Hello, I’m Crab and I write things. Sometimes I make gifs for my own use. Many of the fics I write are ‘reader insert’, so here’s what you can expect from that.
If you see me reply with @crossmaddsheart that’s my main profile.
Currently writing for: Star Wars/The Clone Wars/the Bad Batch and Arcane: League of Legends
If you want to see something specific, feel free to send a request or message me.
The Bad Batch
Hunter x Reader
Dust in the Wind Master Post (Complete) (GN)
One Shots
Heavy How I Want You so Bad (Suggestive) (GN)
Crosshair x Reader
What's Coming to Me (Sniper vs Sniper) Master Post (Complete) (GN)
Echo x Reader
One Shots
Of Myth and Legend (Fluff) (GN)
Wrecker x Reader
One Shots
Media Engagements (Fluff) (GN)
The Clone Wars
Echo & Fives Post Order 66 Reunited
As the Dominoes Fall (Fluff) (GN Reader)
Arcane: League of Legends
Silco x Reader
Of Rats and Men (in progress) (F)
Lost and Found Master Post (Completed - Adding Extras) (GN)
Summary: This is an attempt to novelize the game MOTHER 3, a coming of age story featuring a boy named Lucas. With a group of unlikely friends made along the journey, Lucas and company set out to stop the villain Porky and his most trusted underling, the Masked Man, from starting the next apocalypse via pulling the seven Needles that control the sleeping dragon underneath Nowhere Islands. Whoever pulls the most Needles has access to the dragon’s incredible power to reshape the world.
This fic will include dialog, images, music, and more from the game. I will include as much of the amazing details from the game as I possibly can.
Hello, all. This is a project I'm working on and it will go through multiple phases. Certainly not something I've done before. It's a novelization of the game MOTHER 3. I hope you enjoy the ride!
The story you are about to experience will be told in a style you may not be used to nor that comfortable with. I assure you, it’s a story worth listening to, full of adventure, love, self discovery, betrayal, and redemption. It’s a story I hold close to my own heart.
This story comes from a video game titled MOTHER 3 and was only released in Japan on the Game Boy Advance in 2006. There are unofficial English translations of the game, but it still isn’t as accessible to the masses.
I, your narrator, will attempt to transpose MOTHER 3 into something of a novelization while holding onto the quirks and details of the game that I can. I have no affiliation with the writer, Shigesato Itoi, the director, Nobuyuki Inoue, the developers, Brownie Brown and HAL Laboratory, or the publisher, Nintendo. I am merely a fan who wishes to share a small bit of the creative genius that is MOTHER 3.
Sometimes the story will feel like just that, a story. Other times, it will feel as though I am guiding you on your own adventure that you experience through the lens of the characters you will come to know soon enough. The fourth wall is more of a curtain, as the game itself talks directly to the player and I will talk directly to you. It may be awkward occasionally but life often is.
MOTHER 3 is the third installment of the MOTHER series; the second, MOTHER 2, is known as EARTHBOUND outside of Japan. The first two games are related to MOTHER 3 but are not majorly consequential story-wise. They pull from the same universe but are set at different times. When necessary, I will offer the context needed to experience MOTHER 3 in its entirety.
Thank you for being here and I hope you enjoy the story.
MOTHER 3 starts off by asking a few questions of the player. Since that becomes trickier in this medium, I will be using the given names and other default options. Except for the names of the characters in the story, these player inputs will be underlined:
Lucas – The younger twin brother. A gentle boy.
Claus – The older twin brother. An energetic boy.
Flint – The strong, kind, and dependable father.
Hinawa – The beloved mother!
Boney – The brave and smart dog.
What’s your favorite homemade food? – Donuts
What’s your favorite thing? – Love
Is this okay?
>Yes No
Tazmily Village was an isolated, self-sustaining community on Nowhere Islands. The villagers enjoyed living in their own slice of bliss with the village a mere stone’s throw away from the coast. The sandy beaches were a serene place to relax as the waves oscillated on the bank and the sun was never too much. Heading inland, modest houses built by the community’s hands stand comfortably, neither too extravagant nor poorly built. Each home is full of stories and love, the past generations’ lives etched into each plank of wood.
The residents of the village knew everything about each other, as there was nothing to hide nor any way to hide whatever could be hidden. No one would ever covet anything that wasn’t theirs, as all they had to do was ask. If you needed food, you could stop by the Yado Inn for lunch. If your couch broke, a visit to Flint would have the problem rectified in a matter of time. If you needed eggs, they were yours for the taking at Thomas’ Bazaar. The concept of commerce wasn’t prevalent in Tazmily Village, as everyone was accounted for and no one took more than they needed. Greed was a foreign concept in this community.
This story starts beyond the Sunshine Forest, in the mountains north of the village. The path leading up to this space was a winding but pleasant hike. Once the path unfolded through the trees, a two story cabin could be seen.
Our main character, who we will see grow throughout the story, is a little boy named Lucas. Lucas was asleep peacefully in one of the beds upstairs, blonde hair askew. A tiny bit a drool fell from his slightly opened mouth. It was a peaceful morning, the sun shining through the window and the sounds of the forest muted just enough to allow the growing boy to sleep in.
Loud knocking followed by a voice came from downstairs. “Lucas!! How long’re you gonna sleep?! Get up so we can play!” Claus, Lucas’ more active twin brother continued. “Get up already! The Dragos brought their babies over!” The redheaded twin grew more impatient with his sleepy brother, halfway out the door of the cabin before yelling once more. “They’re really cute!! Hurry up!”
Lucas stumbled out of bed and rubbed his sleepy eyes. His blue and white striped pajamas were a tiny bit too big for the boy and the hem of the pants dragged along the wooden floor. He slowly made his way downstairs to see his mother, Hinawa, sitting alone at the table alone, writing a letter. When she heard encroaching footsteps and creaks from the steps, she turned to see her drowsy son who had yet to get ready for the day. Hinawa couldn’t help but give a loving smile when Lucas’ classic bedhead paired with a tired yawn came into view. It was moments like this she cherished the most.
“Good morning, Mr. Sleepyhead Lucas. Claus has been up for a while, playing with the Dragos.”
The blonde child blinked slowly, allowing the information to seep into his tired mind. He watched as his mother returned to the paper on the table and was led by stumbling feet to the door, ready to join his brother in today’s adventure.
“Are you planning to play in your pajamas?” Hinawa asked. Not waiting for an answer, she continued, “Scoot upstairs and change your clothes.”
Lucas turned and, not minding the state of his appearance or the decorum of changing his attire into appropriate garb, shook his head in defiance.
“Then you can stay inside, in your pajamas, for the rest of your life.” His mother tried to keep the smile off her face, but it appeared anyway. She loved both of her sons equally, but Lucas was, by far, the baby. If possible, Hinawa would keep Lucas as a child forever, giving him all the love he deserved. She was happy Lucas had his brother, Claus, to look after him. The two were a perfect balance.
It’s at this point, dear Reader, that one wonders if everything could have been avoided had Lucas decided to stay inside in his pajamas. This inconsequential decision would alter the lives of Lucas, Hinawa, Claus, and the villagers of Tazmily Village, forever with no hope of turning back. A child stumbling thoughtlessly through a sliding glass door moment and the trajectory of his life veering off course.
It’s also possible the upcoming events were inevitable, regardless if Lucas changed out of his pajamas. Destiny, some might say.
We may never know.
Resigned, Lucas stumbled up stairs. He couldn’t resist his mother for long and Claus was waiting for him. His brother couldn’t have all the fun with the Dragos! His red and yellow striped shirt fit loosely over his chest and his worn down shorts had fringes on the edges. Lucas tied his shoes on tightly and styled his hair as best as he could. The boy wanted to be like his cooler brother, so he parted it exactly like Claus did. It wouldn’t occur to him until much later that his hair only mirrored the style of his brother’s and flicked upwards in the opposite direction. It emphasized their inverse personalities.
Lucas walked through the front door of the cabin, feeling the warm, summer air embrace him. The sun was shining and the grass waved in the gentle breeze.
“Oh, you’re up, sleepyhead.” Alec, the boys’ grandfather, greeted Lucas. His white, scruffy beard and thick rimmed glasses covered most of his face, but it was easy to read his happiness from his teasing tone. “Well, today’s the day you head back home. I’m gonna miss you guys.” Alec sighed and looked up at his home, thinking how quiet it will be once the three of them are gone and just how loud that silence is.
Lucas didn’t think much of going back home to Tazmily Village. He had his whole life ahead of him, after all, he was still a kid. The blonde boy was happy to see his father and dog again but he was sure he would return back to the cabin before long. He merely nodded at his grandfather and smiled a crooked smile, taking off to check on the animals.
This is another moment we must pause the story, dear Reader, as we have to discuss the animals of Nowhere Islands. If you ask anyone on what you might call “earth” if animals can talk, they would look at you crazy and say “of course not.” However, this is untrue. Every animal has a story to tell if you know how to listen. This might seem like a fascinating discovery, but it’s not as wondrous as it appears. Very few animals have useful things to say, as they do not experience the world as we do. We will still listen to what they say, though, as you never know when you will need the advice of a frog or directions from a chicken.
Lucas put a gentle hand on the cow next to the house. “Moo.” Translation: (All cows, no matter what they’re thinking, go, “Moo.” It’d be handy to remember that.)
As you can see, not the most useful of information, but we can hold onto that bit of advice for now. If you’re still unconvinced, we can listen to a few others.
Two pigs stood next to each other in their pin, greeting Lucas as he walked by. “Oink oink.” Translation: (What the pig next to me says worries me…)
In response, the other pig oinks. Translation: (Don’t worry about it.)
I rest my case.
Lucas continued on, making his way to his brother. In the clearing, the red headed boy stood at the ready in front of a very large looking dinosaur creature, with two others off to the side. These were the Dragos, while scary and tough looking, they were gentle creatures and enjoyed playing with the twins. The largest of the three Dragos was relaxing and observing the others with a lazy eye. The smallest Drago stood excitedly by his mother, waiting for his turn to play with the boy.
Claus, who hadn’t seen Lucas enter the clearing, ran at the second largest Drago, shoving her down. After a beat, in a dramatic fashion, the Drago fell to the ground, having lost the battle to the small child. Once she spotted Lucas, she stood back up.
Claus huffed and gasped, tired from having played with the Dragos for a while. “Whew, I’m beat. I’ve been play fighting with the Dragos all morning. You should play too, Lucas. Here, try ramming into a Drago.”
If it wasn’t apparent, dear Reader, this is a tutorial moment, where the player learns how to dash. Since dashing is not something you will have to know how to do to continue this story, I will give you a summary and the dialog.
As Lucas prepares himself to run at the mama Drago, the boys are interrupted by Alec.
“Claus! Lucas still doesn’t know how to ram into things yet,” Alec yells before meandering into the clearing. “Lucas! Try to imagine a thing called a B Button! And then hold that B Button for a second, then let go. Doing this will let you “dash”. And by using this “dash” ability, you can ram into that Drago there! Claus! Show him an example!”
Lucas steps out of the way for his brother. Claus backs up, I suppose he holds the B Button for a second, then let’s go, ramming into the Drago from before. The Drago falls over a second later.
“Yes! Just like that! Now it’s your turn, Lucas! Give it a try!”
Well, dear Reader, I guess we shall try to imagine this B Button, hold it, and let it go so Lucas can ram into the Drago. What is there to lose?
“You’ll never succeed with such a sullen look on your face. That holds true for anything. Just relax!”
I feel we could do without the snarky commentary, grandpa.
Lucas does the same as his brother, dashing into the Drago. The Drago falls over the same as before, in a dramatic fashion.
“The harder you run into them, the more the Dragos like it,” Claus mentions with a smile on his face. With the amount of practice he’s had with the Dragos, the red headed brother would know best.
Luckily, dear Reader, that is the end of the tutorial and—
“Move it! Outta the way! Make way for the great Mole Cricket!”
*sigh* Of course, the Mole Cricket is here to prove his strength and showcase the battle tutorial. Excuse the delay, dear Reader, it’s best to allow the Mole Cricket to complete his mission. Much more annoying otherwise.
The boys step out of the way as the Mole Cricket runs up towards the mama Drago. Scared by the yelling and the sudden movement, the baby Drago hops behind his mother. The papa Drago continues to observe, nonchalant in his resting. The mama Drago responds to her baby’s distress by entering a combat stance and growling, while the baby roars adorably.
“I can’t just sit idly by when I hear someone’s play-fighting! I’m gonna wipe the floor with all of you! Get in my way and you’re in for a world of pain!”
You encountered the Mole Cricket!
The battle system in MOTHER 3, is similar to other Game Boy Advance games, a turn based system where order depends on the speed of the character and the enemies. For each battle, you have the option to Bash, use your Goods, Guard, or attempt to Run. Experience Points (EP) and items are given at the end of the battle.
Something that sets MOTHER 3 apart is that during attacks, you can continue combos by pressing the Attack Button on the beat of the background music playing. Background music changes depending on the enemy and gets harder as the game continues. Each character also has a distinctive instrument that plays as the player hits the beat correctly.
Another unique feature is that damage is not taken all at once. Health Points (HP) show as a number and starts to run down after the attack lands. This means that if a character takes fatal damage, there is still time to heal them if the turns play out fast enough. Guarding slows down the HP counter as it continues to take the attack.
It does not take many attacks to take down the Mole Cricket.
“I see you have more of a spine than I thought. If you’d like, I could train you personally sometime. Next time we meet, it’ll be at the big Mole Cricket Hole Stadium! I look forward to seein’ you there! …Bro.”
The mole cricket scurries off, only to take more damage before disappearing from sight. Hinawa, with a concerned look on her face, approaches the group.
“I stepped on a mole cricket. I hope it’s all right… Lunch is ready, everyone. I made your favorite, boys. Donuts!”
“Ooh! Lunch, lunch! Donuts!!” Claus yells before taking off with his brother in tow towards the house.
“You too, Dad.” Hinawa turns with a smile on her face, heading back towards the house.
Alec stays behind, lingering in the clearing. “Well, then…”
This old man is going to continue to do my job for me, isn’t he?
“Listen folks… Here is how to “save”. Talk to frogs. This is how you “save”. It’s not too tedious or troublesome, so you should talk to frogs as often as you can. Plus, saving is absolutely free. Now then, it’s time for me to return to the story.
“Hey, wait for me! You saved me some Donuts too, I hope?!” Alec yells as he catches up with his family.
Inside the house, the boys and Hinawa sit around the table, eating Hinawa’s delicious Donuts. Alec prepares his own plate.
“What’s your favorite food, Mom?” Claus asks with a mouth full of food. “Oh? Donuts? Then your favorite is the same as ours? We make a good match!”
Hinawa smiled brightly, with love in her eyes. “After we’re done eating, we need to get ready to go home. We have to go through the forest to get back, so we’ll need to leave early.”
Alec turns towards his daughter. “Don’t be silly. I bet the kids could make it here on their own, it’s that safe. I bet even you could handle it, Lucas! Hahahaha!” Lucas made a noise, upset but unable to refute his grandfather.
Frowning, Hinawa gave a look of disappointment to her father before standing up, taking the note she had written earlier with her, and heading for the door.
Dear Flint,
Just like you said they would, the children have been running around the mountains and fields tirelessly since the moment we arrived.
Claus is as daring and full of energy as ever, while Lucas is still a bit coddled. But neither one seems tired of playing at all.
My father seems sad to say goodbye to his grandchildren after seeing them for the first time in so long, but we should be home by this evening.
I had forgotten how nice and refreshing the mountain air is. You’re always covered in the smell of sheep back in Tazmily Village, so I really wish you could have been here to take in this air
The next time we visit, let’s ask one of our neighbors to tend to the sheep so we can all come up here as a family.
Claus, Lucas, and I were always thinking about you. When we get home this evening, I’ll start cooking some of your favorite Donuts right away.
With love, your dearest Hinawa
Hinawa attaches the note to a bird that will deliver it to Flint before the group can make it back home. The bird flies south, its wings spreading in the sunlight. Hinawa steps out a bit further on the porch and watches the bird fly off for a moment, soaking in the peacefulness of the moment. Once satisfied, she turned back toward the door, ready to wrangle the twins into leaving.
With her hand on the doorknob, Hinawa stops, frozen. It’s as if every part of her instincts are telling her something is wrong, there is danger near. It’s a terrible feeling, one you get in your gut that spreads to your whole body within moments. From behind the house, she hears a strange noise, a melody that she’s never heard of, and it’s approaching quickly.
A circular shadow crosses in front of the house and the music becomes distorted as it vanishes deeper into the forest. Hinawa watched with cautious curiosity, a breeze blowing her hair back behind her. Nothing about it seemed immediately dangerous but it was certainly a cause for concern. Hinawa attempted to shake the uneasiness she felt and headed back inside.
A story is a series of memories. Memories are remembered with other memories, and in turn become memories themselves. If you don’t take care to preserve your memories, you’ll forget them. So, please tell us frogs your memories of everything so far… That is what people refer to as “saving”. Now then. *hop* Save your game?
>Yes No
Please be careful out there. Give my regards to the next frog you meet.
Hello and welcome to my meager attempt at bringing you MOTHER 3. This will be different from anything I’ve done and I am open to feedback, so long as it’s constructive. I am but one girl trying her best. I hope you enjoy this project of mine and appreciate what an amazing story MOTHER 3 has to offer. I will be posting here and on AO3, so feel free to reach out on Tumblr if you have specific comments, questions, or concerns.
Game details that didn’t make the cut: If you dash into Hinawa, she will drop Nut Bread. If you check the mirror before changing, it says “The same bed-head as always.” If you check the mirror after you change, it says, “Lookin’ handsome.”
Summary: You find that your boss, Silco, has been turned into a cat.
Warnings: none
a/n: I wake up everyday and wonder why people want me to continue this. I had no idea where I was going when I started this but now it's going somewhere (maybe) and I'll explain more in the ending note because it'll make more sense that way. This is also like twice as long as any of the other chapters so have fun. That might keep happening since this now has something resembling a plot.
Nothing seemed real any more. You were about to accuse your landlord of witchcraft, charge her with crimes of turning your boss, the King of Zaun, into a street cat, and Silco would commit crimes against humanity once human again. If the fuzzy ball of scruff back at The Last Drop wasn’t living proof this was real, you’d be begging to wake up from this surrealist nightmare.
Sevika practically ripped your arm out of its socket, dragging you back to your apartment building. You took heavy steps and dragged your heels, hoping to slow the journey to think your way out of this. The attempt was useless, Sevika would always win in a game of strength and you were a headliner clown in this clusterfuck of a circus. There was no way out of the circus tent but through the ring of fire.
The pulling stopped and you were jerked to a halt, your arm screaming in pain as you regained control. You studied the door of the building like it was a piece of art before giving a pleading look towards the woman next to you. Her eyebrows raised expectantly, waiting for something, expecting action and soon.
“Well, we’re here. You said you wanted to talk to her first so get to it.” Sevika crossed her arms in front of her chest, huffing.
You sighed. “How reliable is your memory? Maybe it wasn’t her, maybe I’m wrong, maybe—”
Luckily Sevika used her human arm to slap you outside the head. “Stop stalling or I’ll just drag her to Silco’s office. Don’t push it. You’re the one who wanted to drag this out.”
You reached for the door, pulling it open and walking through. Sevika followed closely as you lead her to the woman’s apartment on the first floor. The door seemed so unsuspecting, giving nothing away about being the door of a (potential) witch. You raised your fist but you couldn’t knock. You stared at your hand, unmoving. There was a knocking sound regardless of your frozen hand, which startled you. You looked up at Sevika, who looked annoyed at having to knock on the door for you, like it was an arduous task.
Inside the apartment, you could hear movement as Deidre moved to answer the door. A few locks flipped, making a clicking sound, and the door opened slightly, a chain stopping it from opening fully.
“Deidre! So sorry to disturb you but I have something to talk to you about.”
Her blue eyes pierced into your soul, like she knew more than she let on and exuded distrust. “I am firm on the no cats policy, my dear. However, I can give you a few more days if you really felt the need to convince me with violence.” Her eyes flickered over to Sevika and then back at you.
It was at that moment you realized you had spent so much time trying to get out of this confrontation that you had no idea what you were going to do to broach the subject. You stood there, dumbly, as an awkward silence settled over the three of you. As the pressure seemed to rise to the point of bursting, Deidre about to close the door on your face and Sevika about to rip it off its hinges, you blurted out a few words and they stumbled from your mouth ungracefully.
“What are your thoughts on transfiguration?” That seemed to break the tension, causing the two other women to flinch backward in surprise at your outburst.
“Excuse me?”
“Turning a thing into a different thing. You know, magic.”
Deidre hesitated before speaking. “Magic? I’m not sure I’m following.”
Sevika leaned over you, placing a hand on the door to test the strength of the chain keeping the door closed. “Can you turn someone into a cat or not, lady?”
Another awkward moment passed before the landlord gave a harsh laugh, something between annoyance and incredulousness. “I don’t know who you’ve been talking to but you shouldn’t believe everything you hear. I may be a medium but nothing I do is magic, I’m afraid. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
“You admit you are something though. What did you do to Silco?” Sevika’s voice came out gritty and impatient. The chain keeping the door closed was barely holding on, close to breaking. You stared at it, admiring its determination to stay linked together while your own sanity unraveled.
The older woman considered Sevika before addressing you again. “This is about your boss? I’ve never met the man—”
“You’re lying, I saw you, yesterday, walk into his office.”
“I did no such thing!”
There was a loud clack, the chain breaking and hitting the door and then a bang as the door hit the wall. Sevika pushed passed you, shoving you into Deidre’s home while she held the older woman by her scarf and dress. She was in her face, yelling, as Deidre refuted her accusations. The argument was hard for you to follow, the most you could get out of Deidre’s defense was that she isn’t a hack and a fraud and only deals with spirits but not usually those of animals like cats. She hardly even does tarot readings because of the poor reputation spiritualism gets from all the past debunking and she just wants to do this in peace!
The fight melted into the background as a wall filled with framed photos caught your eye. Some looked like staged family photos but there were two Deidres in a few, maybe three. They looked exactly the same. Other photos covered the wall, looking old and yellowed over time, some with bright flashes in them and ghostly figures. Deidre was a main figure in a lot of these photos but in many, there were at least two Deidres.
You spun around, putting your hand on Sevika’s arm. “Stop! She has a sister! A twin sister!”
Sevika did stop her assault to look at you in anger before glaring back at the woman held in her hands. Her eyebrows seemed to ask for her confirmation.
The older woman rolled her eyes, like she was making the realization herself too. “Of course! I haven’t seen any of my sisters in a long time but I’d be willing to bet they would each do something nefarious to a man like Silco.” She was quiet a moment, staring past Sevika before yelling again. “Let me go, you brute, before I make you pay for more than the door!” Her hands swatted at Sevika’s arms, like she had no self-preservation.
To her credit, Sevika did let her go and backed up. Deidre readjusted her scarf and dress, huffing the whole time. “Now pick up the door and put it back on the hinges. There are tools in the closet across the hall.”
Sevika balked at the command before becoming aggravated. “Lady, you are on thin ice. Do you think I will—”
“Did you not break into my home, falsely accuse me of witchcraft, and threaten me?! You’ve also dragged my tenant with you! I know you have working hands as they held me aggressively against the wall so I assume they work well enough to screw a few bolt into place. Or are you only capable of violence and mayhem? Hmm?”
The two stared each other down as your heartrate spiked, wondering if you were about to watch a double homicide and how you’d begin to explain the situation to anyone outside the room, let alone your cat boss. It seemed that no matter who one, you were the loser.
It was surprisingly Sevika who relented, muttering under her breath as she went to see the damage she had done.
Your eyes went wide and your jaw fell open. “You… You… What? How? You have to be a witch, because only Silco could boss her around!” You leaned over, clutching your chest. “Is this what a heart attack feels like? I think I’m dying.”
Deidre hummed. “No magic. The spirits told me to not show fear, to not fall prey to her intimidation, and that would be the way to get through to her. It’s about speaking the same language, my dear, I just happen to have an advantage. Would you like some tea and snacks? You’ve been dragged into some mischief unfairly and yet you still extend yourself too far.” Without waiting for an answer, the older woman trots over to the sink, filling up a kettle with water.
She seemed so… sure about everything. How did she know? Spirits? Unfairly?
“Dear, you’ll catch flies if you don’t close your jaw,” she continued her crusade of gathering cups, plates, and refreshments without stopping. Your jaw closed shut with a click. Deidre approached you once again with a full tray, ushering you to sit down. Not knowing what else to do, you followed and accepted the cup of tea she pushed into your hands. Sevika was somehow making quick work of putting the door back up, though begrudgingly.
Everything about this was so… bizarre. Did you enter The Twilight Zone? Deidre was so calm and somehow you felt… comforted? How did she create such an atmosphere? The warm cup in your hand, the easy of the air around you, as if a safety blanket had been placed on you.
Deidre sat in the chair next to you, sipping her tea and looking at you expectantly. Her face had softened from when she had answered the door but her eyes were still calculating. You never had a moment to really analyze her before this, but she did give off the vibes of a mystic grandma you’d find in a cottage in the woods that you could only ever find once and never on purpose. Her hair was unruly, curly and barely tamed in a bun. Her dress seemed stuffy, an older fashion and well worn. Deidre seemed old and timeless at the same time, something of an ethereal, magical being.
“There is no magic in what I do,” Deidre started as if reading your thoughts, “but it can seem like magic to those not in touch with the world around them. I am a medium and can commune with spirits who are still with us. I don’t necessarily get to choose which spirits reach out, much to the grieving’s’ dismay, but it is very real. My sisters, however, would disagree.”
“Sister… plural as in… multiple sisters?”
“Yes, yes, we all look the same. Our mother had a hard time telling us apart. It was quite fun to pull pranks on unsuspecting guests. We are rather estranged now, splitting off in our beliefs. I practice spiritualism but my sisters… They would believe in something as silly as magic. Or use it against marks to get money. They love a good grift, the charlatan.”
Sevika huffed a laugh before sitting down in the last available seat. “So, what, you’re going to bring out a Ouija board and ask the spirits which one of your sisters turned Silco into a cat?”
Deidre did not like Sevika’s attitude one bit. She acted completely different from how she treated you. “It’s naysayers like you that are the reason I don’t advertise my profession as I wish to. No amount of proof will suffice to someone who refuses to believe. Besides, the spirits are not omniscient and I don’t partake so much in the physical demonstration.” She sat back in her chair, her eyes trained back on you.
“I’m not asking.” Sevika broke a cookie in her hand, staring menacingly at Deidre.
The older woman didn’t break eye contact with you as she responded. “Your forcefulness does not encourage the spirits. You’ll get nowhere with it.”
Deidre had all of her attention directed at you, as if it was your turn in a game and she was waiting for you to move. It wasn’t aggressive, more like she was pushing you to do better, like a mentor would. You just wished you knew what game you were playing and what the fucking rules were.
*~*~*
So, in my absence, I have been consuming a lot of podcasts, specifically one called Behind the Bastards. Highly recommend, 10/10, you will go insane. It lead me to a podcast called Ghost Church about American Spiritualism. I became intrigued as it aligns more with my beliefs somewhat. I'm not making fun of it but I am pulling from it for inspiration. The sisters, however, will make fun of it as they will each be inspired by different forms of religion that popped up around that time. Their look and their name are pulled from those people who popularized believing in spirits and having contact with the world beyond. So, you might learn a thing with this silly fic, who knows.
Being knocked out for more than 5 minutes means very serious brain damage but humans not having a turn-off button would do immense damage to our collective storytelling. So many films and books and videogames just wouldn't happen if writers stopped bonking their characters on the head. Insane.
I love your silco cat fic! It’s hilarious! I feel if silco was a cat he’d look like this, these lanky goblin eared cats are so adorably ridiculous looking
Omg that’s also a great depiction of him. Just all around pathetic looking. The eyes and ears combo is so good. That cat looks almost part bat. You could pick that cat up and he’d be all limbs.
I always think he gives off airs, so he’d look regal. Like my cat looks beautiful, sophisticated, I’ve even been told she also seems to be human when you look into her eyes. But I know that in truth, she’s the most ungraceful chaos demon trapped inside the fluffy body of a calico with two brain cells. I also think he’d have a bit of singed fur, like when my first cat discovered the baseboard heaters in my apartment and sat in front of them too long.
But that’s just me, I adore the idea of Silco turning into a cat like the goblin you’ve shared and struggling so hard to understand how legs work, like a new born giraffe. This is the second form, where he’s fighting a losing battle against being stuck in the world’s greatest predator shaped body, limited only by size and brain processing power
Summary: You find that your boss, Silco, has been turned into a cat.
Warnings: none
a/n: I'm not dead, just listening to podcast about people with delusions of grandeur, and maybe that's where this story will end up.
Smuggling cat-Silco into his office was much easier than getting him out. It helped Sevika could glare anyone into submission, forcing them to look down at the ground while you carried the precious cargo that was your boss.
You and Sevika tore the office apart, searching for any clues. Random cursed objects, cat claws and whiskers used for a sacrifice, even Shimmer tainted catnip. There was nothing, though it’s not like either of you knew what to look for. Besides, neither of you spent enough time in the office to know if something was out of place.
The cat himself clearly had other things to do. You watched as Silco tapped objects around with mild interest, using some to test the gravity in the office. A small pile of trinkets and pens amassed on the floor as time went on. Every once and a while, Silco would sit his scruffy-looking ass down, tail wrapped over his front paws, and stare holes into you and Sevika. His look was bored, as if expecting to be entertained. Neither of you knew what he wanted, so he would go back to tapping objects.
“So, what you’re telling me is… you know nothing.”
Never taking your eye off a pen as it rolled under the desk, you responded dejectedly. “Well, when you put it that way, it sounds like I didn’t try. However, I think I’ve gone above and beyond the call of duty here.”
Sevika scoffed. “Right. You have no answers and no leads but you definitely deserve a raise.”
You groaned and swiveled your head toward the golden armed warrior. “It’s not like I was here when it happened and I already told you my suspect is—”
“A lady with no appointment, who said something, and left without anyone noticing.”
“Yeah so, I mean, that’s not nothing—”
“There are many ladies in Zaun, you moron, it barely narrows it down.”
“I’m not exactly an expert in therianthropy or shapeshifting. I work behind the bar most nights! Y’all don’t even trust me enough to do inventory, so I fail to see how this is remotely my problem.” You dug the heals of your hands into your eyes and sighed, annoyed at how unlucky you were to have been the one to have found Silco. “Do you remember what that old hag looked like, from yesterday? She was the last one you saw come in here, right? Could you describe her enough so I could draw her face and see if we can use that to ask around?”
It was quiet for a moment. You looked up to see both Silco and Sevika staring at you incredulously. Raising your arms in question, you glared back at the two.
Sevika huffed, “You can draw? I’ve seen your handwriting, it’s dogshit.”
Underpaid and underappreciated, you wondered why you even offered and why you were still here. You grabbed a pen off the floor and some loose paper, making room on the messy desk. The sketch of the woman’s face started out generic, a base for Sevika to go off of.
It was all going fine until a few lines started to get out of hand and the pen became difficult to use. You scowled at Silco, who was much closer and swatting the moving pen. Lifting the pen out of reach, you frowned, trying to convey your annoyance. No emotion showed on his face, only focused on his target.
A silent battle was fought between the two of you. Silco looked at you with defiant eyes. This was Silco’s desk, pen, paper, and office, and if he wanted to play with the pen, it was his right. However, you were trying to help make him not a cat and his little paws were interfering with that work. After a few seconds, you made your attack. You lifted Silco up, keeping him at arms length, and placed him on the chair all while ignoring the deepening scowl the scruffy feline gave.
“If Silco remembers what happened while he was a cat, he’ll kill you. Maybe worse.”
You sighed, “He’ll have to get in line. Just tell me what the lady looked like.”
Silco accepted his fate, stretching his claws into the seat of the chair, walking in a circle, and curling up into a fluffy ball.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
After pulling the details out from Sevika, which was more difficult than you could have imagined (like it was Sevika’s job to keep them secret and close to her heart), you had a sketch to go off of. When you had a moment to finally look at it, you were sure you messed up somewhere.
You turned to Sevika, the sketch outstretched in your hands. “Is this what she looked like?”
“Shit, that looks just like the woman. It’s almost like you’ve seen her before.”
Silco snapped his head up, eyes bleary from sleep, now alert. He uncurled himself from the chair to leap onto the desk for a better vantage point. A single paw tapped your wrist impatiently a few times until you laid out the sketch on the desk. Silco took a few steps back, taking in the portrait. His head tilted from side to side before he pounced on the paper and looked up at you, meowing in approval.
“Even Silco agrees.” You rubbed your face, giving yourself a moment to think. “Well, the good news is, I know who the woman is.”
“Really? Who?”
“My landlord.”
Seivka stood and started making her way toward the door. “Then what are we waiting for? Let’s get going.”
“Wait! But I live there! I can’t go accusing my landlord of witchcraft, she’ll evict me.”
“How is that my problem?”
You sputtered, thrown off kilter by Sevika’s lack of empathy. “Where would I live?”
Before Sevika could answer, Silco meowed loud enough to startle you both. He held his presence as if he was human again, demanding respect and attention. It was easy to forget how powerful he was when he looked so cute and fluffy.
“Silco will reward you for helping him, of course.”
Sighing, you considered the offer. Realistically, you couldn’t say no to Silco anyway. “Fine, but let me talk to her first. I’ll try to negotiate nicely and if that doesn’t work, you can be the bad cop.”
The golden armed brute looked toward that cat sitting on the desk, waiting for approval. Silco sat up straight, regal as always, and looked between the two of you. He nodded and blinked slowly. It was a weird scene to experience, waiting for a cat to dictate the path of your future.
The same cat that started grooming himself on top of the desk.
a/n: It's been a long time since I've really written anything, even with ideas floating around. I've been rewatching Teen Wolf and it's my current, stupid obsession. Reading other people's fics, I kept thinking about how I would want a crossover to play out, but never finding one I liked. Hell, I don't even care about Supernatural but I found myself researching Polish rock bands for Dean and Sam's identities for a scene where Stiles would point out they can't say the Polish names right, so I started to just write. I don't know if I'll actually finish this but I am posting it more for myself as accountability (though if people like it, that would be encouraging). Not sure of a pairing and if there is one, it'll likely be pre-slash but Sterek since Stiles will be one of the main narrators.
Stiles knew something was up the moment he laid eyes in the two men dressed in suits, parading around the sheriff’s station as FBI agents. He didn’t need werewolf senses to know these two were sketchy. Sheriff Stilinski, his very cruel flesh and blood, had kicked Stiles out of his office when the two had arrived and introduced themselves. It was like the Sheriff didn’t trust his own son with information about high priority cases.
The officers in the room ignored Stiles as he sank quietly to his knees in front of the door, pressing his ear against the door. They were quite used to Stiles snooping and it was always better to ignore the teenager because dealing with him was much more work.
While he was uncomfortable in the position, Stiles didn’t dare move. He didn’t want to create any noise that could bring attention to himself, forcing the Sheriff to kick him out further. It was at moments like this he really envied his furry friends, unable to hear much through the door. The teenager focused a little harder and his efforts were rewarded.
Agent Ciechowski and Agent Ciesielski.
Stiles barely heard the names through the door but it was hard for him to mistake Polish names. Not with an abomination like his first name. Other phrases like ‘animal attacks’ and ‘claw related injuries’ seeped through the door. He couldn’t hear anything else though, as Deputy Parrish yanked him away from the door by the collar of his shirt.
“Hey! Hey! Don’t stretch the shirt out, man! Come on!” The sound of his sneakers squeaked in the bustling room and his arms flailed wildly as he attempted to stand under Parrish’s grip.
“Stiles, I heard the Sheriff tell you to go home, so you should get going. You’re already on thin ice.” Deputy Parrish was young, competent, and well acquainted with the teenager’s shenanigans. He heard enough from the Sheriff and observed the rest with his own eyes.
Stiles faced the deputy, trying to convey his uneasiness with the several expressions flittering across his face in seconds. His brain worked quickly to figure out how he could convince Parrish to help him. “But…! Parrish, don’t they seem weird? They don’t give off an ‘FBI’ vibe. Something is off about them.” To drive the point home, Stiles shifted his weight from foot to foot, uneasy.
Parrish considered the words for a moment, deciphering if this was Stiles’ instincts hitting the mark once again, or it if this was Stiles’ usual brand of bullshit and he was just trying to stick his nose where it didn’t belong. “Why do you think that?” He questioned, lowering his voice and leaning into the teenager’s space to make the conversation more private.
His mouth in a thin line, Stiles eyes scanned the room for answers. “Well, it’s just… I have a feeling.”
“A feeling?”
“Yeah. A feeling. Can’t you see it? About their…” Stiles gestured wildly with his arms, “everything?”
The deputy frowned, almost disappointed in the kid. He expected a better excuse. Parrish straightened his posture and put his hands on his tactical belt. “Go home, Stiles. I’ll keep an eye on them, and I promise, if I see anything suspicious—“
“You’ll tell me?”
“—I’ll talk to your father, the Sheriff of Beacon Hills and my boss, and I’ll share our concerns.”
An exasperated sigh escaped the teenager. Without Parrish on his side, there wasn’t much else he could do at the station. Stiles would have to go do research on his own, possibly give Danny a call and somehow bribe him to break the law again. Had Danny hacked the FBI database before? Maybe if Stiles presented it as a challenge, it could work.
Stiles made his way to his Jeep in the parking lot, but stopped abruptly when he saw a vintage car he didn’t recognize parked a few spots away. Beacon Hills wasn’t that big; he’d have recognized that car if he had seen it before. The only black, noteworthy car in this town was Derek’s Camaro. Therefore, this had to be the car the FBI agents rolled up in. Looking around to make sure there wasn’t eyes on him, Stiles pulled out his phone and took pictures of the car, making sure to get the license plate number to check out later. He noted that the plates were from Kansas and there was nothing signifying that this was a government vehicle.
The Jeep pulled out of the parking lot quickly, much on the teenagers mind.
Opening his laptop, Stiles typed in the first agents name, Ciechowski, into Google. The name sounded familiar, possibly from his mom telling stories of her Polish friends. When the results popped up, Stiles squinted. He wasn’t sure what he expected, but it sure wasn’t the bio of a Polish rock star. The band, Republika, sounded familiar but Stiles couldn’t place why.
Digging a bit more, he found the band’s website. Stiles opened the page and couldn’t stop himself from playing one of the songs, Bikini Death.
The staccato notes from the guitar played through his speakers and Stiles realized why he recognized the singer. The band Grzegorz Ciechowski was a part of was one his mom used to play for him when he was younger, to connect him with his heritage. She had told the story of how she saw them live once and cried when Grzegorz had died.
The memories of his mother ripped a scar open inside his chest, but he couldn’t stop now.
It all came together when Stiles read the names of the band members. One in particular stood out.
Sławomir Ciesielski.
The FBI agents had taken their identities from the Polish rock band. It was what Stiles needed to confirm his suspicions.
These two men were likely hunters checking up on the werewolf population of Beacon Hills.
***
Here's a link to the song, Bikini Death by Republika. There is a Polish version, but I like this remastered version. The title is a line from the song. Mamona and Psy Pawłowa were runner ups.
