, right? In addition to those audacious prices—though in all fairness any amount of money would be audacious considering every work listed is accessible elsewhere for free—my dyscalculia is screaming silently at the sight of that completely unnecessary amount of intentionally obscured numbers.

Speaking of which! As soon as the post on r/AO3—and, as a result, my original tumblr post—began taking off properly, sometime around 1 pm, jumpscare! A notification that a tumblr account named @cliffweitzman had commented on my post, and I got a bit mad about the gist of his message :

Fortunately he caught plenty of flack in the comments from other users (truly you should check out the comment section, it is extremely gratifying and people are making tremendously good points), in response to which, of course, he first tried to both reiterate and renegotiate his point in a second, longer comment (which I didn’t screenshot in time so I’m sorry for the crappy notification email formatting):

which he then proceeded to also post to Reddit (this is another Reddit user’s screenshot, I didn’t see it at all, the notifications were moving too fast for me to follow by then)

... where he got a roughly equal amount of righteously furious replies. (Check downthread, they're still there, all the way at the bottom.)

After which Cliff went ahead & deleted his messages altogether. 

It’s not entirely clear whether his account was suspended by Reddit soon after or whether he deleted it himself, but considering his tumblr account is still intact, I assume it’s the former. He made a handful of sock puppet accounts to play around with for a while, both on Reddit and Tumblr, only one of which I have a screenshot of, but since they all say roughly the same thing, you’re not missing much:

And then word-stream started throwing a DNS error.

That lasted for a good number of hours, which was unfortunately right around the time that a lot of authors first heard about the situation and started asking me individually how to find out whether their work was stolen too. I do not have that information and I am unclear on the perimeters Weitzman set for his AI scraper, so this is all conjecture: it LOOKS like the fics that were lifted had three things in common:

They were completed works;

They had over several thousand kudos on AO3; and

They were written by authors who had actively posted or updated work over the past year.

If anyone knows more about these perimeters or has info that counters my observation, please let me know!

I finally thought to check/alert evil Twitter during this time, and found out that the news was doing the rounds there already. I made a quick thread summarizing everything that had happened just in case. You can find it here.

I went to Bluesky too, where fandom was doing all the heavy lifting for me already, so I just reskeeted, as you do, and carried on.

Sometime in the very early evening, word-stream went back up—but the fan fiction category was nowhere to be seen. Tentative joy and celebration!***

That’s when several users—the ones who had signed up for accounts to gain intel and had accessed their own fics that way—reported that their work could still be accessed through their history. Relevant Reddit post here.

Sooo—

We’re obviously not done. The fanwork that was stolen by Weitzman may be inaccessible through his website right now, but they aren’t actually gone. And the fact that Weitzman wasn’t willing to get rid of them altogether means he still has plans for them. 

This was my final edit on my Reddit post before turning off notifications, and it's pretty much where my head will be at for at least the foreseeable future:

Please feel free to add info in the comments, make your own posts, take whatever action you want to take to protect your work. I only beg you—seriously, I’m on my knees here—to not give up like I saw a handful of people express the urge to do. Keep sharing your creative work and remain vigilant and stay active to make sure we can continue to do so freely. Visit your favorite fics, and the ones you’ve kept in your ‘marked for later’ lists but never made time to read, and leave kudos, leave comments, support your fandom creatives, celebrate podficcers and support AO3. We created this place and it’s our responsibility to keep it alive and thriving for as long as we possibly can.

Also FUCK generative AI. It has NO place in fandom spaces.

THE 'SMALL' PRINT (some of it in all caps):

*Weitzman knew what he was doing and can NOT claim ignorance. One, it’s pretty basic kindergarten stuff that you don’t steal some other kid’s art project and present it as your own only to act surprised when they protest and then tell the victim that they should have told you sooner that they didn’t want their project stolen. And two, he was very careful never to list the IPs these fanworks were based on, so it’s clear he was at least familiar enough with the legalities to not get himself in hot water with corporate lawyers. Fucking over fans, though, he figured he could get away with that. 

**A note about the AI that Weitzman used to steal our work: it’s even greasier than it looks at first glance. It’s not just the method he used to lift works off AO3 and then regurgitate onto his own website and app. Looking beyond the untold horrors of his AI-generated cover ‘art’, in many cases these covers attempt to depict something from the fics in question that can’t be gleaned from their summaries alone. In addition, my fics (and I assume the others, as well) were listed with generated genres; tags that did not appear anywhere in or on my fic on AO3 and were sometimes scarily accurate and sometimes way off the mark. I remember You & Me & Holiday Wine had ‘found family’ (100% correct, but not tagged by me as such) and I believe The Shape of Soup was listed as, among others, ‘enemies to friends to lovers’ and ‘love triangle’ (both wildly inaccurate). Even worse, not all the fic listed (as authors on Reddit pointed out) came with their original summaries at all. Often the entire summary was AI-generated. All of these things make it very clear that it was an all-encompassing scrape—not only were our fics stolen, they were also fed word-for-word into the AI Weitzman used and then analyzed to suit Weitzman’s needs. This means our work was literally fed to this AI to basically do with whatever its other users want, including (one assumes) text generation. 

***Fan fiction appears to have been made (largely) inaccessible on word-stream at this time, but I’m hearing from several authors that their original, independently published work, which is listed at places like Kindle Unlimited, DOES still appear in word-stream’s search engine. This obviously hurts writers, especially independent ones, who depend on these works for income and, as a rule, don’t have a huge budget or a legal team with oceans of time to fight these battles for them. If you consider yourself an author in the broader sense, beyond merely existing online as a fandom author, beyond concerns that your own work is immediately at risk, DO NOT STOP MAKING NOISE ABOUT THIS.

Again, please, please PLEASE reblog this post instead of the one I sent originally. All the information is here, and it's driving me nuts to see the old ones are still passed around, sending people on wild goose chases.

Thank you all so much.