#Hunting down exactly what he's looking for and breaking past those defences | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tommyspeakycap · 3 years

Note

request for jack grealish one where he’s really upset over something and you’re there with him to comfort him, lots of physical contact being his love language and you being the only person he likes touching his hair ?

Comfort

You knew from the very second he walked through the door that annoyed would be an incredibly generous word to describe the emotions running through the Brummie boys head. You grimace to yourself, shoulder raising closer to your ears at the sound of the brand new front door slamming heavily behind him with a curse at the fact he couldn't get his shoes kicked off just right the first time he attempted it in the foyer.

The first game was a loss and just about all he'd gotten for the past few days was hate, stress, hate and some more fucking stress. He was exhausted. From Mykonos to Birmingham to get a bag full of clothes so he could meet Villa in London before eventually travelling to Manchester, his sleep schedule has been completely messed up and even when he did have bursts of time where he should have been sleeping, he had been laying awake scrolling through countless tweets criticising his every single move. Add to that the fact his body was exhausted from international duty and that he had wanted nothing more than to curl up by your side and let his worries melt away like he had last gotten to do nearly three whole months ago.

He doesn't know you're here. To the very best of Jack's knowledge, you were still home in Birmingham and he would probably have to broach the conversation of whether or not you'll be joining him up anytime soon, if ever. He lets out a frustrated grunt, but you know Jack better than anyone else and there's the thick sheen of his heart aching tears existing beneath his frustration.

"Hey baby."

His head snaps around to land his eyes on you the second your sweet voice meets his buzzing ears. The echos of Etihad still burn a bit of his hearing away for now, but he knows it'll return to normal by the end of the night. The tears that had previously been kept on his lash line, pushed back by his will not to breakdown for fear he might not be able to stop if he starts are now past the last line of defence, streaming over his cheeks as he crossed the floor at a pace that would send his fife rating into surefire question.

Your body makes an involuntary 'oof' as he crashes against you, his arms so tight around your body as he stops you from stumbling back with the force of his incoming hug. You don't think he's ever actually held you that tightly before, never with such dire necessity, with such urgency for you to be as close to him as he could get you.

The hair that's been allowed to fall loose from the band he'd earlier had it tied back in tickles the back of your neck as it dangles over the exposed skin. He mumbles something almost incoherent about how much he's missed you into your neck, pepping chaste kisses where his lips have landed against you in this hug. You wished you could enjoy that, but the dampening that has begun to occur over the shoulder that his head is above reminds you of the pain he must be in.

Leaving your childhood club is one thing, but leaving it when everybody else seems to think he's a monster for it is a whole different kind of agony. There were just too many emotions for people to see the kind of things Jack had given for the club and the huge opportunity he had left them with his legacy and with the money they copped for his record breaking sale.

"It's okay, Jacky." You coo, tightening your arms around you as he attempts one tighter squeeze to force the tears back into him. It's a futile attempt, his arms loosening but never dropping away from you as he squeezes his eyes shut and lets those sobs shake his body. "I got you, baby. I've got you."

There was such a mix of emotions running through him that made him feel like the world had just pushed him to the ground and taken the perfect opportunity to give his body a good kicking. First final for England in 55 years, then they lost in a penalty shootout he didn't even get to be a part of after a game he barely got to play in. Then a holiday he couldn't take with you because of work commitments and a sudden coworker needed sooner maternity leave meaning your holiday was completely eliminated. As if those things didn't dampen his spirit, all that transfer business had gone down and it was finally all hitting him.

His exhaustion had caught up, an inevitable burn out that could be messed only by the presence of you in his life. Some of this tears that stream down his cheeks and pool on the grey material of your t-shirt are ones of joy and relief for finally having you back in his arms again for the first time in far too long of a time. Jack vows he will never ever spend that amount of time without you again. Never will he let so much time pass before he gets to hold you, kiss you and tell you face to face how much he truly loves every single thing about you.

"You're my rockstar, you know." You announce, seemingly out of the blue ones his body wracking sobs had died to smaller sniffled and period tears streaking down onto you. "I've literally never been prouder of anyone in my life ever. Not only did you fucking smash the euros, but then you stayed so sweet and so amicable during such a difficult process. You handled everything so well, J. I'm so proud or you and I'm so, so happy for you." You promise, pushing him back so you can take his blotchy, tear streaked face in your head. The expanse of that face is coved in your kisses, pecked all over the surface until he's giggling like the Jack that you know so well, his laugh the most contagious sound you've ever been lucky enough to get to hear on a daily basis. "And I'm so lucky that you let me share this journey with you." You finish, landing your lips softly and perfectly onto his with a warmth and love he had been desperately missing out on for those last vital few weeks of his break.

"S' our journey," Jack mumbles in response against your lips, pulling back every so slightly so he can get a proper good look at the face he had missed so much in person. Your cute quirked eyebrows and confusion tainted eyes make him smile before he elaborates. "Not my journey, it's our journey together. All of this, just the two of us."

His words make your heart sore, flying up onto the space above you in pure glee. You had to admit there was a mild element of fear wondering if he would want you here or if he'd maybe be wanting fresh start, but that was certainly not the case for Jack.

"I love you," he says as you feel him tuck you right back into his chest with a content hum. "I love you too, but you need a wash."

Jack's laughter bellows loudly from his chest beneath your ear at your lightly playful and yet very truthful statement.

"I ran you a bubble bath for you. Bathroom's huuuuge." Your eyes are full of wonder like he thought they might be when he would get the opportunity to bring you out to his temporary Manchester abode. This is you would both stay until he could find a house to place some money down on so he can truly start to settle out the fact he's going to have the next six years of his life here in this area with this club. It makes him more than happy, being here. But something that tickles him in thought as he follows you up the stairs is that he'll get to experience all of this newness with you. You’ll get to explore the new area together, find nee places, making it home together. You had both known Soulihull like the back of your hand, now you could find new places to just be together. He can go house hunting with you. He'll let you drag him through the houses he probably wouldn't otherwise look so much into, talking about what room could be which and silly little things he wouldn't even have noticed.

He could pick a house with you that would have enough room to start a family in together within the next year or so, like you had been hoping to do depending on what the club and transfer season had brought. This brought stability, a team that would function well without a reliance on him if there were some things he had to sit out in order to build this family.

It had been, unbeknownst to you, such a pivotal part of discussions with the Manchester City agents. Jack made it clear he was looking for stability and trophies. He had done so much for Villa and now it was time for him to invest energy in bigger fights with bigger clubs that don't face relegation so constantly. He made it clear to the managers also that the was looking to be in the business of starting a family sometime soon. He was welcomed with open arms still. A club who wanted him desperately and would probably have caved to many more demands from him, not having a fraction of an issue with negotiated paternity pay and leave.

He couldn't wait to find a house and settle down here with you for the foreseeable future, even if things didn't look exactly as he thought they might've looked when you first got together as merely young adults.

"What's going on in that pretty head of yours, eh?" You ask softly, running your fingers gently through his tangled and sweaty hair as he stands there in the middle of the large bathroom. Jack shrugs. There's so much in there today, not really like usual where he could sort through those thoughts and keep his head clear for every day and every game he faces.

"Just stressed," he huffs, allowing you to help him out of the brand new away strip he had been given at the beginning of the day today for his first first game with the new team.

His muscles are achy and tight, body still stiff from the cold that the rain had battered into his limbs as you easily hook off his boxers and tug them down his legs so he can step over the bathtub into the perfect temperature bubble filled water that makes him heave out a heavy sigh of relief the second it meets his skin.

"Talk to me, baby?"

And talk to you he did after he sat down in that bath with you.

He leaned back against you, allowing you to lather shampoo into the hair he trusted very few people with multiple times to massage the ache out of his skull from the previous days tension headaches. He talks about all those messages from so many unhappy people, some even City fans who didn't even want to entertain the idea of him being there. He talks about his worry of sitting on the bench season after season, telling you he was hoping to god those tweets wouldn't be further from the truth. He confided in you some of his greatest pains; the concept that he'd let his Villa teammates down and maybe even made his family unhappy despite the fact they had given him nothing but their full support and unsurprising pride just like everybody else in his immediate circle.

You massage muscle relaxing soap into all of the muscles in his body as he just talks, letting the weight of the world off of his shoulders to dissipate like the steam in the air from the bath. Only once he has everything off his chest and the waters gone cold do you both leave the bathroom, wrapped in towels then into pyjamas where he wraps you up in his arms like he's been desperate to do since the moment he touched off for International duty months ago, and he talks again.

This time, he talks to you instead of just talking out every worry and fear he's ever had.

Jack uses probably the most amount of words he's ever used in such sensible succession in order to paint you a perfect mental picture of a house just outside the city with a huge garden, fenced in for dogs and kids with a pool and enough room for all three of those future kids to have their own room, even though they'll share at first just for fun. He paints a picture of you at his games with two sons and a daughter, his name on each shirt along your back. The kids will call Foden uncle Phil and they’ll love him just like you both do. They'll get to play with the teams kids on the pitch after the games no matter how tired the guys are even if they've been thrashed in a loss. He depicts the kind of life you had both wanted for so long, somehow always deterred by something until right this moment, the time feeling like it had rolled perfectly into place for both of you.

And Jack tells you about how you'll poke fun at him when he starts to get those salt and pepper strands of hair and he'll love you no matter how you look. Your kids will learn what love is from their parents, they'll pick it up and they'll emulate it in their own lives sometime in the future. They'll stamp out hate with the hearts full of love that you will both allow those kids to grow into.

You both fall asleep together that night, wrapped in each others arms drifting off into dreams of kids that don't exist yet in a house you haven't even looked for with a future that each of you wants nothing more than to grab onto with both hands.

Jack's heart hurts for the changes he's made this week. He doubts the pain will ever fully leave him and he hopes that one day his club will welcome him back to end his career on a high note with them. However, until then the pain will be dulled by the prospect of his new future here.

One he can't wait to get stuck right into.

#jack grealish imagines #jack grealish imagine #jack grealish x reader #england national team #england national team imagine #football fics #footballer fics #footie fics

292 notes · View notes

starr-fall-knight-rise · 4 years

Text

Humans are Space Orcs, “The verdict.”

Was writing very quick today, so forgive the typos, and I hope you like it

The detective woke to a familiar face only a few feet away from his. He was being shaken back and forth and with every shake his head pounded. Despite being able to see it took him more than a few minutes to finally understand what was even going on.

“Detective, detective! Wake up, there we go, that’s it. You hit your head pretty hard.”

When his vision finally focused down and he took the time to recognize the face in front of him, he yelped in sudden surprise and tried to leap to his feet. However, his legs had other ideas, and he sagged hard towards the ground, his head pounding and nauseous.

Admiral Vir laid a hand on his shoulder, “Woah there hotshot take it easy. Gonna need you to stay still so I can take care of this.”

He groaned and tried to swat the other man away, “You-!

“Didn’t do this.” HE said, grabbing the Detective by the wrist and holding it tight as he used his left hand, and a damp cloth to wipe blood from his head, “Think back a little and maybe you’ll remember.”

Confused by the man helping him, and his own throbbing head, he did his best to think back.

He remembered being outside the cells watching the cameras. He remembered dozing off in his seat a little.

And then it came to him.

He remembered being violently dragged off his chair and into the dark bak room, a hand over his mouth only to be set upon by the three escaped human prisoners. Things were so silent and so quick that it was hard to rationalize what happened. His eyes, still trying to focus, looked around the room and the wide open floor which constituted some kind of bar or club, with chairs and tables and seats, and a dance floor. However, everything was deserted as of now, and he was sitting back against one of the couches, his legs sticking out straight before him.

Admiral Vir leaned forward a bit, eyes narrowed in concentration as he parted the matted hair on top of the detective’s scalp. The expression the detective had come to know, one of indignant, childish petulance, was gone, and in its place was a serious expression of worry and concern that made the man look nearly twenty years older than he was.

This was the man he had expected when he heard admiral, not the sass mouthing over talkative prisoner he had been trying to interrogate for the past day or two. Admiral Vir sat back on his heels, his expression serious still, but less worried now, “So, you got yourself whacked pretty hard. Luckily for you the bleeding stopped and the cut isn’t too deep. Normally I would suggest finding a doctor to make sure you haven't badly concussed yourself, but considering the circumstances, we don’t really have that option.

We? He thought with some incredulity repeating the phrase before he knew what he was saying, “We…. What do you mean by we. I am the detective and YOU are the suspect.”

A little bit of the sarcastic childishness returned as the Admiral rolled his eyes to the heavens, “You are a pretty shit detective if you haven’t figured out by now that I am on your side.” Admiral Vir sat back on his heels, his one green eye staring the detective in the face, surprisingly devoid of any sort of malice.

“I’m going to be honest with you about exactly what happened, no sarcasm this time, no jokes. I was called into this planet as a consult to a murder.” he held up a hand as the detective went to protest, “Yes, I know, I am no detective, but I was asked by the GA, so I went. When we got there we found a dismembered Tesraki body in the back of his shop, based on the tourist area and and violence of the crime, I determined that humans had done it. WHen I saw the missing limbs I immediately assumed this was some sick plot about trying to find exotic meat or something, but it turns out I was wrong on that front.”

The admiral Stood and went over to toss the damp rag into a trashcan before returning, “I returned to our hotel room later that night with Krill and Sunny and sat down to compile a list of possible names. I found about twenty, but by the time I was done, it was already too late at night to do anything. I tried to sleep, but none came, so I left to go on a walk. Naturally my preoccupied mind let me towards the part of the city where those twenty names were registered.

It was only by luck that I ran into that alley at all. I couldn’t let the Tesraki die, so I stupidly jumped in and nearly got my throat cut once or twice. I did knock two of them out and break the sternum of the other one.” He patted the leg which the detective happened to know was mechanical, “I always forget how strong this piece of hardware is, but anyway, I called the authorities and the men were carted away. The Tesraki was fine when he left. I remember wrapping my jacket around him and carrying him out to wait for emergency vehicles. That was the last time I saw him. WHen we returned to the precinct the day after, was when you showed up and arrested me.”

The detective sat, his head reeling slowly in confusion and suspicion, “But I saw the security tapes. That’s not what happened.”

“Can you guarantee those security tapes werent doctored. Were you the first person to have your hands on them?”

He paused and then shook his head, “Well, no.”

“And do you admit it is kind of weird for me to be arrested the day after the three men in the alley?” “I mean a little.”

“And based on all the research you have done on me, isn’t this a bit out of character.”

The detective paused unwilling to admit that he had been having some doubts. Sure he had been given a preliminary report of the Admiral’s criminal history, but when he got a better look at it, most of his actions had been justified. In the Drev war, he had been a member of operation Steel eye, a drugged young man being taken advantage of by a system. During the first contact incident, his excitement had led to the discovery of aliens, though the bran had misinterpreted his enthusiasm as hunting. His return to the Drev home planet had involved him spending time to learn their language and about their culture. And his murder of the burg that had inevitably caused the war was an act in self defence, and he couldnt have known that spitting on the creature was going to kill it.

He sighed deeply, “Alright, you have a point…. But I still think your an annoying asshole.”

The man smiled, “I get that a lot.”

“Anyway point of the story is, I woke up to something last night and the cell was open. I think they were trying to frame me for your murder, but the Tesrak idetective came into help at the alst second, and told me to get out as soon as I can.”

He supposed that made sense, and fit into his experience, “And what do you plan to do now? How are you going to get out of this. IF this is really a plot to frame you, and the department is involved, we can assume it comes from high up, with someone powerful enough to at least consider themselves above the law.”

The Admiral paused, tapping his fingers against his knee, “Did you come here in your own ship?”

*** “You must find the admiral and the detective. Leave admiral Vir alive, but make sure the detective dies. In the meantime, I will take this evidence and present it to the GA council, they are unlikely to disbelieve video evidence of the crime.”

The Kree sighed, but nodded, “It will be done.

At that announcement Sunny suddenly grabbed krill by his shoulder and hauled him back into the darkness just in time for the Kree to step out of the office followed by the Tesraki senator.

WIth one hand over Krill’s mouth, Sunny pulled the two of them behind a very large potted plant, watching as the two made their way down the hall.

They had just disappeared around the corner, when Krill turned to look at Sunny, “Why didn’t we jump them?”

Sunny turned to frown at him, “Because what were we going to do, threaten to eat him? Besides, no one would believe us, at least not here. I have a better idea.” “A better idea?”

“Just trust me”

***

Admiral Vir pulled his jacket up against the rain as they came to the launch field. It wasn’t that far away from the department, so they had to keep a low profile, which was hard as two humans, though the cover of rain helped some. The Detetive checked around the landing strip and then motioned the admiral to follow him quickly. Adam did as told and hurried after him, until they came upon a little black/silver ship at the back of the lot.

Adam raised an eyebrow, “A rundi short cruiser, how did you manage to score one of these babies.” he ran his hand along her smooth aerodynamic hull.

“A what? Oh this thing.” He shrugged, “It was given to me for this mission.”

Adam frowned, “This thing? You mean this work of art.

The man just stared at it, ‘It’s a spaceship.”

“It is a shuttle that can warp! And you are calling it just a spaceship. It’s one of only ten ships in existence like this. The Detective shrugged unimpressed, and Adam sighed long and loud, “You have no appreciation for the finer things in life. I bet you don’t even know how to drive it.”

“Its autopilot, why would I want to drive it?”

Adam put his head in his hands, “You’re going to make me cry.”

The door to the little ship hissed open, and the two of them climbed inside. The interior was almost as sleek as the outside, and Adam couldn’t help but run his hands over the console and controls as he went to take a seat in the copilot chair as the other man sat down and began slowly flipping up pre programmed controls.

Adam sighed as the detective flipped through the instruction manual.

“Do you want to drive/” The other man snapped

“I thought you’d never ask.” Adam retired, reaching out a hand for the controls.

Just then the two of them were blinded as a bright spotlight beamed down upon them.

“Admiral Vir, step away from the controls and come out with your hands up.”

“Shit!”

The detective was just reaching out to power down the shuttle, when Adam reached forward, and flicked up the last few switches with lightning speed, turning over the engine and grabbing the controls.

“What the hell are you doing!” The detective yelled “You can’t fly this thing manual, it's too fas-”

He punched the throttle, and they rocketed into the air, doing a tight barrel roll to the left narrowly avoiding the emergency shuttle and equipped high beams. The detective screamed, and then choked off as the G force slammed him back into his seat.

Adam caught their spin and leveled out, coming face to face with another three cruisers. Pulling back on the joystick with his left hand, they shot up vertically before he took them into a spinning vertical dive that had them cutting past the two shuttles, now spinning in confusion.

The Detective screamed again as they pulled out of the dive and back into a vertical climb. On the rear cameras, he could see the three shuttles meandering around in confusion, and thought they were out of the woods for a moment before another set of beams fell on them, and a sleek black ship, of a make he could not identify, fell in behind them.

He punched it harder, pulling into a tight backward loop. WIthout his flight suit the G forces behaved brutally causing his vision to blacken at the edges, but by tensing his belly and chest, he continued to force blood into his head. Off to the side, the G force had been to much for the Detective who was hit with a sudden bout of G-lock and passed out, flopping against his harness like a fish.

He pulled out of the dive just behind the pursuing shuttle, and then quickly cut up and left, pushing the ship to the extremes of it’s speed. As they rose higher into the atmosphere there was an automatic cachunk as the atmospheric engine moved over to the compressed warp/funsio nengine.

The detective flopped around like a dead fish for a few more seconds before his head slowly rolled back upright. He looked horribly green.

“IF you throw up I swear to the Leviathan, I am going to kill you.”

Behind him the little black ship was maintaining a distant pursuit with some difficulty.

Once out of the atmosphere and heading into high orbit, Adam reached down and engaged the warp.

The detective reached out a hand, “Wait!”

But it was too late, the universe around them began to spiral, folding over on itself and reflecting back the space like a mirror. The feeling was terrible like being folded in half or pulled apart as everything far away appeared close and everything close appeared far away.

Admiral Vir felt himself getting ready to pass out against the full power of an undampened warp his brain unable to fathom what he was seeing as space around them was compressed.

They came out with a sudden jolt that threw them against their seats jerking them forward and then back with a sudden halt.

The Detective groaned piteously where he was passed out in his seat Ad had barely retained consciousness, but shook it off as he reached out to grab the controls.

A soft dripping noise had him turning his head to the side, upon which time he grinned rather smugly and turned his head back to the front where the rundi planet, Irus, glowed like a blue and orange marble against the sky. The Detective didn’t wake up for a good few minutes, but when he did, he was soon followed by cruising and a face reddened by embarrassment, “Your first undampened short warp I take it?” Adam said grinning.

HTe man didn’t answer.

Still grinning, adam laughed, “Don’t worry, it happened to the best of us at one point. Most people aren't able to keep their bladder in check during thief first warp.”

“You’re an asshole, you know that.”

“Well aware, but at least this asshole isn’t sitting in a puddle of his own urine.” His merriment was shut up a few second later as their shuttle jerked violently forward, “Shit!” He yelled, forcing the ship back onto it’s trajectory. He took a look at the back camera to see that, somehow, the other ship was still following them.

“Hold on to your hat!” He yelled, punching the throttle and rocketing them towards the blue surface of the planet.

THe Detective screamed again as they roared into the atmosphere at incredible speeds, fire licking up at the sides as atmospheric friction caught up with them. Adam knew what he was doing, he knew just how much power it would take to burnt through the hull or rip off her wings. Knowing his opponent had a less advanced ship, he hoped that they would either, overestimate their abilities or pull back.

And he was right, they did for a while, though not in time as a contingent of Rundi defence ships shot up after them demanding identification over the radio. He was too busy flying to respond, and the Detective could barely function as a human being. The other ship was swarmed, but Adam managed to pull them down into a tight inverted roll backwards and vertical before pulling up and rolling to the side.

The manuver was more than the rundi ships could handle and they lost him as they roared towards the planet.

The city was closer now, close enough that he could see the spires of the GA council chamber.

He soared over the launch filed.

“What are you doing!” The detective yelled

“We don’t have time!” Adam snarled pulling back on the joystick and reversing the thrusters to come to a halt right over the open GA courtyard, WIth steady hands he lowered himself into the open plane as delegates divided out of the way. Guards ran from the outer edge and inward surrounding his ship.

He turned and threw open the doors running out into a wall of heat that battered against him without mercy. The guards froze in confusion as they saw him, and he took the moment to push past.

Behind him the detective staggered out onto the marble barely able to walk, moving about like he was drunk.

WIth a steady stride, adam made his way towards the council chamber.

***

“And as the presented evidence shows, Admiral Vir is a murderer.” The Tesraki delegate announced shocked whispers rising up around him as they stared as the video footage, “In light of these events, I move to-”

At the end of the hall, a door onto the floor slammed open, and everyone turned in shock just in time to see a vrul and a Drev step onto the floor. The Drev was just about to open her mouth to speak when another door slammed open.

The entire delegation moved to their feet with shouts of shock and surprise as Admiral Vir stepped onto the floor, “I OBJECT!.” he paused frowning, “Wait, that’s for weddings isn’t it.”

The chairwoman stood, “Admiral Vir, What do you have to say for yourself.”

Before he could say anything Sunny cut in, “He’s being framed!”

The Tesraki counselor rose to his feet, “Lies, do you have proof?”

“Uh, well no.”

“YES!”

Adam turned to sunny, shook himself and turned back to the delegation, “Er YES!” he turned his head to look at Sunny, “We do/”

She stepped forward, “I have evidence that admiral Vir was being framed, framed by.” She turned and jabbed a finger at the Tesraki, “YOU.” He stepped back in shock, and a muttering rose up around them.

“How dare you.”

Sunny marched forward and past the guards, reaching up to hand something to the chairwoman, who took it and passed it to an assistant, who hurried over to insert the chip into their system.

A voice rose over the speakers, “Get out there, FIND HIM and make sure he doesn’t ruin this for me. If this all works out, by the end of the month I will be chairman of the GA, and the humans will simply be an afterthought.” said the Tesraki delegates voice.

Hundreds of eyes turned to look at him in open shock.

He stepped back hand raised, “I have no idea where this came from.

THe second Tesraki delegate stood a look of absolute rage on her face, “How could you!” she snapped, “How could you betray us like this.”

He stammered, “But he, he escaped prison, he killed the detective!”

Just then, the doors at the end of the room opened up and the Detective came waddling into the room looking miserable and nauseous, but very much alive. Following him Came the Tesraki detective, hauling an unconscious Kree in his wake, who he dumped on the floor as soon as he made it to the center.

The Tesraki was looking a little more worse for ware, his ear torn, green blood staining his fur

He raised a hand and pointed a finger at the delegate, “The Admiral is telling the truth, he was framed, and THIS TESRAKI threatened my department to do it. I was scared at first as my family is in grave peril but I couldn't stand by and watch a good man be framed for selfish reasons.” He turned to the delegation, “He is angry that the humans have taken so much Tesraki economic power, despite the fact that.” he turned an accusatory eye on the Tesraki, “The average citizen has never been so well off. Because of human tourism, we are thriving. The only one’s different are the corporations, and now this Tesraki would have it so we go back to the old days when the average citizen was poor and the elite ruled.”

Sunny nodded, “There is more to that recording. We tracked it by following the a spy who was charged with making tampered video footage to incriminate Admiral Vir. You know him, you know him as a human who has always worked for the betterment of the GA. There is no chance that he could have done anything lie what they are saying.

There was a pause in the crowd for a moment, and then Lord Celzex stood, “IT is as I said, Admiral Vir would never do such a crime, and we have no reason to believe he would start now.”

The Tesraki delegate snarled, though was almost immediately cold cocked in the face by the other Tesraki delegate as guards moved in from the sides of the room to detain the Tesraki and the Kree.

In the chaos Admiral Vir and Sunny were pushed to the side, pinned into a small corner.

She looked down at him, and he looked up at her.

“Thanks for having my back.”

She smiled, “no problem, I’ve decided I want to keep your around for a while.”

He grinned, “I hope you do.” He stretched up on the balls of his feet and she leaned down, their foreheads pressed against one another for a quick moment before disengaging and beng swept away on the tide of questions and confusion.

281 notes · View notes

lakemojave · 3 years

Text

Land of Falling Sun 6

It was too hot for the wanderer to travel.

He convinced Chipper, who was in high spirits and unbothered by the heat, to help him pitch a tent and rest. In their taloned feet they lifted the canvas while the wanderer staked it to the ground. While they hovered in the air, they scanned the horizon for nearby threats, and looked to the nearby town for any changes. There was nothing of particular interest. The group would be safe here, at least for the moment.

The wanderer took a seat under the tent, took off his hat, and shook the sweat out of his short hair with his hands. Chipper perched just outside, while Dog slowly circled the tent, forming a perimeter with its own eerie countenance.

Chipper had grown more comfortable around their companion. He was still withdrawn, still short, still grumpy, still rarely speaking unless spoken to, but he had a resolve and determination that made them feel safe around him. What exactly he was determined towards was still a mystery. Chipper had respected his privacy for the last few days, but their relentless curiosity was too much to hold off.

“So,” they asked, cautiously, “Think that’s where we’re headed?” They gestured towards the town in the distance. It was somewhat closer now, and the smoke tower had not stopped rising.

“That? Not sure.” The wanderer leaned on his back in the tent. “I don’t like the scent coming from that smoke.”

“Scent?” Chipper tilted their head.

“You don’t smell it too? It’s subtle, but there’s dead matter in that smoke. Just like--”

“The brush fire.”

“Exactly. Real nasty.” He seemed altogether unbothered by the foul smell, as if he was already used to it, or as if he knew it well.

“How do you recognize it?” When Chipper asked this, the wanderer’s eyes widened with anxiety, as though they touched on some secret he was not ready to share. Then, as quickly as his stress arrived, it left him, and he shared this secret.

“Seen a lot of funeral pyres in my day,” he began. “Mass burnings of the dead. Sometimes it’s just to get rid of em, lay the ashes down. But most of the time it’s ritual acts.” He leaned forward from his recline, and Chipper did as well out of curiosity. “Folks using the dead for magical means. Apparently with enough ash, smoke, or overcooked flesh you can do just about anything.”

“Did you ever do that?”

“Nah, it was mostly uh,” he hesitated before his next words, “Adversaries. People who wished me harm, or who I was tryin’ to pop myself.”

Chipper figured he had a violent past behind him, but was surprised by this nonetheless. Here it was. Time for the big question. “What did you do?” they asked. “You know...before?”

The wanderer took about ten seconds to decide not to lie.

“I was,” he began, “An outlaw of sorts. Ran with some guys who got a little too in over their heads. Good money for a while. Then they all got in over their heads, started spouting dreams about freedom and justice for all people. Or something like that, it was all bullshit anyway.”

Chipper looked concerned at first, then intrigued, then astonished. “Do you...do you not believe in those things? Justice for all people?” they asked timidly.

“Nah nah I of course I do,” the wanderer said. “I mean...who doesn’t?” Having rested, the wanderer started a fire, and put on a percolator with some coffee. He continued speaking while doing this. “I dunno. Not sure what I believe in over here. Those guys were full of shit though. Nothing but thieves and murderers all but convinced they were anything but thieves and murderers. I had to get out while I could.” “What was it like?” “Oh it was terrific. Loved those days.” He turned the percolator. “We were brothers, living free and sewing chaos in a world desperate to organize and scheme. We robbed banks, stages, trains, alchemists, army men, damn near everybody. We even got rich once, though it didn’t last long.”

“What happened?”

He paused and reflected. “I got shot in a robbery. That’s when I…” His wrist twitched with this, and the fire momentarily blazed, then returned to normal. Chipper regarded his blackened hand, but said nothing. The wanderer clutched his shoulder in pain, then returned to his story.

“Since then my eyes got weary and my hands got shaky. My shot’s gotten a bit sloppier since then, but I was the only one of us who could summon. Became the Work horse, as it were. All their talk started seeming like just that: talk. Left without a trace not long ago.” He finished abruptly.

Chipper was content with the extent of detail to which the wanderer delved into his past, but he touched on something even more curious to them. “So your magic,” they asked, “You’ve only just started? I kinda thought you were more...experienced?”

“...why?” The wanderer felt like he should be insulted.

“Well,” Chipper elaborated, “You use a knife, right? No guns, just knife, right?”

“Ditched my five shot at the river, yeah. Does it mattter?”

“I think so. Knives are popular with magic users, aren’t they?”

The wanderer thought about this, and drew his own knife, inspecting it. It was pretty plain: a wide-bladed hunting knife of blackened metal. He kept it sharp and smooth, perhaps the best kempt possession on his person. It had nothing to do with his magic, this he knew for certain. He had seen lots of practitioners with knives before--alchemists, sorcerers, witches, especially those who could summon--but it was always a simple means of self defence. At least, that’s what he thought.

“I guess I’ve noticed that, yeah.” As he flipped his blade, it seemed to make a more distinct noise than usual, as though slicing through the air around him. “Do you know anything about it?”

“A little,” they said. “My teachers said any practitioner needs to channel through something. Sometimes it’s written sigils,” they flexed their etched feathers as they said this, “Sometimes it’s tools or weapons. But I’ve only ever seen you use your freaky arm oil.”

The wanderer sighed. “It’s...from that shot. Hurt real bad, but now I can cast magic I guess. Lucky we stopped, I was starting to get sore.”

“Sore? You mean…”

The wanderer gazed at his bright young companion with pain, grief, and a pensiveness that conveyed thoughts of doom and dread. He took of his coat and vest and unbuttoned his shirt.

What Chipper saw was what they expected, but not what they were prepared for. His arm, up past his right elbow, was covered every inch by that black tar, several pitches darker than his natural skin. Creeping up to his shoulder and spiraling around a single point, which they took to be the site of the bullet wound, were tendrils of this tar. They swirled across his skin, seeming to blend in and scar the closer to his torso they got. Then, once they found the wound, his true condition became apparent all at once. Strands and tendrils and roots and scars of tar sprouted from this wound, traveling across the wanderer’s whole upper body. They wove and interlaced across his chest in a chaotic pattern of angles and spirals, occasionally breaking into a mazelike order and organization, and collapsing into the same mess just as easily. They crept up his neck to be just visible past where his jacket collar would be, and just past his left shoulder, as if beginning the conquest of his left arm as well. He took his left finger, and keeping eye contact with chipper, traced a thread on his chest, wincing in pain on contact with his own skin.

His own gift was killing him.

“I can’t go too long without Working. I’ve never stopped; too scared to find out what’ll happen if I do.”

“Oh…” Chipper said, their wonder and amazement at his natural gift quickly changing into concern and anxiety. “Is there um...anything we can do?”

“We?”

“Yeah, we.” They folded their wings, and gently bowed their head--a display of a pledge of service among their people. “I want to help you.”

“Lil fella,” he started, “You can’t…”

He wanted to push them away. He wanted to send this poor kid off on their way to some community they could live a normal life. He wanted to keep them safe from this wild unknown, the rough men who could be out here, but most of all, his own self.

He couldn’t. He had grown attached to them, and clearly they felt the same. He couldn’t pick Chipper up off the desert floor just to pass them on to someone else like an unwanted gift. He couldn’t even justify himself to them. You can’t help. Bullshit. As far as he knew, there was nothing this kid couldn’t do.

He sighed.

“Alright. We.” He bowed his own head, then reached for his shirt. “Think my coffee’s almost done. Want some?”

#land of falling sun #my writing

9 notes · View notes

vashak · 4 years

Text

Different worlds: Ash (1)

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

Originally posted on 3 June 2019 in Turkish here.

Previously, I wrote about what I thought of Ash’s father and now it’s time to delve into what kind of damage James caused to Ash’s mental state.

Content/trigger warning: This meta discusses child sexual abuse.

James Callenreese is a bad parent in every sense of the word, but unlike the Cape Cod police, he’s not so degenerate as to claim that a 7-year-old boy seduced his abuser. And Ash knows that his father doesn’t blame him for getting raped. This allows him to be confident in the knowledge that what his abusers were doing to him is wrong and that it’s not his own fault. That’s why Ash never takes the responsibility of the abuse he endured upon himself. Consequently, he never thinks that he “deserved” to be raped.

Ash: They’re no different from each other. One does it is a cheap hotel stinking of piss and the other under a down quilt. That’s about it, really.

Their eyes… are all empty. There’s nothing in there. It’s like you’re peeking into an empty dark room… Their eyes all look the same. And they all say the same thing… That I asked for it!

One day, I will make them pay for what they did!

Blanca (thinking): Fear and rage… When rage conquers fear, he turns into a cruel demonic beast…

Ash: Are you gonna tell baldy about this?

However, there is another incident that affected Ash just as much as getting raped and that is his first murder. Like I mentioned here, the adults who were responsible for Ash’s safety failed to protect him, and so Ash took matters into his own hands and killed his abuser to put an end to what he was doing to him. Obviously, 8-year-old Ash was the victim in this case and couldn’t be held responsible in any way for the killing. But his words to Eiji in the following scene tells us that he holds himself fully responsible.

What I mean is, whatever the reason, Ash simply admits to killing a person. He talks about this incident only once and only to Eiji with no “but”s or “because”s scattered in-between, just the facts. Why is this important? Because Ash thinks that he lost his innocence at that age when he killed his baseball coach and that his life took an irreversible turn as a result.

The official English version took some liberties with the translation in this scene. Here’s a more direct translation of what Ash says: I’m scared of myself. To think that I killed Shorter… I don’t even know how many people I killed until now. And I feel nothing. Nothing…

It is in this scene that we witness just how traumatic killing is for Ash. He’s crying because he came to realise that he’s slowly losing his human side. Deep down Ash feels like he has to pay for all the lives he took regardless of the circumstances. So he doesn’t think it’s even possible for him to lead a different, a more “normal” life, because he doesn’t see himself worthy of one in the first place.

I believe James is the root cause of why Ash came in with this toxic mindset. If there’s anything that caused Ash to get hurt more than his father’s negligence, it is his helplessness that Ash seems to forgive him for. Perhaps James didn’t blame his son for getting raped or told him that he deserved it, but we know that he called him a troublemaker.

I have this headcanon that I think kind of goes along with the canon… Maybe? Here it goes: James is overwhelmed with all the horrible stuff that happened to his son and he doesn’t know how to deal with it. He feels helpless and frustrated, and yells at Ash saying things like “Why does trouble always find you?” and “It’s as if you were born with a streak of bad luck.” And little Ash takes his father’s thoughtless rambling to heart.

Then, as we know, Ash is swept up in a life of crime and violence where he has to play by its relentless rules to survive another day. He suffers through all kinds of cruelty and abuse. He kills to defend himself and the members of his gang. But then, these killings for self-defence slowly become mass murders as we see with the “vendetta” with Arthur’s gang.

Contrary to Arthur, Ash has no desire to gain power and become a crime lord. He doesn’t see people around him as rivals or makes it his life’s ambition to destroy them. Ash only hunts because he is being hunted. Gang politics concern him only because he feels responsible for the safety of his gang members. Ash doesn’t want this kind of life. But we shouldn’t forget that Ash never knew a different kind of life, because he was never allowed to live differently. And Ash knows very well that he’s already in it too deep, so he thinks he’s condemned to live this life whether he wants it or not.

Naturally, this is a very destructive mindset. Eiji realizes early on that Ash has been caught up in this vicious cycle and tries to free him. He tells Ash, “You’re not a leopard. You can change your fate,” and later offers, “Come to Japan with me. You can do anything you want there.” Whenever Eiji suggests these possibilities Ash is always surprised at first. Like it’s simply inconceivable for him that another person would offer to guide him with only his well-being in mind. But these possibilities seem too far away to Ash. That’s why he smiles bitterly whenever Eiji brings up this conversation, but at the same time, he never outright rejects what Eiji is suggesting. Although it may seem like he’s doing that because he doesn’t want to hurt Eiji’s feelings, I feel like Ash actually allows himself to dream in those moments.

We all know the answer to the question “Why did Ash become so attached to Eiji?” To summarize, it’s because Eiji, being an outsider to Ash’s world, saw him as a person, as a friend who is around the same age as him, and because Eiji gave Ash a part of himself without expecting anything in return. Without realising, Eiji is calling out to the remnants of humanity in Ash. Eiji, who is often associated with birds and flying throughout the story, symbolizes freedom for Ash. So the fact that Ash grew so attached to Eiji actually reveals his desire to set his soul free, break with his past and seek atonement.

But the events that follow don’t align with Eiji’s wishful thinking at all. Trouble keeps following Ash and gradually threatens Eiji too. Ash realises after a while that Eiji is not only in danger but is directly being targeted by Ash’s enemies. And Eiji getting shot in the end is a cruel wake-up call for Ash.

As the lyrics of RED suggest, at that point Ash confronts with the “fact” that he was the reason Eiji almost died because he was too “selfish” to let him go (I don’t think that’s a fact nor that Ash was being selfish, but I assume that’s what Ash thought, so I put those words in quotes). And Blanca is not helping the situation at all.

If James is the reason why Ash thinks he will never be able to live a better life, Blanca is the one who literally engrained this mindset in Ash. Why? Different from all those assholes like Golzine who see Ash as a wild and beautiful beast or a disposable toy to be sold and used, Blanca is someone who Ash trusts and even he thinks it’s impossible for Ash to lead a normal life. (likely triggered by what happened in his own past). When Blanca first appears in the story, he tells Ash that “a rabbit and a lynx can never be friends.” Their world is different from ours, he means to say, which is exactly the opposite of all the things that Eiji was trying to make Ash believe.

On the other hand, Blanca understands Ash. That’s why he takes him to the hospital where Eiji is being treated so that Ash can say “sayonara” to him before the final showdown with the enemy. Seeing Eiji lying unconscious on the hospital bed is like a slap in the face for Ash. He’s once again confronted with how close he came to losing the most important person to him. So to keep Eiji safe, Ash decides never to see him again and he tells Blanca so later when they meet in Central Park. His monologue here reveals Ash’s inner turmoil between his desire to cling to the feelings Eiji sparked in him and his conviction that he’s not worthy of it at all.

Thinking of the story of Banana Fish as a whole, and especially the ending, it seems clear which side won…

…right?

Read the next part of the meta here.

#different worlds #another translated meta #so it may sound weird at times #banana fish #ash lynx #banana fish manga #meta #analiz #yorum #english #banana fish türkçe #şekerli

120 notes · View notes

wordsablaze · 4 years

Text

Unspoken

If there's one thing Jaskier truly has in life, it's his ability to use words. And although he knows there are a lot of things that can comfortably go unspoken, he himself is not one of them; without his words, Jaskier would be all but unborn.

A/N: this is my 100th fanfic, which is just crazy, and i think jaskier deserves to be the focus of this milestone as he's inspired so much of my writing lately, so here's a whole lotta lowercase angst <3

jaskier is unborn

and he is unspoken

because his parents had never considered having a child, never considered even being capable of having a child

but none of them have a choice in the matter because he is destined to be brought into the world and it is finally his time.

jaskier is born

and he is quiet murmurs

because that’s all his mother and father can afford in fear of being discovered or captured or imprisoned

and because they know that they will never be able to give their child a life worthy of how precious he is to them.

jaskier is one

and he is intermittent wails

because babies need endless love but his parents are far too busy trying not to be caught to give enough of it to him,

because all he wants is to be heard and held and helped but more often than not, he is simply hushed in fear of being hunted.

jaskier is two

and he is monosyllabic mumbles

because he knows that the women around him aren’t his parents but he doesn’t know who exactly they are

and he wants to ask them but they don’t understand and they keep distracting him with food and music and he so easily forgets his questions.

jaskier is three

and he is hushed mutterings

because he is trying so hard to talk just like everyone around him

but all they do is tell him to be quiet, to make sure nobody is disturbed by him, to act as if he is a grown up and not an annoying child.

jaskier is four

and he is excited shouts

because he is young and wild and he is learning so much about the world and its beauty

even if people are constantly telling him not to make a mess or cause a fuss or generally remind anyone of the wilderness steadily growing inside him.

jaskier is five

and he is bold questions

because he runs off and finds a man who holds wood but makes sound and he is so, so excited to learn how to do the same

but then someone else finds him and all he is left asking is why his mother and father won’t let him go outside.

jaskier is six

and he is hidden cries

because no, he can’t have an extra bread roll for after dinner and no, he can’t take another slice of cake for the new friend he’s not supposed to have,

and he is so sad about it but he knows that being heard is only going to make things worse.

jaskier is seven

and he is confused moans

because his head aches and his stomach burns and his eyes hurt and he doesn’t know what’s happening

but nobody tells him that he was ill until after he’s recovered because they’d all thought he was dying and hadn’t seen the point in wasting their time on him.

jaskier is eight

and he is angry yells

because he wants to go and see the girl with the instruments but his teachers keep telling him he needs to learn about his history instead

and he really doesn’t see the point in learning about dead people when the ones he can see from the window make him feel so alive.

jaskier is nine

and he is wistful demands

because he really does want to play with his siblings like everyone keeps telling him to

but none of them want to play with him in return and he doesn’t know what he’s meant to do about that.

jaskier is ten

and he is unapologetic arguments

because all he wants to do is play his lute but his mother keeps telling him he shouldn’t

and his father looks at him as if he’s become a monster when he says he doesn’t want to be like everyone else in their boring house.

jaskier is eleven

and he is desperate pleas

because he has heard about the harsh ways of temple schools and he doesn’t want to go

even though a small part of him thinks it might be better than being forced to act like some kind of decoration in order to always please their guests.

jaskier is twelve

and he is hesitant singing

because he loves figuring out how to match his music to the words in his head that beg to be written out on paper

but it seems that other boys just want to learn about the deadliest weapons and he’s not very good at those if his numerous trips to healers have anything to say about it.

jaskier is thirteen

and he is stifled sobs

because sometimes learning is painful and not learning fast enough is even more painful

and being quiet when getting punished is apparently just another thing that he has to learn if he wants to do well in life.

jaskier is fourteen

and he is snide remarks

because his words are the only defence he has and he’s not about to back down from any kind of fight

even if that means the tears his opponents may shed are met with blood on his end, even if that means he also has to get used to running and hiding.

jaskier is fifteen

and he is careless laughter

because his musical skills give him freedom, the only kind of freedom he truly has and can ever have,

and he no longer wants to waste his time competing with his classmates when there’s a world of adventure out there, waiting to be claimed.

jaskier is sixteen

and he is anguished sighs

because the boy he so foolishly gave his heart to has left him behind for someone who was less of a nuisance

but he doesn’t understand what he’d done wrong and he can’t share his sadness with anyone lest they make fun of him.

jaskier is seventeen

and he is poetic lies

because he needs to leave and he needs to leave as soon as possible and he has learned the hard way that truth gets him nowhere

so he builds himself a falsehood and he abandons nobility without a second thought, without even once looking back.

jaskier is eighteen

and he is optimistic narrations

because the world can be rather plain and it takes time to convince people that there’s more to life than simply getting by

but it’s not an easy task and being pessimistic would essentially be the equivalent of giving up before truly beginning.

jaskier is eighteen

and he is flirtatious compliments

because more often than not, his audiences find his performance appealing for more than one reason

and if it puts a roof over his head or gives him ideas for new ballads, then he really doesn’t mind the different kinds of attention he receives.

jaskier is eighteen

and he is awkward observations

because there is a beautiful witcher in his tavern and he wants nothing more than to get to know him

even if that means embarrassing himself in the process of gaining both bruises and a consistent friend.

jaskier is eighteen

and he is ambitious vows

because he has learnt that the tales of witchers from his teachers were all wrong and he can’t stop himself from needing to fix that,

no matter how many times they have to be thrown out of taverns and towns in the process.

jaskier is eighteen

and he is relentless ramblings

because geralt has something of an allergy to words and rarely replies with more than half a sentence

but he doesn’t mind because he finally has the chance to talk and talk and talk without being locked away inside a room too small to contain all of his thoughts.

jaskier is eighteen

and he is muffled screams

because gods does it hurt to be hit or stung or bitten or scratched by their latest contracts, but he doesn’t want to alarm geralt or slow him down

and he’s well-versed in how to treat his own wounds thanks to everyone who tried to stop him from being himself in the past.

jaskier is eighteen

and he is midnight whispers

because witchers don’t think they’re loveable and he so dearly wants to change that

even if it means repeating himself over and over under the moonlight until he’s met with a small smile and given something like trust.

jaskier is eighteen

and he is isolated comments

because he knows he should no longer still be eighteen

but he is afraid that saying so to anyone else will result in him being at the wrong end of a witcher’s silver sword.

jaskier is eighteen

and he is exasperated groans

because yennefer might be beautiful but she is a beautiful sort of poison and he really wants nothing to do with her

but it’s just his luck that the man he loves wants everything to do with her, so much so that he all but ruins their lives because of it.

jaskier is eighteen

and he is mirthful jokes

because there is a powerful young princess who needs to be entertained and he is good at making bargains with even the sharpest of rulers

but even he is not brave enough to tell her what her grandmother wishes never to speak of so he sticks to just making sure she’s okay.

jaskier is eighteen

and he is pained curses

because it turns out dragons are so much more of a mess than he’d signed up for

and actually, he’d never signed up for them in the first place so losing his muse is one thing he shouldn’t actually blame on himself.

jaskier is eighteen

and he is hollow bargains

because he truly no longer cares what he has to trade in order to ensure he survives to see another day

and it really doesn’t matter to him what happens as long as he can carry on performing.

jaskier is eighteen

and he is unstoppable shrieks

because there is a merciless army out hunting for the people he spent so long loving

but they have little patience for his honesty and they have even less patience for the fabricated nonsense that spills from him when the agony becomes too loud.

jaskier is eighteen

and he is broken howls

because it hurts to inhale and it hurts to exhale and it hurts to even exist at all

and the worst part is that he knows he will be forgotten and he will never have been important and he will have failed.

jaskier is eighteen

and he is desperate babbling

because mages are far worse than he’d ever thought they could be and they have so many different ways to break people

and in the end, the easiest way to break him is to take away the one thing he has left to lose, the one thing that makes him who he is.

jaskier is eighteen

and he is soft whimpers

because the information he would never reveal truly has no way of being made available anymore

and there is nothing left for him to do but wait for everyone to get bored of how useless he is to them.

jaskier is eighteen

and he is surprised breaths

because he had assumed he would die before seeing daylight again but he wakes up to three sets of very concerned eyes,

all of which never stop staring at him as if he is weak and fragile and nothing like the versions of him they didn’t want to keep.

jaskier is eighteen

and he is internal confessions

because he’s more than glad to know that the people he cares for are still alive

but his language of love has always been verbal and it turns out he can no longer speak it, or anything else for that matter.

jaskier is

and jaskier is not

for jaskier lost himself somewhere amidst being eighteen,

and jaskier has no words

so he has circled all the way back to being unborn

and he is forever

unspoken.

thanks for reading !! masterlist | witcher blog: @itsjaskier

37 notes · View notes

phantomphangphucker · 5 years

Text

Time’s A Game That Plays Us All

ClockWork sees all the plays that can be taken, then substitutes their own. And Danny’s always been their king.

Using the tropes: Play-Along Prisoner and Take A Third Option

There’s a legend of old, from a long time ago. Something you could find if you flipped through a ghost hunters book selection. Having been written about in the first incarnation of the Hunter’s Wisdom Essentials Guide Book, still remaining largely unchanged outside of language from this original copy, in every subsequent edition. This legend so vital that the creature behind it was listed as a co-author in the book itself. If you asked any ghost hunter why, they’d say it was obvious, much of the information came from this creature. Their work, their profession, was spurred by the very same creature.

See back in the day, before ghost hunting, before any knowledge of ghosts, there had always been stories and rumours of strange glowing creatures. Some humanoid, some animalistic. They caused havoc or skittishly avoided the humans, though most wrote them off as visions or the ravings of the mad/ill. That is except for a select few, eventually anyway. The select few who knew, came to know, when a small little creature who held age in their eyes yet the form of a small buck-toothed child made their presence known to these select few. The first being Galvion Ingride Whitefoot, Adrian G. Groove -ever followed by an albino tiger-, Exterian Slav Break, and Josephine D. Fetonightingal. Of course they had all known each other, to some degree. Met on occasions, even if their respective families grew apart to the point where eventual modern relatives were unawares. But together they had written the first edition of the Hunter’s Wisdom Essentials Guide Book, after the glowing floating child -with no legs to speak of- had offered their hand and words. Had spoken of another world, filled with creatures of wonder and horror much the same as the creature themselves. Had told them of the nature of these creatures' existence, the dead yet given ‘life’ anew. How they had pointed where they needed to go to find such similar creatures in their living world. Allowed them to witness the power these creatures could wield and how to protect against it.

At first all had questioned the small, well-spoken and mild-mannered creature; and of course they contained/trapped it as best they could. Why would they tell them such things? Give them tools to fight or defend? But they learned that this one, who used their dark purple cloak to hide, instead of invisibility. How they floated around not through things. How they never fired off one of those ecto-blasts, as they said they were called. They all came to realise that this creature did not possess the abilities of the others. And not only that, but none of the other creatures seemed to know the child-like ones’ name; yet they often knew each other’s. These four also noted how every creature they encountered seemed to represent something: sleep, plants, weather, water, electricity, and so on.

Leaving them all to come to the conclusion that this blue-skinned one, with their words of guidance, represented humanity's defence against these creatures. That they were nature’s way of defending her living children and revealing, through the presence of this weak yet wise creature, who would do it best. It was also decided that the strange ticking thing in the ghost's chest represented the growth and time needed to develop and guide a new ghost hunter. Every human who saw this creature, captured it, came to these very same conclusions; and as the story goes, as soon as they did, that very creature would appear with their soft smile and crimson eyes and tell them the name of these creatures they were to fight ‘ghosts’. Then they’d be seen no more. This final appearance came to be seen as the universes seal of approval for the ghost hunter. Their graduation from a young apprentice, learning their role in the world, to ghost hunter in true; and every single one would go on to be masters of their craft, pioneers.

Of course, in the many years that followed, not every ghost hunter saw and caught this small wise ghost, but every single one that did went on to be influential. Those that didn’t, regardless of drive, never seemed to stick with the field, never excelled at creating their own weapons, never made any new discoveries. So it was something of an understood truth that this ghost knew who would make a good true ghost hunter, and simply did not waste their time with any others.

For Jack Fenton, he had seen the ghost in his early youth, had learned everything with wild abandon. Of course his family had always known of ghosts and of the legend, to say they had been ecstatic when Jack claimed to have captured the ghost, would be an understatement.

Maddie Fenton, on the other hand, met this ghost only shortly before meeting Jack. But the knowledge the small ghost gave seemed so obvious to her, so right. Meeting Jack had been easy and obvious after that. The two lovers had felt a little bad for their friend Vlad, having never seen or heard of this ghost. But they knew even those not chosen could be good ghost hunters, and who were they to reject someone’s passion? Though neither was truly surprised when he seemingly dropped out of the ecto-field all together, especially with the accident. Though Maddie’s pretty sure she saw him flipping through a Hunter’s Wisdom Essentials Guide Book and scoffing at the small ghost, muttering that clearly this little ghost was nothing but a silly myth.

And now, Jack finds himself flipping through his Fenton family edition of the Hunter’s Wisdom Essentials Guide Book, smiling fondly and reminiscing slightly over the sketch of the old wise ghost. Though frowning slightly as he traces the scar on the ghosts face. He remembers asking how that happened, after all it was known that he did not use to have it. The only answer he had ever gotten was ‘such is the marks of old beasts that watch, the foolish and power-mad who can not tolerate what they can not control’. Jack gathers it was from another ghost, one who somehow knew of and how to find the small ghost that no others seemed to.

He turns his head and smiles as his wife sits down. Maddie looking at the book and smiling herself, speaking quietly, “wonder if either of the kids will see him”.

Jack chuckles, “surely one will! At least one Fenton child always does. Heck! Both me and my brother did”.

Maddie giggles slightly and nods before frowning a little, “I do worry though Jack dear. Neither seem to have any interest. In fact, they almost seem put-off”.

“I wouldn’t give up faith yet Mads. You certainly had no interest when you were their age after all!”.

Maddie giggles and nods, silently joining her husband in flipping trough the heirlooms pages.

ClockWork watches the interaction through one of many viewing portals, smiling ever so slightly. Turning their head to another, watching Daniel teasing and insulting Walker before flying lazily home.

Everything had worked out as it should. Everyone was where and who they needed to be. And yet there was a roadblock. A problem. Daniel’s skill at lying and hiding was a much-needed one, a true necessity. But even a fool could see the rift it caused and how it blocked the future of progress.

Ghost hunters, though needed for their purposes, had become advanced enough to pose threats. Not just to single ghosts, but every ghost, the world even. Such a level of advancement was needed of course, had resulted in Phantom. But now, the Observants were nervous, many ghosts were. Enough so that the Zone itself was being affected by all the negative emotions. That wouldn’t change if change didn’t happen. ClockWork chuckles over such phrasing, they had a plan of course, always did. Ghost hunters needed to change, their opinions needed to change. It had to come from the influential of course, not from ClockWork themselves, that wasn’t their purpose. They were a guider not a symbol of change. No, that was Phantom’s place, Daniel’s place.

Phantom couldn’t be exposed yet, not quite, but the forming rift with his parents would cause issues if it continues to grow before the day came for them to know exactly who and what Daniel was.

Looking back to the portal with the two parents, this provided an opportunity of sorts. ClockWork knows that while they look at this scene, the book, with a slight smile the Observants instead frown. More than a little displeased with ClockWork’s past decision.

See ClockWork always has some plan or another, some idea for the future. That was part of their purpose after all. So of course they did back when humans had first come into existence in genuine, started making the world their bitch so to speak. All the other ghosts at the time, ClockWork’s fellow Ancients, firmly refused the idea that these weak fleshy creatures would ever pose any kind of threat to them. They existed in two different dimensions, sure there were occasionally natural portals between the two planes but all the other mortal creatures never paid any mind to any ghosts causing mischief or hanging about; why would these ‘humans’ be any different.

ClockWork knew better, saw better; so they acted better. Humans would know of ghosts, of course they would, there was no possible future where they would not. And humans were egotistical creatures, things that would steamroll over all other species they could. They also would grow to have a never-ending love for knowledge, that was something ClockWork could appreciate; feel fond of.

So while the other ghosts dismissed these humans ClockWork made plans, made themselves known to the humans. The other ghosts that even knew of ClockWork were uneasy with this but even back then no one questioned ClockWork, well...besides those foolish Observants; who thankfully did not yet exist.

ClockWork appeared to them with careful forethought, let the human capture them, and the knowledge that there really was only two options. Neither of which ClockWork paid any mind. Though fine, technically humans could be blocked out from knowing about ghosts, eliminate any who truly became knowledgable; ClockWork could certainly do that, but that would be far less interesting.

So either humans would know and live in fear, or they would know and come to make it impossible for new earth ghosts to be formed. Both options would make halfas impossible, coexistence impossible. So ClockWork hardly considered them actual options.

Instead letting humans know ghosts, but with the added effect of appealing to their pride. The human belief that they where the top species. That they could crush anything. Simply by showing them weaker ghosts, by altering natural ghost portals, by appearing to them as a guiding hand and without their staff visible, by allowing themselves to be seen as ‘trapped’. And so ClockWork became the stuff of legends to them, and an utter unknown to ghosts; excluding those eyeballs of course.

And why did they exist? The Observants? Well, because their fellow Ancients felt there needed to be overseers, never knowing they already had one in ClockWork. Leaving them with more decisions to make, plans to enact. Of course these knew ghosts would know of ClockWork, be insulted and fearful of the master of time’s power. All beings fear the powerful that they can not control. So these new ghosts would try to control ClockWork, try to force their hand, try to remove or alter them. The Observants, like all creatures, would have motives of their own; would lack objectivity. So either ClockWork was to find a way to hide from them or accept their future actions towards them. Or ClockWork could interfere, alter them to ClockWork’s own design. Bar them from being able to act, from being able to harm. They would be watchers and watchers only. The ghosts would get what they want, and ClockWork would do as ClockWork pleases. Sure ClockWork could just stop them from successfully creating the Observants at all, but where’s the fun in that? Plus, annoying them would become a beloved past time.

So ClockWork lets the other ghosts see these Observants as all powerful overseers; as judge, jury and executioner. Let the Observants fool themselves too. Sure they had enough power to lock up any ghosts that ClockWork, unknowingly to them, let them lock up. But ClockWork would stand as the only executioner, and they knew that.

This decision also helped ClockWork remain an unknown to other ghosts, the Observants didn’t want their lack of power, lack of ability to act, known; and ClockWork was the proof of that. But since ClockWork exists in every different possible future there was, the Observants could never truly control who knew and who didn’t. Only ClockWork could, simply manipulate toward the future they wanted in such a way that the Observants couldn’t so much as object beyond complaining pointlessly.

Smirking at the viewing portal as the two parents head to the lab, it was showtime. ClockWork never appeared to ghost hunters after they finished their apprenticeship, humans need to bloom and blossom of their own accord; else you hurt their egos. But rules were there to be broken and rules couldn’t hold ClockWork. In short, they were a dirty little cheater.

Jack’s leaning over a microscope while Maddie jerks up and gapes, absentmindedly pushing the button to activate the ghost containment cell right where the familiar purple-cloaked ghost floated. She knew shapeshifting ghosts existed and both her and Jack’s time with him was long past. This couldn’t possibly be? Could it? She speaks softly while the ghost just floats there with a soft smirk, “Jack dear, I think you should look at this”.

Jack looks up, a bit caught off guard by his wife’s cautious but awed tone. He promptly drops the slide he was holding, it shattering as it hits the ground, “you? but it can’t be. Why?”.

ClockWork grins, and gives their typical half-truths, “oh I’m not here to play guide for you. I’ve merely made use of the weakened veil here”, gesturing to the Fenton portal, “that is why you find me here”.

Maddie tilts her head, this was clearly not a fake, “we always just thought you stayed in the mortal world somehow or travelled through natural portals”.

“Not all means bare the same outcomes”, ClockWork glances at the stairs, “and maybe you ought research through more wandering means. You might find something interesting”.

Maddie squints slightly, “and what are you going to do. You never need to go through such indirect means to get to new hunters”.

ClockWork smiles, of course this confrontation was completely avoidable but they had a test to give, “you’ll understand in time. There are plenty of paths one could take. Most often the path I point along is walked with me alone. But every so often that road must open to accommodate fellow travellers”.

Maddie and Jack exchange a look before Jack gets up, asking with barely contained excitement, “are you saying we get to help who your guiding! Oh this is so awesome Mads!”.

ClockWork smiles as the two head up the stairs, “we’ll see how the road forks. They’ll find me, no worries about the shield”. Maddie squints back at them, clearly wondering how whoever was going to find them but deciding that they hardly could do harm in the shield and were trustable enough to leave alone. Unaware they could simply teleport out.

Ten minutes later Danny comes home and phases through the ceiling invisibly to empty his thermos, only to pause and gape slightly before chuckling and shaking his head at spotting ClockWork inside the ghost containment cell. Emptying the thermos as he speaks, “hey CW, um why? Not that I’m questioning your ways, but I’m questioning your ways”.

ClockWork floats towards him, separated only by the shield while Danny transforms back human. ClockWork speaking with a slight smile, “you’re mortal guardians are as paranoid as expected to the appearance of ghosts, even those they think fondly of”.

Danny blinks and jerks slightly, “wait, my parents know you? ‘Think fondly’ of you?”, Danny’s not surprised his folks would trap some ghost in the containment cell, that was literally the point. And it’s not like ClockWork actually needed help getting out.

ClockWork gives a slow nod, “but of course. Many ghost hunters do”.

“Why???”.

“The same reason I involve myself in anyone’s existence, to guide them on their path”.

Danny shakes his head, this was a little absurd, “so you’ve been responsible for people becoming hunters? Why would you do that? Wouldn’t it be better for the people that want to obliterate and tear apart molecule by molecule, every ghost, not to know things?”.

ClockWork holds up a hand and gestures around, “dealing with such things, with antagonism, strengthens us and our defences. Of course, only to so many degrees. With humans, we’ve always had two options, bar the mortals from knowing of ghosts or have them know but fear our power. I merely ensured they’d instead believed they could face us in might”.

Danny snorts and rolls his eyes a little, “so you let them believe a lie?”, shrugging, “and fine, if anyone knows that fighting and experiencing all the ways people can come up to hurt you, can make you stronger; then it’s me”.

ClockWork sticks up a finger, “indeed you do, and I let you believe your family would die; lies have their benefits”.

Danny glares slightly, “that was low”.

ClockWork completely dismisses his displeasure, “good truths are always low blows”, smiling slightly, “besides, how better to control who gets to be a hunter and harvest a collection of apprentices”.

Danny blinks at that, “wait, what?”.

ClockWork smirks, Danny could be hard to really surprise or confuse nowadays, “how do you think any of them know anything about ghosts? I’m a wise fellow”, ClockWork gestures to the ghost shield.

Danny blinks at them, “oh my Ancients. Do you just let hunters capture you to teach them random things?”, sure Danny had done the dumbshit and let his folks capture him but they were his parents, family, it was different.

ClockWork just responds like this was perfectly reasonable and expected. “precisely”.

Danny facepalms, speaking with slight humour though, “my guardian is an idiot”.

ClockWork waves him off, “oh hardly, I always know the outcomes. Plus it’s high time your family knows your guardian”, Danny instantly looks rather panicked and disbelieving, so ClockWork continues, “they won’t be bothered, in fact, they’ll find it quite the good sign. A sign you’ll be a ‘helpful’ spector, seeing as they believe you’ll be a ghost”.

Now Danny’s gaping again, “excuse?”.

“Daniel, you set off their detectors and literally can’t be de-ecto-contaminated. Of course, they think you’re going to become a ghost”.

Danny throws his hands out to the side and walks in a little circle, “well that’s news to me”.

“They don’t mention it because they don’t want to scare you”, floating to follow Danny as he walks around the room a little and holding up a finger, “but now you can get them to open up through revealing you at least know the same, without giving away that you know because you already are”, smirking, “thanks to a helpful guardian”.

Danny blinks, realising this’ll pretty much get him off the hook for tons of weird ghostly shit, “you sneaky bastard”. ClockWork gives a devilish grin just before Maddie and Jack come down the stairs.

Jack beams, thinking back on the earlier words of the tiny ghost, “Danny-boy! So you’ve seen the little guy!”, walking up and patting Danny on the shoulder, who just looks confused and a bit freaked out. While Jack keeps talking, hopefully explaining this particular ghost will make his rather ghost fearing son less seemingly freaked, “this one’s the spirit of hunters! Our profession! Always appears before and guides those destined to be hunters! This is great!”, wiping a tear from his eye, “my boy’s gonna be a fine hunter”.

Danny has to hold back a laugh at calling ClockWork ‘the spirit of hunters’ while also deciding to not jump the gun on what his parents actually know about ClockWork, “er and what do you call them?”, Danny deadpanning, “if you say ‘Hunter’ I will be deeply disappointed”.

Maddie shakes her head with a smile, “don't be silly sweetie, this is an important day in your destiny of being a ghost hunter”, smiling at the tiny spirit, “we call him Herne”. Jack butts in, “which is why the name means mythical hunter!”, smiling some, “even if he’s a tiny thing with no abilities to actually hurt anyone with”.

Danny looks at ClockWork, firmly realising humans know goddamn nothing about them. Maybe they weren’t too much of an idiot. Flicking his eyes back to his parents, “no abilities?”.

Jack nods, surely this ghost being weaker will ease his son up some, “being able to form and float is really all he can do”, smiling at the little ghost, “not that that matters, he’s a wise little guy”.

ClockWork chuckles, “yes, foresight and a keen mind makes up for much. Doesn’t it”, holding up a hand, “but I am here for a different reason of sorts”.

Danny’s instantly nervous as his parents look ClockWork with confusion and slight caution.

Jack and Maddie exchange a glance, surely this explained the strange way the little ghost had appeared. Why they caught the ghost and not Danny. Maddie asking, “his paths a little different, isn’t it?”. While Jack frowns slightly, “is he not going to be a hunter?”.

ClockWork smiles softly, “to you I am but a giver of wisdom and guidance, a mentor of sorts and a hand to point in the right direction”, turning to Danny and smiling, while Danny just looks nervous as ClockWork continues, “but to him I am guardian. A mentor in truth and spiritual parent of sorts, for a young little ghost”. Danny does his damnedest to not outwardly cringe over being point-blank called a ghost by a ghost, in front of his parents.

Jack and Maddie go a little wide-eyed before smiling again, Jack beaming at ClockWork, “that’s great! So he’ll be like you then!?! A guiding spirit, rather than like all those malicious ghosts!”, Jack taps his chin, “though that still doesn’t explain why we needed to be seeing you again”.

While Maddie looks more softly at Danny and holds her hands to her chest then, picking up that he seemed a bit nervous but not exactly surprised, “and you’re alright knowing this? That you’ll be a ghost some day? You don’t seem all that surprised”.

Danny rubs his neck, “heh, well I mean, half your stuff already calls me one and all that”. ClockWork thankfully takes mercy on him and adds in, “and after all, we have met before”.

Maddie and Jack both blink at Danny, Jack instantly asking, “well why didn’t you say so Danny-boy?!?”. Though Maddie clues in that Danny not telling them about this was exactly why Herne showed up to them. He decided that they needed to know about this, likely for Danny’s future development. Which means that Danny likely wouldn’t have told them on his own.

Danny glances at ClockWork and gives them the stink-eye, officially not very thankful. Before looking back to his parents, “well, you’ve never actually talked nice about any ghost. And I didn’t want to get into an argument about them”, rubbing his neck a bit and knowing his folks will be a little more than not happy about this in one regard anyway, “they saved my life after all, so it would bug me someone talking bad about them”.

Both of them instantly look to ClockWork, practically beaming at the ghost though fretting over their son even needing his life saved. Maddie nodding at them, “thank you. If we weren’t already on good terms, we would be now”.

Jack throwing an arm around Danny and hugging him a bit protectively, “but what could have put his life in danger? Especially in a way for you to be saving him?”.

Maddie nods and looks a little sheepish, “you’re not exactly a powerful one”.

Danny sends ClockWork a bit of a pleading look because his folks calling basically the strongest ghost ever 'weak', was too absurd and funny for him to not eventually break down laughing over.

ClockWork eyes the ghost shield they’re ‘trapped’ behind, wondering which path the two will take. Trust them and let the shield down or hold on to their ghost bigotry and keep it up. Be the first to really be around them without them being captured in some device or shield. Smirking slightly as Jack, noticing ClockWork’s eyeballing of the shield, promptly deactivates it. ClockWork floats over to pat Danny’s head before turning to the two parents, ClockWork speaking while Danny’s a bit in shock from his parents actually smiling over a ghost touching him, “indeed, there are some ghosts who fear other ghosts with influence. Seek to get rid of them before they can gain said influence”.

Danny knows damn well ‘influence’ is just a subtle way to say ‘powerful’. And he’s also feeling a slightly renewed distaste for the Observants.

Maddie scoffs, “of course those spooks would dislike any ghost,”, glancing at Danny, “or ghosts, that help humans”.

Jack taps his chin, looking to ClockWork, “I imagine these ghosts can’t destroy ones like you?”, looking at Maddie before looking back to ClockWork, “we always thought you avoided being harmed or bothered by other ghosts by simply being unknown to them”.

ClockWork chuckles, “most don’t know of me. But there are other reasons”, looking to Danny, “and they’re welcome to really know me, Daniel. It would be rather mean to have your mortal family not know your ghostly one”.

Danny tilts his head back, “oh thank Ancients”, though he knows damn well ClockWork isn’t fine with them knowing because it would be ‘mean’ otherwise.

ClockWork smirks, “no need to thank me”, Danny makes a face at them for that before chuckling.

Jack smiles, “well I’m glad you have similar humour!”, looking at the little spirit and tilting his head some, “are you saying we don’t know everything about you? That we’re missing a lot?”.

Maddie smiles sweetly at Jack, “Jack dear, he’s never so much as told us if he has a real name. It is expected”.

Danny shakes his head, “I'm kind of amazed you trust them at all then”.

Maddie ruffles Danny’s hair, “well, he is why we are hunters really and he’s harmless”.

Danny chuckles and eyes ClockWork, who nods, “you can tell them much of what you know of me”, smirking mischievously, “I encourage it in fact”.

Danny squints at them and chuckles, “you just want to enjoy causing confusion and startling them”.

ClockWork nods with a slight smile, speaking almost cruelly, “and piss off the Observants, of course”.

Danny blinks and turns fully to them, “you really did just name drop them huh?”, turning back to his parents and rubbing his neck, “Observants, those are the ghosts that tried to ‘get rid of me’”.

Jack scowls, “well we hate them then”.

ClockWork nods, “good, now you’ll never help them”. ClockWork doesn’t need their viewing portals to see the Observants shrieking in annoyance and trashing five different plots to restrict multiple different ghosts.

Danny squints at them, “do you always have to have five different reasons for doing things?”, shaking his head and looking back to his parents and gesturing his arms out to ClockWork, “this is weird but, um, this is ClockWork and they are not even kind of close to the definition of weak or harmless”.

Maddie tilts her head at ClockWork then Danny, “but we’ve scanned him, them, nothing but floating really”. While Jack beams and tries out the name ‘ClockWork’ a few times before asking, “does your name have any meaning?!? Ghost’s names often do”.

Danny squints at ClockWork, Danny knows how he himself tricked their scanners but ClockWork was a full ghost, “how did you even pull that off?”, Danny squints more and really looks ClockWork over before facepalming, “your staff?”. ClockWork’s power was focused in their staff after all.

ClockWork grins and summons their staff, making Maddie blink and get slightly closer to look the staff over quickly; though never actually touching it, “oh! You do actually have some kind of weapon”.

While ClockWork nods at Maddie, “yes and no, this is much more a conduit than a weapon. I do have a scythe as well though”, Danny can’t help but chuckle at that a little; full well knowing that weapon was used exclusively for reaping ghosts that needed to be removed, which was a bit hilarious. While ClockWork promptly startles both of the parents by suddenly changing into their adult form, speaking while they gape at the ghost they only ever knew as a small child-like ghost, “as for my name, it indeed holds plenty meaning. It is, after all, my job and purpose to ensure that the hands on the universe's clock go round and round, until oblivion can no longer be chased off”.

Danny chuckles and shakes his head at ClockWork, who changes to the form of an old man. Danny speaking to his parents, “they mean time control, guys. The very fabric of time is basically theirs to bend and alter”, rolling his hand, “add in being able to see all of the past, present, and every future possible”, looking at ClockWork, “they’re arguably one of the most powerful ghosts there is, not to mention oldest”.

The two adults raise their eyebrows a bit at ClockWork who nods ever so slightly, “I’ve been around since the beginning, guiding the universe along on its most lengthy path. Watching everything grow along exactly as its supposed to be. Of course that also means I plan when each being eventually stops and falls, guide them to when it is best they be destroyed”.

Maddie mutters a bit startled and less than pleased, “so you’re more neutral than good, less altruistic and more manipulative”.

Danny instantly shakes his head, “no, they’re just more altruistic on a universal scale, the bigger picture kind of thing. A true neutral, completely objective, I guess”.

ClockWork nods and speaks while patting Danny’s head, “precisely”, sending the parents a small smile, “I have no interests towards ghosts, nor humans, nor earth; but rather existence and time itself”, chuckling a little and side-eyeing Danny slightly, “and I must say, I’ve certainly pushed and pulled many a thing to ensure Daniel exists precisely as he does and will”.

Jack blinks at Danny and pats him on the shoulder, “is he really going to be that important?”, chuckling at Danny, “no pressure son”.

Danny barely stops himself for muttering ‘too late’ and instead just nods slightly. While Maddie’s releasing that this ghost can’t truly be trusted, humans were not where their priorities lay. But that they absolutely did have her son's survival? benefit? well-being? happiness? -well, maybe not that last one. Something tells her that ClockWork would harm or traumatise anyone for the sake of the universe- at their metaphorical heart.

ClockWork smirks, “that is for time to know and the world to see. But if you must know, him simply existing as he does has saved the world more than once”. Danny has to resist cringing at that, seeing as they were pretty effectively leaving out him causing it once.

Jack beams at that, his boy was already doing good! Somehow. Promptly hugging Danny, “good for you Danny-boy! Though I wonder how you managed that?”.

Everyone looks to ClockWork then, full well knowing they know exactly how. They simply smirk, “now that would be telling, wouldn’t it. The simplest of things can change everything, even picking up a rock verses not, could alter everything. Even how much someone knows or doesn’t, can”.

Danny chuckles a little fondly, which his parents definitely pick up on, while Danny speaks, “you’re always an enigma huh”.

Jack and Maddie smile a little fondly, though feeling like outsiders a bit as the two seem to one-up each other in sounding confusing. They both knew their boy was a bit odd, an enigma, so clearly they were two of a kind. That makes it clear Danny’s future lied with this ghost, rather than their profession; whatever that actually meant. Maddie decides to push that, he’s their boy, they should know what his job/future was/would be. Looking at ClockWork, “you’ve still got a way with words, but what are you even guiding Danny with?”.

ClockWork gives both the honest answer and the most confusing one, “everything and nothing. The same as that which you do, except with less restraints and a finger in every pie”, smiling at Danny, “a Guardian has the role of parent when dealing with ghosts”.

Jack’s a bit confused but that’s pretty come-by, “but ghosts don’t need to be taught how to ghost?”.

Maddie shakes her head slightly and tilts her head, “But what is he going to be doing?”.

ClockWork pats Danny’s head, they were not wrong, even with a halfa. Though no ghost just knew how the Zone’s politics worked. But the existence of many levels of law and government within the Zone was not for them to know, not yet. “But of course, ghosts know themselves well, but not so much other ghosts. After all, have you met any who know of me? And”, holding up a finger and smirking at Maddie, “everything. He’ll find there’s little he won’t do”.

Maddie blinks and mutters, “are you trying to say he’s going to be all powerful or control ghosts”.

Danny makes a damn point not to react, considering the whole High Ghost Prince thing, meaning his mom was absolutely right. Though he then gapes at ClockWork and throws his hands out to the side as they promptly teleport away with a twirl of their staff and a wink. Danny groans at the thin air where they used to be, “seriously time-pants?”.

Jack and Maddie both can’t help but laugh while Danny grumbles more while looking at them, “they always make their timing dramatic”.

Jack nods a little, “I did nearly face-plant into them when they showed up for me”. Maddie giggles a little but nods, “they startled me enough that I set my original college application on fire”.

Danny snorts, “tossed through a time portal and slammed my face into a giant bell, five times”. Jack chuckles, “that’s way more silly”.

Maddie nods but looks Danny over, “do you know what that wink meant?”.

“Probably five different things. One part is definitely just to cause mischief and drama. Could be referring to a possible future or just wants to let someone think that’s the case”, is Danny lying a little? Yeah. Is he just going to out the whole prince/future king thing? Ancients no.

Maddie shakes her head and mutters, “now I'm questioning everything to do with them“.

Danny snorts and goes to walk upstairs, “either question everything or accept everything. Both at the same time? I go with that”.

Jack mutters as Danny leaves fully, “I don’t think you can do that really”.

ClockWork watches through a viewing portal, the questions were in place and, watching with a slight smirk as pissed off Observants inadvertently knock a very particular book from the future through a strategically placed portal and lands on the Fenton lab floor, said questions would be answered.

While Jack spots the glowing book and gets a little excited, the two instantly start flipping through to find it’s a storybook, a book telling the tale of a legend.

A king of youth in a castle of dark brick, lording over a word of mythical creatures of the dead persuasion. Spoken of as kind and just, yet powerful and resolute. A black and white dragon, with eyes that see every shade. Who proved his strength through countless battles, and a battered body that moved with pride. Who proved his mind through quick-witted wordplay, and hiding amongst the enemy.

But what really caught the parents’ eyes were the black and gray pictures, the sketches. Largely of landscapes, the castle of course and the flora filled land surrounding it. But also some of a blazing crown and extravagant cape, a sword of ice carved with flowers and skulls. Though they trace their fingers over the silhouette drawing of this king, swinging the sword at another figure with a near-identical physique but flaming hair and snake tongue. It’s titled ‘First Trial’. The king could easily be an older Danny, but they couldn’t be certain.

But what really makes them pause and share a glance is a landscape piece, where a strange clocktower could be seen in the background. Surrounded by floating gears, much the same as the one ClockWork wore for a clasp.

Maddie squints down at the image and runs off looking for a microscope, coming back and hovering it over one of the windows in the clocktower to see ClockWork -in child form- winking right at her with a circular something showing the image of her and Jack leaning over this very book. Maddie jerking back and whispering, “Zone that cheeky bastard”, before flipping to the last page. Both parents blinking down at a familiar-sounding quote signed with a fanciful yet nearly illegible ‘CW’.

“Existence is a story we weave, but a story unread is a story yet to be solidified. What we know can change everything, and once knowledge is written and known, it becomes something to last forevermore”.

Jack scratches his head and mutters, “did we just ensure Danny would become a king or something, or a paradox would happen?”.

Maddie knits her fingers together and speaks into her hands, “I think we did”.

Neither parent’s sure whether they should scream and be pissed or be proud.

ClockWork simply smiles while two Observants float in demanding, “ClockWork, what did you do”.

“My job”.

“It’s your job to watch time, not play favourites. He will destroy us”.

ClockWork turns and levels them with an unreadable gaze, “you mean further restrict and take your power? Precisely. Just because I am not a player on the field doesn’t mean I’m not in control. Time is the field board, and I tilt as I please. You’re simply referees, you are nothing without the players and you’ve been betting on the wrong ones. All in the name of your search for dominance. For those you could control or who lacked the strength to ever stand against you. But in the end”, ClockWork floats to be closer to them almost menacingly, “this game is played in a grandiose casino, and the house always wins in time”.

End.

#Danny Phantom #phandom #clockwork #tropes #play-along prisoner #take a third option #ghost prince danny #danny fenton #maddie fenton #jack fenton #Observants #making clockwork even more op #reveal #origin myths #mythology

70 notes · View notes

team-free-will-oneshots · 5 years

Text

Breaking Point

Title: Breaking Point (part five of the ‘Buried Secrets’ series) Summary: Dean realises exactly how badly he messed up - but you’re not ready to forgive him. When you and Sam get even closer on a hunt, how much of a rift will be driven between you and Dean? Will you ever be able to cross it? Pairing: Sam x Reader, Dean x Reader (fem pronouns) (mostly sam x reader in this part) Warnings: some swearing, Angst™, canon-typical violence, also more angst :( Word Count: 4,811 (its a long one, sorry...)

note; ok so this part is based around 11x07, ‘Plush’ - I stayed somewhat true to canon but ended up tying up the hunt a lot more quickly and easily than the episode for my own convenience lmao. also sam isn’t having the visions from “God” in this series, at least it’s not gonna be brought up bc that’s all just A Lot for me to try and keep track of and i wanna keep focus on the fic plot not canon lol, sorry! anyways hope u enjoy this part!

Part One | Two | Three | Four

Masterlist

It was too bright, and his head hurt. It was almost enough to make him forget the events that had transpired the night prior - almost.

Dean rubbed his tired eyes as he stumbled to the kitchen, brewing a pot of coffee as he bit back a yawn. He poured a cup and stared at the nearly-full pot for a few moments before realising no one was coming to join him. Right - Sam had taken your side.

The anger raging through his veins had burned out long ago, replaced only with a hollow feeling of guilt that made him feel sick to his stomach as his brutal words bounced around the chambers of his mind. The hurt in your eyes was branded into his brain, and he clenched his jaw as he recalled your timid voice, your shaking hands as you fled from him as though you were scared of him.

Scared.

Of him.

As if he could ever hurt you.

But you did, his brain whispered. Dean slammed his mug down on the table, hot coffee splashing onto his hands, the tiny droplets scalding his skin as he swore and shook them off. He clenched his fist midair, bringing it to crash back against the wood of the table. He felt so guilty - why did he feel so guilty? You lied to him, lied to Sam, to Cas, to everyone - and he was the one feeling bad?

But the spark of anger fizzled before it could grow, and he resolved to set his feelings aside, at least for now. He was good at that - avoiding things. It was practically in his Winchester genes to ignore his emotions until they broke him. And he wasn’t at breaking point - not yet, at least.

Dean’s fingers found his phone, and he toyed with it absentmindedly, thumb hovering over your number, and then Sam’s. After staring at it a little longer than he’d have liked to admit, he slipped it back into his pocket. You weren’t coming back - not yet, at least. But even though you were gone, Amara was still a threat. Weird connection to her or not, he needed to find a way to get rid of her.

Assigning his pain to the backseat, Dean hit the books.

---

“Hello, Dean.”

The eldest Winchester started awake, the shape of the book before him sharply imprinted onto his cheek. He rubbed it, wincing his bleary eyes at the discomfort.

“Cas?” he groaned. “What is it?”

“Have you slept?” The angel’s voice was weighed with concern, and Dean rolled his eyes.

“Obviously,” he muttered, wiping the dried spit crusted at the corner of his mouth as he swallowed back the unpleasant taste an unexpected nap always left. “Found anything?”

“Nothing new,” Cas said, glancing around the empty bunker. “Where are Y/N and Sam? Shouldn’t they be helping you research?” he asked disapprovingly, and Dean chuckled dryly.

“I haven’t heard from them in two days,” he said, plastering on a humourless grin. Castiel’s brow creased.

“Are they on a hunt? They could be hurt, we should-”

“No, they’re not on- Y/N’s a witch,” Dean blurted, and Castiel’s eyebrows flitted skywards in surprise.

“A witch?”

“You heard me,” Dean growled, turning back to the books. “She- she used a hex bag on me, so I kicked her out. Sam went after her - texted me, told me not to follow ‘em.”

“That doesn’t sound like Y/N,” Cas remarked, and Dean scoffed.

“Yeah, tell me about it. She said it was to help me, whatever that’s meant to mean,” he muttered. Cas gave him a knowing look, and Dean’s defences shot up.

“What? I’m fine, I don’t need help!” he said angrily, and Cas made a disbelieving sound.

“Right. Of course not. Have you considered that Y/N might just have been worried about you, and really did want to help?” Cas prompted, and Dean rolled his eyes.

“Of course I have, Cas. But that doesn’t justify her lying about being a monster! We’ve known her years, and she never told us the truth!” he exclaimed. Cas hummed disapprovingly.

“Dean, you know that witches aren’t all bad. You just happen to have a great deal of experience weeding out the… bad apples,” he said slowly. “Can you really blame her for keeping it a secret, considering how you’ve reacted?”

Dean’s jaw ticked, and your teary face flashed again into his mind. He wondered how long you’d cried - if Sam had comforted you, like the big softie he was. If you’d thought about him at all the last few days. If you wished he’d reacted differently. ‘Cos god, he was wishing that right about now, too.

“She-she’s dangerous,” Dean protested lamely.

“If you really believed that, you would never have let Sam go after her alone,” Cas reminded him gently, and he couldn’t find the words to argue back. He let his eyes fall on the yellowed paper before him, the fading ink blurring into a meaningless jumble of letters as he struggled to make sense of the mass of emotions tangled amongst his thoughts.

“Why was I so angry?” he asked eventually. “She lied to me, and- and I was so pissed. But now I just… I miss her,” he admitted. Cas offered a tight, sympathetic smile.

“You do have a tendency to lash out when you’re hurt,” he informed the Winchester. “I know that better than most. And it’s understandable that you could feel… betrayed,” Castiel continued slowly, and Dean grunted in agreement.

“Yeah, well, she did lie to me,” he muttered.

“So has Sam. And I, in the past. Don’t be angry, but… you do tend to latch onto small things to push people away. And I know,” Cas interjected as Dean opened his mouth to protest, “this isn’t exactly a tiny secret. But I think that the reason why she kept it was quite clear. The real question is - why did you feel the need to push her away in the first place?”

Dean swallowed hard, hating that the angel was right in his analysis, and hating even more how obvious the answer seemed to him now. Why had he pushed you away, just as you were starting to get close?

The answer came to him as easily as the alphabet. Because he didn’t deserve you. He didn’t deserve your concern, your care, your smiles. And above all, he certainly didn’t deserve your love. He didn’t deserve to be happy with you - he knew he’d only bring you down.

And so, Dean had done what Dean did best - found a means to push you away. To alienate himself from you, so that even if he changed his mind, you wouldn’t want to be with him after the way he had wronged you. So that you could be free of him. And it just so happened that your newly exposed identity as a witch was the perfect excuse to slice a rift between you.

Dean ran his hands over his face as he groaned. “God, Cas, she was just trying to help. She was trying to help me and I was such a fucking dick to her. How do I go back from that?” he asked helplessly, voice cracking as he raised his head to meet Castiel’s eyes. The angel’s face was solemn.

“I’d imagine you start with an apology.”

Dean sighed, mouth half open to speak when his phone vibrated against the table. His jaw fell closed, and he shot Cas a tense look before holding the phone up to his ear.

“Dean,” he muttered.

“Hiya, Dean!” Donna’s cheerful voice greeted. “Look, it could be nothing, but I might have a case for ya…”

---

You glanced up from your book as Sam’s phone vibrated across the room - the youngest Winchester had gone for a walk to clear his head from the seemingly endless lore and news articles the two of you had been picking apart since your hasty departure from the bunker. Sighing, you heaved yourself to your feet, rubbing at your temple absentmindedly as you glanced at the caller ID.

Dean.

Breath catching in your throat, you set your jaw and purposefully declined the call. Thoughts of the eldest Winchester didn’t bring you sadness, not anymore - instead, they fuelled your system with rage. How could he treat you like that, say those things to you after all you’d been through together? You humphed in annoyance, and just as you were about to re-take your seat, the phone began its incessant buzzing once more. Defeated, you held the phone up to your ear, bracing yourself for what was to come.

“Sam’s phone,” you said tersely, and the line fell dead silent.

“Y/N?” Dean asked, voice barely rising above a whisper. You cleared your throat, careful to keep your voice steady as you responded.

“That’s me - the one you kicked out, remember?” you said brightly, though your voice was underlaid with acidic anger that corroded your cheerful tone.

“I remember,” Dean muttered. “Y/N, I-”

The door opened, and you exhaled in relief as you pulled the phone from your ear. “Sam, it’s your brother,” you said stiffly, and Sam quirked an eyebrow before accepting the phone in your extended hand.

“Dean?” he asked in surprise, and you picked up your book again as Sam walked into the bathroom, closing the door while he continued the conversation with his brother. You heard his voice rise in irritation, but after a few more moments, he walked out with a defeated expression.

“Donna needs help on a hunt,” he said apologetically, beginning to gather his things. You jumped up and began to prepare your own, but paused at the confused expression clouding Sam’s face.

“Uh… Dean’s gonna be there. You don’t have to come,” he told you, and you shrugged half-heartedly.

“I feel so cooped up in here, I honestly don’t care. A hunt would do me some good - help me get out some pent up anger,” you explained, and Sam frowned but didn’t object again. “So, what are we looking at?” you asked.

“Uh, Dean said something about a “killer bunny,” Sam said, and you shot him a confused look.

“A what?”

“That’s all he said - it might not even be our kind of thing. I say we go down, give Donna some peace of mind, and if it’s not our kinda gig we let the police take it from there,” he said, and you nodded.

“Yeah. Okay. Let’s hop on down and check out this killer bunny,” you said, smiling cheekily. Sam groaned.

“Really, Y/N?” he asked, though his tone was tinged with amusement. “Puns?”

“Hey, maybe it was an accident - you really ought to stop jumping to conclusions,” you defended, and he rolled his eyes.

“An accident? Yeah, I doubt it - you’re hardly being subtle,” he replied, and you grinned slyly.

“I guess you could even say I’m dangling a carrot in front of your face,” you pressed, and Sam turned to you in exasperation.

“You done?” he asked, despite the smile playing on his features. You grinned.

“Not even close.”

“Well, I’m putting an official ban on rabbit puns for at least the ride down,” Sam said, and you pouted.

“Why?” you whined, and he shot you a playful grin.

“They’re just not bunny.”

---

A pun-filled car ride later, the two of you strode into Donna’s precinct in your FBI getups, where Dean was already waiting for you.

“Sorry if we’re a hare late, traffic was a nightmare,” you greeted, pointedly ignoring Dean as you gave a laughing Donna a hug. Sam rolled his eyes fondly, and you winked at him before your sights fell on Dean. His eyes met yours, and he quickly lowered his gaze, clearing his throat before turning to Donna.

“So, what makes you think this is our kind of thing?” he asked. Donna explained the situation - gruesome murder, and an apprehended perp whose mask refused to budge. You whistled as she finished.

“Well, it’s certainly a hare-raising tail, but I’m not sure it’s our thing,” you said with a mischievous smile. Donna laughed, Sam rolled his eyes affectionately, and Dean tried a tentative smile of his own.

You ignored it.

“Yeah, but if uh, you’ve got a wild hare...” he added playfully. “See what I did there?” Donna laughed again, but you rolled your eyes and acted as though he hadn’t spoken, refusing to even meet his gaze. His heart sank, and the smile fell from his face.

A short while later, Donna led the three of you to the holding cells, where you frowned at the sight before you.

“Any witnesses?” Sam asked, and Donna nodded.

“Ex-wife - thought she was next, but the bunny just up and walked out the door!” she exclaimed.

“You ID him yet?” Dean queried, and Donna shook her head.

“Nope. No wallet, cell… ran his prints, but no prior record. Couldn’t even get our hands on him long enough to check for any identifying marks. Only thing we do know is he’s caucasian, roughly eighteen to twenty-five… and terrifying,” she breathed.

Donna was called away by Officer Stover, leaving the three of you, plus bunny, alone. You frowned, stepping closer and squinting at the bloodied mask.

“Are we sure it’s not just a really committed furry?” you asked slowly. Sam’s brow furrowed.

“What’s a-”

Dean frantically shook his head at his brother. “You don’t wanna know,” he interrupted, and the exaggerated fear in his voice brought a smile to your face. You quickly composed your expression, clearing your throat as Dean stepped forward and threw some mocking quips at the masked figure.

“What, took too much molly? Super-glued your mask to your head? Got paranoid, stabbed a guy? Been there,” he chuckled, and you scoffed. Dean turned around, frowning at your reaction, and the bunny seized the moment of distraction to grab him by the neck and slam him against the bars of the holding cell.

Sam busted out the holy water, to no avail. “Not a demon,” he remarked. You stood to the side, panic flaring in your chest at the sight of Dean struggling. No no no no no!

“Well, he’s strong!” Dean snapped, and Sam grabbed the bunny’s hands, trying to pry them off his brother’s neck. You rubbed your temple, trying to soothe your stress headache and willing yourself to think when it hit you.

“Wait, I’ve got this,” you muttered, pushing Sam back as you took a deep breath and closed your eyes.

“Any time now, Y/N!” Dean pressed.

“Shut it!” you snapped, before thrusting your hands forward. A surge of power had the attacker flying backwards and slamming into the wall. It didn’t seem to faze him - he got to his feet and stood perfectly still, those fake, glassy eyes seeming to stare straight at you. Dean winced, rubbing at his neck. As the adrenaline seeped from your veins, you felt your headache fade away.

“Thanks,” Dean muttered, and you folded your arms, resolutely ignoring him. Meanwhile, Sam’s eyes fell on the bunny’s t-shirt - Minnesota Tech - and the tattoo on his arm - ‘Kylie Forever’.

“Kylie forever,” he mused. “That’ll work.”

It didn’t take you long to compile a list of potential ‘Kylie’s’, and Dean whistled at the length of it. “Alright, Y/N and I will take the first ten. Sam, you can-”

You cleared your throat. “Uh, actually, I’ll go with Sam,” you interjected, and Dean raised his brows in surprise.

“But- but we always team up,” he objected, voice ringing with hurt. You shot him a tight smile.

“Yeah, well I wouldn’t want you to have to swallow your disgust, would I?” you spat, and Dean flinched at your words as the reality of the situation crashed over him. How could he forget?

“Listen, Y/N…” he began, but you shook your head.

“Just… leave it,” you grumbled. “We’ll check in later. C’mon, Sam,” you dismissed, grabbing Sam’s arm and walking away. Sam shot his brother an apologetic shrug, letting you guide him towards the exit.

Dean watched as you left, expelling a deep sigh as he ran his hand over the side of his face before shaking his head to himself. He jumped when Donna’s voice echoed from behind him.

“What’d’ya do to get her knickers all up in a bunch?” she asked, and Dean barked a dry laugh that died on his lips.

“I messed up, is what I did,” he informed her. “Things were good. Great. Better than, even - we were… well, we were about to be somethin’, anyways, but I… said some things I shouldn’t have. And now I dunno if she can forgive me. If I even deserve to be forgiven.”

Donna frowned. “Sounds like you should try apologising, bud. Don’t be afraid to go real sappy, neither, just make sure ya bein’ honest,” she advised, and Dean grunted.

“Yeah, I would if she’d actually talk to me,” he scoffed, and Donna hummed.

“Well, if she needs space, you gotta give it to her,” she said simply. “Can’t expect a girl to give ya a civil conversation if you didn’t give her one to start with, can ya? Piece of advice, though - if ya wanna patch things up, ya betta get in sooner rather than later. She and Sam are lookin’ real chummy,” she said, elbowing him slyly. He frowned.

“Her and Sam? No way. Really?”

Donna whistled. “Oh, yeah. Besta luck,” she said, patting him lightly on the back. “Catch ya later.”

As the blonde left, Dean stood for a moment, stewing in his own overwhelming emotions and chewing on the advice Donna had offered. You clearly wanted your space… and if you really were moving away from him and towards Sam… well, wasn’t pushing you away exactly what he’d wanted in the first place? Wouldn’t it be better for you to be with his kind, thoughtful brother instead of being stuck with… well, whatever kind of a mess Dean himself was?

He sighed, shaking his head and ignoring the hollow aching in his chest as he forced himself back to work. He could deal with this later - he wasn’t at breaking point.

Not yet.

---

It didn’t take long for the puzzle pieces to fall together - once you realised you were dealing with a ghost and managed to piece together a list of the costumes he was attached to, it took near no time at all to sort it out between you, Sam, Dean and Donna. You’d stuck with Sam the whole time, communicating with the others in quick phone calls and texts.

Sam was by your side when you tossed a match on the final costume, watching the fire sear through the fabric and the reeking smoke drift into the air as the ghost of Chester Johnson was eaten up by the tongues of hungry, flickering flames. You exhaled heavily as silence fell across the forest the two of you had found yourselves in, an echoing quiet broken only by the crackling of the fire.

“Well, that’s that,” you murmured. Sam swallowed, nodding.

“Yeah. Nice work.”

A smile sloped your lips. “You too. Now what?”

Sam’s phone buzzed before he could reply, and he tugged it from his pocket, glancing at the screen before his eyes met yours.

“Now we meet up with Dean and Donna,” he said. You were quiet.

“Right. Dean.”

“Y/N… maybe you should listen to what he has to say. It seems like-”

“I can’t, Sam. Not right now, not after he… it’s just too soon,” you mumbled, and Sam offered a tight, sympathetic smile.

“Yeah. I get it. But you can’t stay mad at him forever,” he reminded you. You averted your gaze, eyes cast downwards.

“I know. But… I can’t forget. Not yet.”

Sam’s eyes softened, and he rested his hand soothingly on the curve of your waist. You ignored the stutter of your heart.

“Come on, let’s get back.”

The car ride back to the station was quick to draw the lingering tension between the two of you, replacing it with easy banter and refreshing laughter that still bubbled on your lips as the two of you stumbled into Dean.

“Hey - is it done?” he asked, and Sam nodded.

“Yeah - he’s gone. Everything’s burned,” Sam confirmed, and Dean grinned, clapping his brother on the back.

“Great work, Sammy!”

Sam rolled his eyes. “It’s Sam,” he corrected affectionately, and Dean brushed him off with a nonchalant,

“Pssh.” He turned to you. “Good work, Y/N - you always could handle yourself on a hunt,” he complimented, and the smile died on your lips. Your jaw was taut as you avoided his gaze.

“Yeah. Thanks,” you muttered. As much as a small part of you appreciated that Dean was making somewhat of an effort, the memories of that fateful night weren’t so easily erased. Years of friendship reduced to ashes in a single moment as Dean’s rage sent you packing - the echoes of his words still cut you, and you were yet to determine whether their scars would be permanent. At any rate, you knew you weren’t ready to forgive him. Not yet.

Dean sighed. “Look, Y/N… can we talk?”

You half scoffed, feeling your defensive walls rise as you shook your head. “You didn’t exactly give me the liberty of a discussion the other night, did you?”

Your words came out harsher than you intended, and you felt a flicker of guilt at the hurt in Dean’s eyes that you quickly forced yourself to quell. Dean shook his head in disbelief, the action paired with a sharp intake of breath as your words slammed into him like a brick.

“C’mon, man… I was angry. It was a lot to take in, you can’t expect me to just-”

“Dean,” Sam warned, cutting his brother off before he could raise his voice. Dean took a breath, nodding, and you interrupted him as he opened his mouth to speak.

“Whatever, Dean. I’ll be seeing you.” The words were cold, your tone colder as you spun on your heel, stalking back to the car. Despite the hurt welling in your chest, you found yourself half-hoping that he’d follow you, that he’d properly apologise, that things could go back to some semblance of normal…

But Dean watched as you left, Donna’s words ringing in his head. “If she needs space, you gotta give it to her.” As much as every bone in his body longed to follow you, to hug you and kiss you and whisper the words that would fix everything, he stayed put. There were no magic words, no embraces nor kisses that could fix the mess he had made.

And so, with a heavy heart, he let you leave.

---

The car ride back to the motel was draped with a silence so thick you could have sliced it with a butter knife. You didn’t want to think, not right now, so you busied yourself staring out the window at the scenery, leached navy and grey in the moonlight. The road was quiet at this time - the two of you were alone, your only company the yellow glow of the headlights bouncing back at you from the green road signs you passed.

You could feel another headache coming on, so you popped some aspirin and swallowed them dry. The pills were bitter and powdery as they started to crumble on your tongue, and you winced as you finally got them down. Sam glanced over at you when he heard the crinkle of the aluminium sheet of tablets, but maintained his silence.

When he pulled into the parking lot, you headed to the room in sullen silence. You collapsed onto your bed still fully clothed, kicking off your shoes as you sighed. Your conversation with Dean had left a hollow sensation in your chest you weren’t quite certain how to shake. Glancing over at Sam, you saw him climbing into bed and shooting a concerned glance your way. You met it with a ghost of a smile.

“Do you mind…”

He chuckled. “C’mon,” he invited, nodding to his bed. A breathy laugh fell from your lips as you crawled into his bed, letting him tuck you against his chest. You’d slept beside him every night you’d stayed in the motel thus far - his warm presence helped you drift off better than any of your hex bags ever could. Your magic couldn’t replicate the gentle rise and fall of his chest, nor the patterns his fingers would trace over your spine.

“This is just a mess, isn’t it?” you asked weakly, and felt the sudden sinking of Sam’s torso as he sighed.

“Maybe a little,” he allowed, shooting you a small smile that you instinctively returned.

“I just… I don’t know how to feel. I wish things could just go back to the way they were, but… that’s not going to happen, is it? Not now that he knows,” you whispered. “God, I wish I wasn’t… me. Everything would be so much easier.” Sam fell into a thoughtful silence, and you almost thought he’d fallen asleep until his voice broke the comfortable quiet hanging over the room.

“Things won’t be the same,” he said eventually. “But… maybe that’s not a bad thing. Maybe this is something you needed, something to push you towards…” He trailed off, sighing again as he shook his head. “I dunno. But I don’t think you should just give up on things getting better,” he said. “And you definitely shouldn’t regret being true to yourself. You… God, you’re incredible, Y/N. And if Dean can’t see that, then that’s his loss.”

You smiled at his soothing words, glancing up at him in the darkness. Shadows clung to his skin, highlighting the sharp line of his jaw, the perfect disarray of his hair. He caught you staring and chuckled, the dimples in his cheeks protruding at the action.

“Thanks, Sammy,” you said eventually, and he shook his head, fingers moving to comb through your hair, gently tugging out the knots. You stared at him a moment longer, your lips forming your next words before you’d even realised you’d spoken.

“Why do you let me call you Sammy? You always correct Dean,” you realised, and Sam laughed sheepishly, the sound swallowed by the darkness. He shrugged.

“I dunno. I guess… when Dean says it, I know he’s seeing me as just his kid brother. But when you say it… it feels different. Almost comforting.” He shrugged again, ducking his head in embarrassment. “That probably sounds stupid…”

You shook your head. “No - not at all,” you breathed, breath catching as his eyes flitted to yours. You were vaguely aware that at some point during your conversation your headache had faded, the space it occupied replaced with Sam’s smile, the warmth of his voice, and solid presence of his arms around you.

His proximity seemed to become more apparent as you became aware of your heart thumping against your ribs. If he noticed, he kept it to himself, though you knew there was no way he could miss the sudden hitch in your breathing as he adjusted to nestle you snug against his side. The simple, caring movement unleashed a wave of emotions you’d been fighting to hold back for longer than you cared to admit - feelings you’d bottled up and pushed away, dismissing them as faint impossibilities, distant fantasies that would never see the light of day.

And so, how fitting it was that you found your breaking point under the dark protection of the night.

Before you could stop yourself, your mouth was slanting against his, sleepy and soft and slow. Sam froze beneath you, and you quickly pulled back, but before you could panic he was returning his lips to yours. Your eyes fell closed as his thumb found the side of your face, brushing along your cheekbone as he tilted your chin up to gain better access to your mouth. Sam’s hand wandered to your waist, clutching you close against him as he twisted his neck to deepen the kiss, the press of his mouth on yours a far more important cause than maintaining his own comfort; your smile, captured in the gentle exploration of his lips over yours, made the straining of his muscles worth it.

But as all good things do, the kiss came to an end. You couldn’t keep the smile from your face as you leaned into Sam’s chest, closing your eyes as his lips found your hair, whispering his goodnight into your scalp. But as sleep began to carry you off in her gentle waves, your mind couldn’t help but drift to Dean - in the bunker that felt more than a thousand miles away, the other side of his bed cold but for the empty bottle he was surely nursing. Dean - still sleeping alone.

His tired, green eyes were the last sight your mind conjured, before sleep finally washed you away.

__________

Read part six here!

Buried Secrets tags: @clarinette07 @demonsofhunting @carryon-doctor-lock @coupleofgoons @colie87 @non-exclusive-trash @txnii-hxrdyy @spaghettiwoes

Forever Tags: @babygirloreo @calaofnoldor @lmpala97 @sebastianshoe @81mysteriouslyme @castieliswatchingoverme @spnlovr73 @kina666 @liviaolivia @simplyxparker @helpmeluci @demonsofhunting

Sam tags: @sammys-dimpless

Dean tags: @polina-93 @justagirlinafandomworld @coupleofgoons

If you want to be added to any of my tag lists, let me know!

175 notes · View notes

extrasteps · 5 years

Photo

Stacked Chapter 7

See previous photoset here.

Theo woke up with dread burning in his stomach. He just knew that taking that one amazing, perfect day with Liam was going to blow up in his face in a big way. He wasn’t allowed to be this happy - the universe wouldn’t allow it.

He got ready for the day with extreme reluctance, and Liam picked up on his mood immediately, wrapping his arms around him and pressing a kiss to the back of his neck.

“It’ll be fine,” he soothed.

It wouldn’t, but he appreciated that Liam was trying.

They were meant to meet Scott and the others at Scott’s place in an hour, and Theo told him he’d meet him there. He wanted to slip into his house and steal some more clothes. Liam meant well, letting Theo borrow some of his, but Theo was wider in the shoulders than Liam, and his shirts were uncomfortably tight. He gathered that that was the point though, with the way Liam’s eyes often drifted to his shoulders, gaze turning dark with lust.

Theo somehow managed to leave Liam behind as he drove to his house, pausing in front of his door and taking a deep breath before opening it.

It was like he’d known this was going to happen.

He stepped through the front door, head tilted to the side, listening.

There was no one home, no heartbeats. His fake parents had probably bailed after he hadn’t come home again, figuring it was safe to do so. It was. He had no intention of hunting them down. His cover was well and truly blown now.

Just as he’d managed to fill a bag full of clothes, he felt it. The hum of electricity. They were coming. There was no point in running. There was nowhere he could go that they wouldn’t find him.

Closing his bedroom door behind him, he made his way into the lounge room where they were waiting.

“What do you want?” He demanded.

On the coffee table there were three dossiers and he moved forward, swaggering with a confidence he didn’t feel as he scooped them up, flipping through them.

Three teenagers. Three new chimeras. Three new graves.

“Find them,” they intoned. “Train them.”

And then with a crackle they were gone.

“Just a brief visit then,” he muttered, plucking out the three photos and examining them with a sigh. He wasn’t sure if this was a good sign or not. Was he under suspicion? Were they testing him?

He picked up his bag, slinging it over his shoulder. Looked like he had a few stops to make before he made it to Scott’s house.

***

Liam paced in Scott’s kitchen, wearing a track into the floor.

“Liam,” Mason said, sounding concerned.

“He’s coming,” Liam snapped, eyes fixed on the clock. Theo was almost half an hour late now. Stiles was already making snarky comments about how Theo had skipped town and the urge to throttle him was growing stronger by the second.

But it wasn’t because he was angry. It was because he was afraid.

What if it was true?

What if Theo really had left him?

He’d like to think that after the day they’d spent together yesterday that Theo could never do that, but how well did he know him really? Was their bond stronger than Theo’s fear? Liam wasn’t sure.

By the time an hour had passed, he was sitting on the couch between Mason and Scott, ignoring the conversation going on around him, staring down at his hands.

Before Theo had left earlier he’d used those same hands to cup his cheeks and kiss him, telling him he’d see him again soon. Surely that hadn’t been their last kiss. Surely fate wasn’t that cruel.

“Theo doing a bunk doesn’t change the facts,” Stiles was arguing, “these doctor guys are a serious threat. We have to do something.”

He’d come today despite his suspicion of Theo, which Liam appreciated, but he was also getting on his nerves, and he didn’t have many nerves to begin with. His IED was simmering in his chest, getting close to boiling point.

He looked at Mason. “I think I need to go,” he said quietly. “Mase-”

“Punching bag, got it,” Mason said, jumping to his feet. “Go out back. Me and Corey will bring it out.”

Ever since his diagnosis, Mason had been more than supportive. He had his boot filled with a large punching bag and gloves, kept it in there every single day despite the inconvenience, just so Liam would have something to hit that wasn’t a wall, or someone else’s face.

Liam stalked outside, ignoring the others calling after him. If he went back, he would do or say something he would regret.

Corey set up the bag on the nearest tree, and they left him to it, grunting as he took out his aggression on the bag, blood rushing in his ears, seeing red.

He punched the bag again and again and again, taking out all of his fear and frustration on it until his arms and shoulders were aching and he was panting for breath, his anger spent.

When he turned toward the house, exhausted and covered with sweat, his eyes fell upon Theo, sitting on the back step.

Theo looked concerned as he slowly rose to his feet.

“Are you okay?” He asked.

Liam shivered. “You didn’t leave,” he said, voice flat. He didn’t have any emotion left in his body. He was wrung out.

“I had to make a few pit stops,” Theo said with a sigh, walking towards him. “I’m sorry I didn’t text you.”

Liam considered him. There was nothing about the way Theo was looking at him that suggested he was lying, and Liam didn’t know what to think.

“I’m used to being on my own,” Theo continued when it was clear that Liam wasn’t going to say anything. “Mason chewed me out when I got here, told me off for worrying you. And he was right. It was a shitty thing to do. I’m sorry, Liam.”

Slowly, Liam nodded. “Okay,” he said.

He walked past Theo into the house, stripping off his gloves. His knuckles were red and sore. He hadn’t had time to strap them before the need to hit something had overwhelmed him. But they would heal.

Liam came to a stop at the kitchen door, looking at the three strangers with suspicion.

“Theo’s extra pit stops, I assume,” he said to Scott, continuing inside.

“Yeah,” Scott sighed, rubbing a hand through his hair. “The Dread Doctors are making more chimeras.”

Theo came to stand next to Liam, hesitantly placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Liam, meet my new chimera pack. Corey, Josh and Tracy.”

He looked between the three of them, a twinge of fear breaking through the numbness. The Dread Doctors were making more chimeras. What did that mean for Theo?

***

Theo felt like a complete asshole. Liam had had an attack, and it was all his fault. How had he not even considered sending him a text? In his own defence, he hadn’t realised that it would take so long to convince the three new chimeras to come with him, and they’d all demanded explanations from him about what was happening to them, but now he had them more or less on board, accepting him, somewhat reluctantly, as their leader.

It wasn’t that he was any more thrilled than them by this state of affairs. Not even two weeks ago he would have been ecstatic to have his own pack, but now it meant nothing to him. The only thing that mattered was Liam, and hopefully somehow being able to gain his freedom.

Liam walked away to go and clean up a bit in Scott’s bathroom, leaving Theo standing in the lounge room with Scott’s pack and his three new pack members all staring at him.

“What now?” Theo asked, looking at Scott.

“I think we need help,” Scott said. “We need more information about the Dread Doctors.”

Theo sighed. “You need the author.”

“McCammon?” Scott asked, looking at him intently.

“That’s not his real name,” he said. “It’s Valack.”

“He’s the one who it’s dedicated to,” Stiles pointed out, holding out a copy of the book, showing the relevant page.

Theo nodded. “He wrote it under a pseudonym. The book makes you remember them. The Dread Doctors. That’s why he wrote it.”

“If you know so much,” Stiles said, a sneer on his face as he stalked closer, “then why don’t you tell us everything there is to know about them.”

“He already has,” Scott said, voice terse. “He told me everything he knew.”

Stiles scoffed. “Sure he did.”

“I trust him,” Scott said, finality in his tone. “Liam trusts him.”

Stiles glowered but didn’t respond. Theo couldn’t even blame him. He’d come here with the intention of infiltrating their pack and destroying it, making it anew with him as the alpha. That wasn’t his goal anymore, but Stiles had been right not to trust him, then at least.

Now, it’d be nice if he would give Theo the benefit of the doubt.

“Okay,” Scott said, turning and looking around. “We have questions, let’s figure out exactly what we need to know before we decide who is going where.”

“Alright,” Stiles said, speaking up again now, glaring at Theo. “First question, what do the Dread Doctors want?”

“They want to resurrect the Beast,” Theo told him. “For that, they need a genetic chimera.”

“Why didn’t they just use you?” Stiles asked, moving closer. “This all seems pretty convenient.”

“It didn’t work with me,” he said with a sigh. “Believe me, they tried.” For years, they’d experimented on him in every possible way while he was strapped to their gurney. He’d been pathetically grateful when the pain had finally stopped and they’d started using him in other ways instead. It had made sense to him. Hurt others so that they didn’t hurt him.

He knew better now.

“So they made more,” Scott hummed. “Why these three? What’s special about them?”

“It’s like Finch said the other day in class,” Theo explained. “Chimeras have more than one kind of DNA. Maybe it’s a transplant, a blood transfusion, whatever. I stole medical records for them a few months ago. They want young people, children and teenagers. They survive longer in their experiments, generally.”

“How old were you?” Liam asked quietly. He was standing at the door, rubbing a thumb over his red knuckles.

“When?” Theo turned towards him.

“The first time they experimented on you.”

His hand flew to his chest automatically, rubbing over the non-existent scar. “Eight,” he admitted.

“Next question,” Stiles interrupted, drawing Theo’s gaze. “What exactly is this beast?”

Theo shrugged. “Ask an Argent,” he said. “It’s something from their lore.”

Scott’s gaze dropped, his jaw clenching. Theo studied him, feeling a twinge of guilt. Of course Scott couldn’t ask Allison, she was gone.

But there was still her father. Although Theo wanted to stay far away from him. He had a feeling that the hunter was far more dangerous than any of Scott’s pack realised.

“Stiles and I will go to Eichen,” Lydia said, walking up to grasp Scott’s shoulder, squeezing it. “You should speak to Argent.”

“And Theo?” Stiles asked.

“He has his hands a bit full right now, don’t you think?” She asked gently, head tilting towards the new chimeras. Theo grimaced, following her gaze to where Corey, Tracy and Josh were all sitting on the couch, Mason hovering near them, looking uncertain.

Yeah, he had enough to deal with.

“I’ll stay with Theo and Mason and the others,” Liam said to Scott. “You guys go.”

Kira walked up and took Scott’s hand, leading him away, and Theo watched them go, feeling frustrated. Divide and conquer was a classic tactic. These idiots would have fallen right into his trap without so much as a blink. Why were they all so naive?

“Hey,” Liam said, nudging his shoulder. “Earth to Theo.”

He shook his head, pushing his frustration aside. They were paired up at least, and with Kira going with Scott to see Argent instead of to Eichen, the Dread Doctors wouldn’t be able to get to Valack.

“Don’t give him what he wants,” he said quietly to Lydia as she started to move past them.

She startled, looking at him. “What?”

“Valack. He’s dangerous. He’ll try to bargain with you, he’ll want something for his information. Don't give it to him.”

The intelligence shone in her eyes as she searched his face. “Why?”

“It’s in your best interest,” he said simply. “Valack’s known your family for a really long time. He used to work at Eichen.”

Her gaze sharpened further. “My grandmother,” she said, lips pressed tightly together.

Theo nodded. “Your grandmother. He’s a sick son of a bitch, and that’s coming from me. Don’t trust him. Don’t let your guard down.”

“Don’t worry,” Stiles said, his voice cold. “We won’t”

The implied message was clear. And we won’t trust you either.

But Lydia nodded, letting Stiles guide her out of the kitchen.

Liam stirred beside him. “The things you’ve done,” he asked, voice low. “How bad are we talking here?” He sounded nervous.

Theo looked at him, guilt making his borrowed heart twist in his chest. “It was them or me,” he said, voice level. “I chose me.”

“And now?” Liam asked.

“Freedom or death. It’s the same thing really,” Theo muttered, pushing past him and taking one of the free seats. Either he’d be free or he’d be dead. And he had to do everything in his power to ensure that he stayed alive.

The only thing he wouldn’t sacrifice was Liam.

He hoped he wouldn’t regret it.

***

Liam’s heart was troubled as he watched Theo.

Theo had opened up to him so much over the past week, but he was starting to realise that Theo didn’t really think he’d survive the Dread Doctors. There was a resignation to his gaze as he looked between the three chimeras and Mason. He didn’t have many answers for them, looking as lost as they were.

He wanted to help, he did, but he didn’t have much of an idea of what to do either. Most of the supernatural world still baffled him. Before Theo had come on the scene, he hadn’t even known that werewolves could be created on an operating table.

Let alone whatever these three were. According to the files Theo had shown him, Corey was a chameleon who could turn invisible, Josh was a raiju who could absorb and manipulate lightning, and Tracy was a kanima, a creepy lizard that could paralyse. All very powerful, and very scared.

“What’s going to happen to us?” Corey asked, looking at Theo after browsing through his own file. “They said to train us? For what?”

“Test your powers, see how strong you are,” Theo explained wearily. “They want to see if you’ll survive being the host.”

Josh scoffed, leaning back against the couch. “So what? We just wait around for them to find us? Fuck that.”

“No,” Liam agreed, stepping forward to stand in front of them. “Sticking your head in the sand won’t achieve anything. You need to fight.”

Corey visibly blanched. “I don’t know how to fight. I mean, look at me.”

“You’re stronger than you realise,” Liam assured him. “And I don’t mean that you need to run in all guns blazing. I just mean that you can’t give up. If we work together, we can defeat them.”

Tracy finally spoke up, looking at Liam with wide eyes. “How?”

And wasn’t that the million dollar question.

“We’ll figure it out. Together. Scott is a true alpha and our pack has faced down alpha packs, berserkers, hunters. We can beat a couple of scientists.”

The three of them look reassured, but Theo looked at him. His eyes said clearly that he wanted to believe Liam, but that he knew better.

“We’ve got this,” Mason said, speaking mostly to Corey, if Liam wasn’t mistaken. “Liam’s right. I know you’re all scared, but we’ll stick together and we’ll get through this.”

Corey smiled at Mason, and Liam looked away, biting back a smirk. He met Theo’s gaze, who waggled his eyebrows at him.

Liam felt relieved. The pack that they were building now was strong. They could do this.

They had to.

#thiam #liam dunbar #theo raeken #stacked

16 notes · View notes

emeraldtawny · 6 years

Text

Edgar x OC (Eleanor): Masquerade (Pt. 2/5)

Not gonna lie, I’m writing this quicker than I thought woo~! :3

Now we know her name and we get a taste of who she might be and how her relationship with Edgar will play out. If I continue at this rate, I might have another part out tomorrow which will be neat but for now....enjoy part numero dos~

Secrets still remain, questions still remain unanswered. The mask concealing her face stops him from knowing her true face, the only notable point of reference being her striking lavender irises. Finding out who this woman is with just her eyes alone is a tough ask for anybody, even someone as skilled as Edgar. But he is far from deterred, the impulse to find this elusive woman driving him. Every spare second of his free time is spent hunting the smallest leads and every patrol his eyes are searching for her.

He is still confused with himself as to why he is so invested in this woman’s identity. Sure, she knows about him and his duties as the Jack of Hearts and that's enough of a reason to hunt her down, but he knows that's not the only factor in play. The feeling stirring inside him that maybe they're not so different from one another plagues his thoughts whenever he leaves them to run wild. He reins them back in, scolding himself for even considering there is someone who could even come close to understanding him, or knowing of the demons he has had to suppress from the world around him for fear of being discarded and left alone.

Little did he know how wrong he was to dismiss the thoughts so quickly.

Another day patrolling in the Central Quarter and another day of Edgar’s eyes drifting from person to person in the hopes of catching those purple hues in his line of sight. Beside him, Zero notices his superior’s wandering eyes, heaving a short sigh.

“You looking for something?”

Edgar grins, continuing to scan the crowd of people as he responds, “Not particularly. Just normal patrols for any less than acceptable behaviour.”

“You’re never this invested in patrols, Edgar. You’re looking for someone, aren't you? I can help if you tell me.”

Edgar chuckles under his breath, “My dear sweet Zero. You’re really asking to help me? I knew I could count on you being such a good boy.”

Zero meets Edgar’s gaze with distaste, “...On second thought, I don’t think I want to know. This seems like something I don’t want to get dragged into.”

(Very good, Zero. I don’t want you getting involved either, just in case this woman holds more cards up her sleeves than I would like her to.)

The conversation stills as both men return to their patrol. The quiet bustle of neutral territory is calm and peaceful, people going about their day with relative peace, the exceptions being those rushing through the streets for one reason or another. A subtle breeze blows past, bringing with it the smell of freshly baked pastries from one of the many bakeries littered throughout the town. The sweet scent beckoning him, Edgar turns towards the bakery and immediately his façade breaks and his mask drops, eyes widening.

There she is, sitting picturesquely outside a cafe, her legs crossed in a reserved yet elegant fashion as she leans her elbow on the table with her chin in her hand. Her hair is tucked back in a low chignon bun, loose waves of hair framing her face and leaving only the lobes of her ears poking through and revealing her subtle gold hoop earrings. She looks as disinterested as Edgar remembers from that night nearly two weeks back, her light purple eyes gazing almost listlessly at everything and nothing simultaneously. His feet move before he comprehends what he’s doing, Zero looking at him in slight bewilderment.

“Edgar?”

Silently cursing his protege being with him, he turns back to Zero, his perfectly crafted smile leaving nothing to be suspicious of, even to someone like Zero who as known of Edgar’s antics for years.

“Go back to headquarters without me, Zero. I may have found the person I was looking for and wish to have a proper catch up with them.”

His deep blue eyes narrow, before he eventually sighs, “Alright. Just don’t forget about running drills this evening.”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world. Now, run along.”

With a roll of his eyes, Zero turns and heads back to the Red Army barracks. Edgar turns towards the cafe, eyeing the woman still sitting at the table, her hand tapping idly against the glass. His smile falling into a neutral impassive wall, he approaches her with a resolve to get the answers he so desperately seeks.

As he gets closer, the smaller details of her reignite his memory of that night; her delicate hands with her nails painted jet black to match her mask, her lips coated in a gloss to catch your eye but not distract from the overall beauty of her symmetrical face. Yet one thing was missing - the piercing concentration in her bright eyes, now seemingly unfocused as she stares without purpose across the masses of people. Re-establishing his mask, Edgar’s eyes gleam as he sidles up next to her table.

“Pardon me, miss. Is this seat of yours taken?”

The haze in her vague eyes disperses and is replaced with focused laser precision in the blink of an eye, her head snapping around to look at him and his amused smile. Her lips purse in a look of disbelief before she heaves a heavy sigh, turning her face away to prop her chin upon her hand once again.

“The one day I decide not to wear bloody contact lenses…”

Edgar hums as he picks up on her hushed words, his lips spreading to reveal his teeth in a grin, “Now it all makes sense why I couldn’t find you as quickly as I would have liked. How awfully sly of you.”

His last sentence holds venom in his words, yet his face remains jovial. She hardly flinches, turning back to meet his jade eyes, her lavender hues narrowing.

“I wasn’t going to make it easy for you now, was I? The aim is to, y’know, not be found.” She sighs again, readjusting in her seat to face Edgar fully, “Well, I knew it was going to happen with time, I just wasn’t ready for it to be now.”

“You knew I’d find you?”

“I’m not an idiot. I gave the esteemed Jack of Hearts information involving something that’s supposed to be so confidential, I’d be six feet under if I didn’t play my cards right. All without ever letting slip who I was. So yeah, you’d be a right dumbass if you didn’t follow the lead. Glad to see you’re not.”

Edgar frowns as he analyses her, their eyes locked in a staring match as they both attempt to pierce the other’s defences and find holes in their armour. Both are impenetrable, leaving them at a stalemate and in a situation that is undesirable in such a crowded area - using the art of discussion.

“You never answered my question. Is the seat taken?”

She glances at the seat, her head tilting towards it in a motion that clearly says “go ahead”. Sitting down and leaning his forearms against the table, Edgar watches as she positions herself to mimic his pose, leaning against the table and meeting his gaze. With an outwardly innocent smile, Edgar asks the obvious question,

“Now then, let us start from the beginning. Who are you?”

A slight pause, before she ultimately speaks, “Eleanor. Eleanor Lancaster.”

His eyebrows raise almost imperceptibly, “Lancaster? As in that Lancaster family?”

A haze of emotion passes briefly over her eyes, Edgar sensing a nerve being struck. He presses his lips together, mulling over his thoughts.

(If I remember correctly, the Lancasters were a Black Army family running one of the largest con scams in all of Cradle. They were apprehended without warning and now their reign is through. So how does she fit into this if that is indeed her bloodline?)

Eleanor frowns, creases lining her delicate face, “I can tell what you’re thinking. I’m not telling you shit about my life if I don’t have to. I’ll tell you how I know about your “family business”,” those specific words are spoken more quietly amidst the potentially eavesdropping passers-by, “And then I’ll be on my way. Sound like a fair deal?”

“I’m afraid that won’t be enough for me.”

Edgar’s eyes harden in a way that shows it’s clear he is not joking. Eleanor mirrors his exact expression, lips scrunching together in a slight pout as she studies him, letting his words sink in.

“Care to elaborate on that leadingly vague statement?” Eleanor says, reducing the building tension immensely.

“Gladly,” Edgar leans in closer so their faces are no more than a handspan apart, a tiny flicker of a smile ghosting his lips at the subtle look of shock lighting up her eyes, “You’re going to tell me everything: how you know about my duties, how you knew why I was there that night, and what exactly your end goal is for interfering with my affairs.”

(If I can deal with this myself, the aftermath will be much less severe than if I were to involve Uncle in this. It’s in both our interests if she cooperates, so I hope she does.)

Immediately cutting off his thought at the sympathy creeping in, he maintains his poker face, watching for a flicker in her eyes. She holds his eye contact, her tongue poking out between her lips as she bites down lightly, a subconscious action from her deep thoughts, Edgar concludes. After a moment, she closes her eyes as a ghost of a sigh escapes into the air around them.

“It’s going to take more than one afternoon to tell you everything.”

“I can make time for the things that interest me. And you certainly do.”

Her eyes dart away, the subtlest shade of pink dusting over her high cheekbones causing Edgar to grin and chuckle amiably. With a “tch” sound leaving her lips in annoyance, Eleanor returns her gaze to his, her frown dominating her features.

“Couldn’t be any more on the nose could you, you shameless bastard?” She sighs, leaning back to re-establish distance between the two of them, “Fine. I can’t deny that you interest me too, so I’ll play your game as long as you play mine.”

Edgar grins, feeling oddly delighted by her agreeing to his demands. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head. I have a feeling that we’re playing the same game so, if we both abide by the rules, we should both get what we want from this.”

It’s at this point that a waiter approaches the table, setting a pain au chocolat in front of Eleanor with a professional smile.

“Here you are, ma’am,” His gaze flicks to Edgar before asking, “Anything for you, sir?”

With a smile in return, Edgar looks to Eleanor, his demeanour more relaxed than intended as he responds, “A hot chocolate with extra marshmallows, if you would.”

With a nod, the waiter dashes off, leaving the two alone once again. Their discussion begins simply, speaking as if they are old friends catching up after a long time apart, their interaction civil and yet oddly exciting to both participants. Their words are carefully chosen so as not to arouse suspicion from the general public, unknowingly tightening the tether that binds them together; the tether of their unspeakable experiences from their upbringings, while the truly terrible feelings both have repressed for years threaten to break free with the oddly comforting feeling that the other knows of their struggle.

#ikerev #ikerev fanfic #edgar bright #original character #masquerade #I aspire to be as snarky irl as Eleanor #it'll never happen but I can dream dammit XD

24 notes · View notes

ivarthebonemearmy · 7 years

Text

A Heart Can Only Be Broken Once (pt 2)

Part one

Summary: Ivar doesn’t take it well. Ubbe sweeps in like the knight in shining armour that he is.

Word count: 1603

“It’s over, Ivar.”

I watched as his stoic expression began to slip and vulnerability took its place. The hurt and heartbreak etched across his face were evident, but I couldn’t move, couldn’t take back the words, even though my heart pushed me to. I want to wipe out everything bad that happened. I want to take us both away to a place in the past, where there was no place for anything else but the love and devotion we shared for one another. But then I remembered them, their faces and the girl claiming Ivar’s mouth and it hit me like an axe to my already wounded chest. I can’t do it. Too much has happened and I could not allow myself to slip back.

“No,” he whispered, his voice on the point of breaking. “Please, I’ll do anything, anything just please don’t leave me.”

I hated that I was the cause of his heartbreak right now, though he broke my heart too. “It’s for the best, Ivar.”

He leaned back sharply as if I slapped him. The hurt in his eyes now brewing into anger. “Best for who exactly?”

I swallowed loudly, my throat dry all of a sudden. “This. Us.”

His face darkened, even more so with the way the soft glow of the sunlight streaming through the window lit up his sharp angles. I could see the tension in his jaw and the way his nostrils flared. He was at a snapping point and I began to feel a seed of fear being planted at the pit of my stomach that grew with every second. Everything he has done before, his cruelty and what he was capable flashed before my eyes. He has never laid a hand on me, though we have never been in such a compromising situation before, only gods knew how he would and could react.

“You’re mine. I will wait for you and do whatever it takes but you. Are. Mine, “ he said slowly but forcefully, the threat so clear in his voice. Ivar didn’t like to scream, unless it was on the battlefields when he caused blood to flow from the hearts of his enemies, and painted his face crimson. Whenever he bargained or threatened, his voice became a silky low tone aiming to intimidate the best out of everyone, until eventually, he got whatever he wanted. If there was one thing Ivar the Boneless was not used to was hearing the word ‘no’ for one way or another people always gave in to the fear he managed to evoke.

I squeezed my eyes shut, not daring to look at him or succumb to the intensity of his eyes. I knew if I looked into the icy blue of his orbs, my defences would come undone and I would give in to the fear laced with my bodies need of him.

“If I can’t have you, my love, no one can,” he whispered but before I had the courage to open my eyes, I felt him pick himself up and slither away silently. It wasn’t until I heard the door shut that I finally let out the breath I have been holding. I began to fill my lungs with gulps of air to calm the panic that threatened to push itself out of my throat.

“I’m okay,” I whispered to myself, remembering Ubbe’s soft voice. “I’m okay.”

The village was busy, to say the least. Having the Vikings back and roaming all around, the shieldmaidens and more slaves meant the streets all around were swarmed with bodies, shouts of anger and occasional roars of laughter. Once I had carried out most of my chores, I felt my muscles and the tiredness of the past few nights seep in. There was another feast to be had tonight, celebrating life, gods being kind and of course, not all of the adventures of the raid have been told just yet. Most of the people didn’t mind, the food and ale and good company was the very definition of a perfect time for most of the Vikings. Some were getting bored, and tired of the waiting, hunting and cooking for the multitude of people, but none dared to complain to the sons of Ragnar Lothbrok.

I tried not to let my mind wander to him, to the threats and the lines he has drawn. Even though I was tired, I was happy and immensely thankful for any sort of distraction from my loud mind.

“Kari.” A voice snapped me out of my thoughts.

“Bjorn!” I exclaimed as I threw my arms around his neck. “What took you so long to come see me?” I swatted his arm playfully after I let him go.

“Hey, woman. Careful or you’ll kill me with those fierce punches of yours,” he let out a chuckle, a glint of mischief formed in his eyes. I could see his lips twitch to form themselves into a smirk. “Is it me or have you gotten stronger?”

“Are you really insulting me after I have not seen you for such a long time?” I feigned hurt, sniffling dramatically and wiping away invisible tears. “And here I thought I was like a sister to you.”

He threw his head back and laughed. “You are and gods, I missed you. How have you been?”

I shrugged. “You missed me so much, you waited a couple of days to see me?,” I teased. “I’m still breathing, so the gods are still keeping me here for something, though for what I cannot say.”

“Since when have you gotten so deep? A simple ‘okay’ would suffice, you know,” he goaded, though his expression grew serious.” I would’ve come sooner but I couldn’t spend another second without my wife. I missed her too much and we didn’t move for the past few nights.”

I smiled at his dreamy expression whenever he spoke about the one he loved so dearly. I ignored the pang of hurt and whooshed away the memories of seeing Ivar staring me like I was a gift sent from the gods just for him.

“Are you going to the feast tonight?” I asked him. “Since you haven’t been yet and I am sure they cannot wait to hear all the stories you’re holding in that head of yours.”

“No, I have a delicious feast at home and we have more than enough food to satisfy our hunger if you get what I mean.” He wiggled his eyebrows, a soft smirk graced his lips again. For a moment he was silent. “I heard what happened.”

I wasn’t surprised. Once I told Ubbe, I knew the whole ordeal would start circulating, though I still hoped that it wouldn’t be the case. Whether everyone in the village knew didn’t matter, Hvitserk, Ivar, Bjorn and Ubbe had the knowledge, there was no doubt about it and it was just a matter of time before they found them.

“Honestly, I really would rather not talk about it,” I said. I felt like I had to constantly relive it though, though the only thing I wanted to do was move on.

“What about Ivar?” the eldest of the Ragnarssons asked.

“What about Ivar?”

“Well, last time we were here, I was sure you would get married and give him sons and daughters,” he said. “Now you flinch every time his name is mentioned,”

I sighed, looking for the best words to explain. “Ivar and I are over, Bjorn. That’s all you need to know.”

Bjorn looked at me seriously. “But you were meant for each other…”

There was no reply to what he said so I simply shrugged and proceeded to go about my task at hand. From across I saw Ubbe heading our way, a smile stretching across his face when I saw him heading here. Bjorn watched mine and Ubbes silent exchange, his eyes forming questions and own conclusions.

“Hello, Kari,” said Ubbe. “I have been looking for you.”

Bjorn looked between us one more time with calculating eyes. “I have some things to take care of, anyway. I will see you around, Kari,” he said. He nodded to his half-brother in acknowledgement before heading back to the centre. We watched him disappear amongst the stream of people.

“What is it you were looking me for, Ubbe?” I asked, turning to look at him.

He glanced back at me, a serious expression on his face. “We should sit down.”

I furrowed my eyebrows, anticipation forming in the pit of my stomach. “What for?” I asked anxiously.

He threw me a gentle smile and gestured for us to sit down on the soft grass. I mirrored his actions and waited for him to continue.

“I know you are still in love with Ivar,” he began and I tensed at the mention of his brother. “But I have been thinking.”

“Thinking about what?” I breathed out, not liking where this was heading. I never did well with guessing, my mind always going into overdrive making one too many assumptions.

He took my hand in his and intertwined our fingers together. I remembered the first night, us falling asleep sat by the tree, the feeling of safety that it gave me. I forgot how soft it was, where Ivar’s was rough from all the crawling he did. My hand in his looked like a child’s. “Marry me,” he whispered, finally.

I was so mesmerised by the dance our fingers created that I was sure I heard him wrong. My eyes shot up to his, meeting his piercing stare. “What?”

“Marry me,” he said, louder this time.

#Ivar #Ivar the boneless #Ivar fanfic #Ivar x oc #Ivar fanfiction #vikings #vikings fanfiction #vikings tv #Ubbe #Ubbe fanfic #Hvitserk #Bjorn ironiside

102 notes · View notes

darkdescentrpg · 7 years

Photo

full name: juliette cordelia winthrop

species : shadowhunter

age : twenty eight

gender : female ( she / her )

faceclaim : eiza gonzalez

“Let her sleep, for when she wakes, she will move mountains”

It’s said that opposites attract but sometimes the line is too blurry. Perhaps we all aim for the same goal but from time to time feelings cloud up our reasoning and judgement - don’t believe it? Here’s proof.

Juliette Cordelia Winthrop was born in Paris as both a blessing and a curse to Freya Verlac and Gregory Penrose. There was no denying the young woman had seen her birth as a way of getting back the close bond she had once shared with the man she befriended and met at the Paris Institute, being her mother Élodie Verlac the head of it. On the other hand, the shadowhunter had considered this a selfish obstacle, meant to distract him from the one secret Freya wasn’t aware of: Gregory was one to clean the way for Jonathan to take over her cousin’s identity. Around 2007, Jonathan had stepped into Sebastian’s shoes - an uncle that the one-year-old would’ve met only once before his death. Gregory knew it was time to get Freya out of the way too - the less connection she had with Sebastian, the least she’d suspect of Jonathan.

Their next destination had been chosen: Amsterdam. But no secret would be safe as long as the truth was known by someone else. It couldn’t have been a coincidence that only weeks later, Freya’s attempt to track down her cousin resulted on her death. Living out of a suitcase was part of Gregory’s agenda now but he knew he owed their daughter a better future than he couldn’t offer with the amount of guilt that was starting to weight on his shoulders as everything sank in. In hopes of making up for his mistakes, Juliette was left in the hands of an adoptive family in Boston - the Wintrops. As a toddler, Juliette recalled having a beautiful house and loving parents who she’d always consider them to be her biological ones. Their close bond to the Silvermore family quickly made Freya and her daughter grow fond of the other family – moving in that huge world on her own was a difficult task, but Juliette saw in the Silvermore siblings her favourite childhood friends and soon learning to take her first breaths, walk her first steps or learn about the hidden world that awaited seemed a lot easier with them by her side.

Instead of being by his daughter’s side as she learned to find her place in that world, Gregory spent years hiding. He’d occasionally show up at the Wintrops’ house to check on his daughter but his visits became less and less frequent as Juliette approached her teenage years. Only when she was 11 years old, Juliette found herself learning the truth about the ordinary world she had always known. Everything had happened so quickly: one moment she was chasing her sister around the park while her parents, Mr. and Mrs. Silvermore kept their eyes on their offspring from the distance, the next all her nightmares came true and she couldn’t begin to describe the creature that took her sister’s last breath. That had been the breakpoint: Juliette couldn’t remain naive about her surroundings and threats.

Everything began to be different again. But one thing hadn’t changed ever since she stepped into that world: Frederick Silvermore had remained by her side regardless and the pieces were starting to fall into place with help of the wisdom and kindness that would make of him someone special in her heart. Despite the many friends she had lost, the isolation that surrounded her, that one childhood best friend was the only one she could see as her parabatai…unless there was something more. That stopped being possible as soon as they began dating. In a twisted way, she had found someone she cared deeply about and she had made sure to demonstrate that. Her life had become her own kind of fairytale but she should’ve known it wasn’t always easy to put up with her behavior. They both dragged one another into their own world of craziness and the safety they had given each other was temporary - it was only a matter of time to make them understand that their relationship was built on a love neither of them could escape even when it was evident a walk on their own could be a way to prevent disasters. They were so similar and so different sometimes. Since a young age he had been too mature for kids his age, looking forward to spending a quiet day with his books and trying to learn as much about the world as he could. However, it was around their twenties that for an instance they seemed to switch roles and his stubbornness reminded him of hers. She had been trying to be coherent and make him see through the pressure he was putting himself under or the consequences this could have. The outcome had been pretty dangerous: she had insisted - he needed a break but that wasn’t part of his plan and soon the two were involved in a hunt that almost got both of them killed.

After that incident, a year long break came along. The two had been at New York City’s institute for awhile now upon Freddie’s insistence and Juliette’s eagerness for adventure. During their time apart, the brunette developed a rather careless, vain and narcissistic attitude. She’d no go on a hunt before making sure she could have some fun flirting around and teasing those who were about to disappear under her blade - she knew in her heart that undoubtedly her heart belonged to Frederick. However, she had never expected to bump into Jonathan Morgenstern and have a whole new side of her life revealed to herself. His words had always been too convincing when talking about her past with clear proof despite her wariness. He’d say something and she’d spent nights at the Institute’s library searching for the right answers. Yes, her father was Gregory Penrose, indeed - someone that she was eager to meet now and Jonathan would use that to his own benefit. He had once pretended to be this woman’s uncle, he could now use the secrets the family hadn’t been wise enough to reveal however he wanted. Aware of the fact the person who was telling her this was the same man she had come to the institute to bring down, she didn’t allow the darkness to blind her completely. It was up to her deciding what to do with the truth she now held as a secret but she knew exactly why Jonathan had decided to bring this up - wouldn’t she try to learn about the whys of her father’s decisions and feel identify with them as if she belonged elsewhere?

Juliette finds herself holding Frederick’s hand once again - but now with a new surname that weight on her shoulders as she walks through the Institute’s doors and hopes nobody will even begin to suspect. She knows that all the reputation she’s been working on can disappear in a blink of an eye due to a mere last name. But what she hasn’t spoken about yet is the way her independent attitude could make of her just a betrayer like her father if they were to find out her new intentions around the Institute. She’s more than sure she’d never turn her back on those who are just like a huge family to her - but she also believes she can take on this on her own without any help. There is the plan: she was told to act as if she were cooperating with the Clave when her real goal is to steal the Mortal Cup behind its back and take it to Jonathan. The story repeats but little does he know she’s not willing to follow her father’s path. If anything, she’d try to remain close to him and wait for the right amount of information or moment to strike back. Will she succeed or will her good intentions be misunderstood and left to have her father’s fate? Or will she swallow her pride and speak to the Clave? Will she find out who was her sister’s murderer? Either way, she knows where home is: the Institute and its people.

Juliette doesn’t show her feelings much, but she is more vulnerable than her guarded and apparent aloofness may lead others to believe. Since she was considered to be beautiful and knew so, too, she used it to her advantage. However, toying with boys and girls wasn’t as fun as she thought it was. Especially when she aged to her more mid-twenties years. She had responsibilities and was needed more in her missions rather than the clubs or at parties meeting new people. She is hard and soft; she is intense and easy going; she is strong and vulnerable; she is safe and dangerous; she is logical and impulsive. She is strong and aggressive, but her brokenness and her emotions are not buried far beneath her tough exterior. She’s the kind of tough girl who doesn’t let things like that get to her, or at least on the outside. At 28-years-old, she doesn’t resemblance the sweet and innocent child she had once been at all. She has an outspoken attitude, fierce charisma, and witty tongue. Most of the time, she doesn’t give a shit about everything. Although if you get to know her, she’ll compromise herself to look after the people she cares about. Generally speaking, the girl is ruled by her insecurities, despite a confident exterior. However, despite her manipulative and often ruthless behaviour, she is revealed to have a sensitive and loving nature as well. This side is revealed time and time again especially when she must come to the defence of someone she cares about. She is fully aware of her desirability and capacity for manipulative behaviour as well.

Juliette is played by Victoria.

#char #taken #female #juliette winthrop #eiza gonzalez #shadowhunter

2 notes · View notes

starr-fall-knight-rise · 5 years

Text

Humans are Space Orcs “High Altitude Low Opening”

Whipped something up for you guys this morning, decided I needed to incorporate a few more of the alien races that I have mentioned in the past. Sort of based on events that happened after Color Vision, but you don’t need to have read it.

“We can’t stop them, they are hemmed in by the mountains, guarded on all sides and they shoot down any aircraft that dares to come close with supporting troops. Before our informant was killed he managed to send us a message that the Gnar’lak have reverse engineered Finnari rocket technology and from there plan to leave the planet destroying it completely on the way out.” There was silence in the council chamber as the statement set in. All around, the grand halls echoed with the shuffling of many feet.

“Why…. what is the point of that?”

The council turned to find the human delegation looking more than a little confused.

The Finnari representative sighed deeply, “Their hatred of us has been a core trait of their species for centuries. Once upon a time they fed upon our peoples life force for nourishment. We were kept as livestock to fuel their hunger until eventually escaping their control, but by that time evolution had taken it’s course. They must drain us to live, and are completely unsuited to empathy towards us, which would make consuming us that much more difficult. In essence they were designed to hate us, and now that the technology exists to sustain them, they have no real reason to stay.” He hummed thoughtfully, “Then there is, of course, their grudge against the humans.”

The human council seemed surprised, “Grudge, what grudge.”

The Finnari whistled amused “May I remind you, Commander, that once upon a time you and your crew single handedly defeated one of their greatest armies saving us from enslavement and possible extinction.”

The commander’s mouth opened in a surprised, “Oh, right. I forgot about that. I didn’t realize it had been such a heavy blow. It was one battle after all, and we only pushed them back.”

“You Killed nearly all of their mature mating females.”

“Oh….. whoops.”

He waved a hand, “No matter, the point is their population took a heavy hit and it will take decades for them to rebuild, if they recover at all. Either way they plan on destroying the planet out of spite for us and for you who sided with us.”

“Does that seem a bit of an over reaction to everyone else, or is that just me?” The commander glanced around the room for support.

“If they had a true name, Commander, I am sure the phrase “over reaction” would be in the title…. Now the true issue is how to even bother lying siege on them. The mountains make it impenetrable, all large ground vehicles, and low flying jets will be shot down. Not to mention that the terrain is not suited for large amounts of troops or military vehicles.”

The human Commander stood and walked forward to examine the map, “This can be delt with…. But it depends on how many of them you'd be willing to kill.” The room went very silent, and the human looked up “Guided missiles, nuclear weapons, artillery, or biological warfare. There are plenty of ways to deal with the issue, the biggest problem is that most of them will be lethal…. Likely for the entire remaining population.”

No one spoke for the longest time, until the chairwoman leaned forward in her seat, “As dire as this situation may be commander, we would rather avoid such extreme measures. Not to mention that their anti-air defences are sophisticated enough to intercept a missile and if that was nuclear you'd be affecting the entire planet.”

The man tapped his chin then paused, “How sophisticated is their system?”

“Quite radar pared with physics analysis mark objects based on speed, shape, movement and density. Anything larger than ten units, or ten pounds, traveling over 200 miles per hour, with an aerodynamic shape, and moving on a predictable vector course will be targeted.”

The commander leaned over the table eyes locked up on the map with that predatory way that humans had when thinking, almost as if he was preparing himself for a hunt, “What if an object were to hit only one of those requirements.”

“What do you mean.”

“Say you had an unpredictable object traveling at 120 miles per hour or slower, but with a weight of up to 250 pounds?”

“How would these objects be entering the airspace?”

“From directly above.”

“Like it was falling…..?”

The human smiled, “Exactly like that.”

The council glanced at each other, “I don’t think that would even register on Anti Air for meteorites, but commander, what sort of technology would you be using.”

“No technology really.” The man stood, “We would be doing this the old fashioned way, and if we do it right, no one has to get hurt.”

“And what exactly is the old fashioned way.”

“HALO.”

***

“You aren’t serious!” Krill screeched from the small antichamber off the GA council room. The Rundi chairwoman and one representative of each council stood around the table with shocked looks on their faces.

“For fuck’s sake. Can you just be safe or FIVE MINUTES, every time I turn my back you ahve some stupid idea….”

“This isn’t the first time that I have done it.” The man replied calmly, “It was part of my training during flight school. One involved a simulated ejection from 15,000 feet and one was a HALO certification from 35,000 feet.”

“This is stupidity.”

“Madness.”

The room chorused with agreement, even the Drev counselor seemed put off by the idea .

“It makes sense. The high altitude is outside the Anti Air range, with minimal metal and an unpredictable landing vector, we would be unseen by their radar. If we open low it reduces the amount of time those on the ground would be able to see us all the better if we are thermally cloaked like they are. In that case we would be invisible by standards of radar and by those on the ground. We could send in troops, get in, and take over the entire encampment in a matter of hours with no bloodshed.”

“This is madness.” The Drev counselor spoke in, “When we asked for your tactical expertise commander, we hardly expected you to volunteer to throw yourself from the sky.”

There was a muttering of agreement around the room.

“I know you humans are durable, but not even you can survive in that kind of environment.”

The human sighed and rolled his eyes, “We have been doing this for literally thousands of years. Some people do it for fun.” he growled silencing the room, “My point is humans have the perfect solution, and no one would have to get hurt,”

At the head of the room, the Rundi chairwoman shook her head, “We can’t allow this. It is far too dangerous.”

“Did all of you miss the part where we will have parachutes?”

The room stared at him confused.

Turns out that not one of their languages had a comparable word for the piece of technology, and the translation was less than adequate.

With a sigh the human ordered a five minute break while one of his crew members ran to get an example. WHen they came back, Commander Vir threw the backpack on the table, “Welcome to show and tell everyone, gather round, gather round. You see this.” He said tugging at the backpack’s straps, “This is what is keeping me from slamming into the ground at 120 miles per hour.”

They stared at him blankly.

“Here’s how it works.” He grabbed the backpack and looped his arms through the straps threading his legs through the harness and tightening the cords, “This harness will keep me attached to the bag while I am falling.” He hooked his thumb under a little blue clip, “This is the cord, once I pull this, the bag opens, and the chute comes out.” he had his assistant open one of the bags and began pulling the large nylon tarp across the ground. The representatives stepped back.

“The nylon is shaped in such a way that when deployed it increases air resistance and drag slowing previous 120 to 17 miles per hour.” The group murmured in surprise and he held up a hand to Krill who had opened his mouth in protest, “And before you have a conniption, the harness distributes the forces caused by the sudden deceleration. If the cord doesn't deploy the parachute when pulled, there are TWO backup cords after that. F neither of those work, you grab these tabs on the side which pull the entire back of the bag off releasing the chute inside.”

“What are the health risks.” Krill stubbornly continued.

“The bends, hypoxia, but both of those things can be dealt with. Nitrogen is released from the blood prior to jump, and pur oxygen is provided while the altitude is too high. Temperatures are mitigated with warm clothing. Honestly the biggest danger is an awkward landing and twisting your ankle. Seventeen miles an hour is pretty slow, some humans can run that fast, and coming in at a shallow angle helps for sure.”

The aliens looked on unsure and nervous staring at the human with increased awe. Many of them had almost become used to the human’s strange behaviors, but this? This was an entirely new level of insane, falling from the sky at hundreds of miles an hour on a cloudy day….. It was truly insane.

Unspeakably so.

“And where would you find people willing to do this?” The chairwoman asked tenatively.

The human smiled, and that wolfish grin was enough to cause the entire assembly chamber to squirm, “Oh, I know just the people.”

***

“Hell yeah!.”

“WHOOP WHOOP!”

“Let’s go kick ETs ass!”

The plane rattled slightly coming upon a low pressure pocket. Their voices were somewhat muffled inside their oxygen masks and goggles rocking in their seats and against their harnesses. Krill and sunny stood inside the jet looking at each other in great trepidation.

Krill was so mad he had gone from ranting to enraged silence.

He refused even to speak to the Commander as he monitored their vitals.

Every time he passed by, the little doctor would slap the man in the helmet as hard as he could, which amounted to nothing more than amusement for the human. Sunny’s feet clattered across the deck, and she wobbled a bit as she knelt in front of him behind his mask. Two eyes stared back at her today him having ditched the eyepatch for a prosthetic for obvious reasons. Behind the clear plastic surface, she watched his eyes crinkle a bit the way humans had when they were smiling, really smiling.

“I know I usually encourage your insanity, but this…. This is too much.” She muttered

“Stop being such a mother hen.” He chided softly, “I'll be fine.” he winked with the fake eye, “I’m indestructible.

“That attitude is what worries me.” She patted his shoulder watching the amusement in his bright green eye.

A human made a gagging noise off to the side, “Get a room already you two.” Ramirez chimed in.

“Seriously if this gets any more touching I might just cry.” Maverick responded

“True love!” Someone yelled.

“Wuv twue Wuv is what bwings us togeva today.”

The commander sat up in his seat, “Shut your trash mouths you hooligans.”

“NEAR, FAR, WHEREVER YOU ARE, I BELIEVE THAT THE HEART WILL GO ON!” Their voices were a discordant wash of half yelling half singing all in different keys arms around each other, swaying back and forth.

The commander punched Ramirez in the arm but it didn’t stop him from singing, though eventually their voices petered away.

“Someone forgot to bring our soundtrack?”

“What soundtrack?”

“Come on, shouldn't someone be playing Fortunate Son?”

Commander Vir shook his head, “Fortunate son is for helicopters, just like Danger Zone is for jets.” he turned to Sunny and Krill, “The two of you better get inside.” Sunny patted him on the shoulder before reluctantly retreating behind the door. The lights in the back went dark, and the pilot came over the line, “Depressurizing.”

She felt and heard the plane rattled as the ramp hissed open peering through the little window in the door. Red light illuminated the darkness behind them casting the humans into silhouettes as they were ordered into a standing position grabbing handles on the ceiling to keep themselves up. Sunny watched heart hammering as Adam raised a hand holding high waiting for a signal.

The lights in the back of the jet blinked green and the arm cut downwards.

The marines broke into a jog towards the end of the ramp.

She couldn't look away. At her side Krill cursed repeatedly and creatively.

The first of the marines leaped suspended for a moment framed against the cloudy sky, but a blink later and they were gone. Adam followed after the last marine stepping up to the edge of the ramp turning around to wave at sunny before pitching backwards into darkness.

***

Wind roared tugging at their clothes pressing against their faces their arms held out to the side. Breath came in short ragged gasps inside the plastic oxygen masks that cover their faces. All around them the sky was dark, nothing but the glowing hands of their altitude gages. Darkness enfolded them and the wind continued to scream as their bodies fell helplessly from the sky.

Time roared by with with the passage of the wind, and the gage inched twaords 3,000 than passed it. They had agreed at 1,5000. The clouds broke around them, and the ground below grew closer and closer and closer. The well of the mountains rose up in their vision.

One thousand five hundred, they reached out, and chute’s exploded upwards with the flapping of wings. They waited with bated breath for Anti Air fire, but when none came, they remained silent slowly curving themselves towards the ground. A ground that was quickly approaching.

In orbit, the GA ship circled slowly watching with awe and horror the feeds sent to them by cameras on the Human’s uniforms.

***

The Gnar’lak general had been working late on his plans. The FInnari had driven them back with the help of the so called GA and were now threatening his species with extinction. Why they would side with such a disgusting primitive race continued to boggle his mind, a mind which was admittedly one track and aggressively unimaginative.

The Gnar’lak had survived for thousands of years in an almost opposite way to the humans. Where they were cognitively adaptable, the Gnark’lak had survived being straight forward and unchangeable. Where this evolution had helped them to survive in the past, when diplomacy became involved they found their species to be falling behind, a relic of a more barbaric time.

Of course this was not something they were particularly capable of seeing since their minds were not built for possibilities and philosophical debate. The Gnar’lak knew two things, survival, and that the only way to get it was the Finnari….. Well I guess he knew three things and the third was that the Finnari were nothing more than a resource to be used and farmed. It was that simple, it seemed reprehensible that a logical species would take up arms against him with a source of food.

It would be similar to aliens coming down from the sky on earth and siding with cows against humans, or at least that’s how they saw it despite the Fennari being sentient and greatly more intelligent than cows.

All of this thinking was making him angry, and with a foot he shoved open the door to walk out into the early morning sunrise.

What he found, was his entire army immobilized on the ground before his dwelling. Six humans dressed in dark gear, and holding familiar weapons stood before his door. One human had his lieutenant pinned to the ground with a boot weapon pointed at his head. Another human was busying themselves tying up another platoon of his soldiers.

One stood patiently outside his door as if waiting for him.

He stared in disbelief.

“Good morning general.” The human said baring its hideous teeth at him, “By the power invested in me, Commander Vir of the UNSC Harbinger and the GA, you are hereby detained for the callous plotting of genocide and world destruction.”

He glanced away wondering if he could run, but a soft click and the human’s smooth voice stopped him, “I wouldn’t do that if i were you general.”

He turned his head staring at the ugly creature, “Something…. Seems familiar.”

The human simply grinned, “maybe, i've been here once before….. To assist a rebellion.”

The general knew exactly who the human was.

And even he knew there was no chance of escape.

#humans are insane #humans are space orcs #humans are space australians #humans are spaceoddities #HUMANS ARE WERID #earth is a deathworld #Earth is space Ausralia

1K notes · View notes

incursionofthedamnedrpg · 6 years

Photo

Millicent Delaney Accepted! You know what to do, Beatrice.

Name: Beatrice

Age: 22

Timezone: GMT

State an account where we can message you: On this account please!

How active you’re going to be: 6

How did you find out about this roleplay? I’m already here!

Why do you want to play this character? She’s going to be a change of pace compared to my other characters. She’s numb to all emotions which gives me growth for the character and she’s just the right amount of psycho.

Anything else you would like to tell us? Nada!

IC:

Preferred Ships: Millicent/Chemistry Always!

Sample para:

RFP

Template must be filled out, please make your character 16+ (we do not accept young ages), and be sure to run a faceclaim by the main first!

Name: Millicent ‘Millie’ Delaney Birthday: November 10th (23) Species: Hybrid Lookalike: Zoey Deutch Availability: Taken

Personality

Millicent is a strong personality. She doesn’t back down which is both her saving grace and her biggest curse. It means she never knows when to stop and often goes too far past the line. Her past of being raised in a ruthless hunter family with no sense of mercy has led to her to a numb life. She has seen death since she was a child and it is one thing that doesn’t bother her. Even the number of times she has been tortured because of her parent’s job, she doesn’t respond much to the bad side of life. But she does struggle with people who are kind to her. She doesn’t know how to respond to genuine compliments. Some say she was built like a robot. Void of much emotion and programmed specifically. Millicent does often try to break out of this shell and tries to feel alive. She wants to live and have fun without the emotional side of things. Relationships are a no-no but one night stands, who could say no? Millicent does have a strong sense of loyalty to those that deserve it and would happily defend them in whatever way she can.

Past

Millicent’s story starts before she was even born. Right down to her name being chosen. Her parents were hunters and ruthless ones at that so when her mother became pregnant, this was not a weakness. This was a strength and that is exactly what Millicent’s name means; strength. However, her surname was a sign of things to come. Delaney; meaning ‘child of dark deviance’. Her parents spared no mercy as a child to shield her from their lives. She was raised seeing dead bodies and headless vampires on the floor of her living room. She was even fighting them at the age of seven. Most would call this cruel but Millicent was born in to this. It was what she was meant to do. She was raised on the road around Europe before the family moved to America when she was twelve years old. She was home educated in terms of school educations and taught on the battlefield with how to defend herself.

In her teenage years, the defence she was taught caused her to trigger the one thing that her parents could never anticipate. The werewolf gene. Her mother held the gene but had never triggered it since they only killed the supernatural but one night when Millicent was twenty, she was out trying to have a good time when a man dragged her to an alley in a bid to do things that were less than gentlemanly. People often regarded Millicent as an easy target because of her 5′3″ height but this man was in for the surprise of his life. She easily managed to knock him out and dragged him to an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of town. This was where she used her torturing skills for days until she eventually killed him. A change took place in her body but she couldn’t place it.

Millicent never told her parents about this so the next full moon, she joined her parents on a hunt for a group of vampires causing trouble in Minnesota. She had felt increasingly angry all day and was itching to kill something so when the moon hit its apex, her bones began to break. She had separated from her parents and turned in to a wolf without their knowledge and murdered all the vampires in that den - ripping them to shreds. Her parents watched in shock and aimed to harm the wolf so followed it. That was when they found their daughter on the ground out of wolf form. On the spot, they disowned her and left her behind. Out of anger, that is when Millicent began to call herself Millie. She didn’t want to be associated with them any longer.

She moved to Portland, Oregon and found a werewolf pack but she was a little too angry and kill-driven for them. She was about to leave when Klaus arrived and turned them all in to hybrids. She knew exactly who Klaus was from her time as a hunter but once becoming a hybrid, she was no longer feeling hatred towards him. She was sired to him and she couldn’t be happier. It hadn’t taken him long to find out her skill set in torture and killing and given her unsuspecting look, she was a perfect little weapon for him. While most of his original hybrids were murdered by residents of Mystic Falls over the years, she was often out of town on jobs for Klaus which ended up saving her ass.

Present

Millie is still sired to Klaus which she doesn’t mind so much since he has not told her to do anything she wouldn’t do herself. This doesn’t mean she wouldn’t like to be unsired. She’d still be incredibly loyal to him and do his bidding. But while she wants her freedom from the sire bond, she wants it to be Klaus’s choice and not through betrayal since she does actually look up to and like Klaus as a person. Millie has never brought this up to him as there has never been a good time. Millie has been out of town in recent months dealing with a problem in Wisconsin. A group of werewolves wanting to bring down Klaus. It is fair to say they are all doing much better without their heads and with the job done, it is time to return to Mystic Falls. Hopefully, she can have a break and actually enjoy herself for a bit.

Connections

Klaus Mikaelson

She admires him as a person but still wishes that one day he may willingly unsire her given her loyalty to him without the sirebond in play.

Stefan Salvatore

He was helping Klaus when she was first turned in to a hybrid but she knows he is not that person anymore.

I’ve not decided on a third connection yet, I’ll decide if she’s accepted and who she might get on with or not get on with.

#Accepted

0 notes

idornaseminary · 7 years

Text

Chapter Sixty-Nine: Natasha and Calix

The festivities in Old Aroon were in full swing by the time Natasha got there. As usual, plenty of alumni had shown up, desperate to see their old school again, which meant there were far more people around than usual. She still had no problem cutting through the crowd, as almost anyone who saw her wanted to get out of her way. She gave off an aura that made people wary and uncomfortable, which she liked quite a bit.

She had planned on staying in her room and preparing for the dangerous trip that they were about to embark upon, but she had an issue to settle first. None of the others seemed to trust her much, besides possibly Beatrice, and even that was shaky. She didn’t mind at all, and in fact didn’t particularly want their trust, but Calix was going to be an issue. If something went wrong, she doubted he would be very willing to help her, and may even blame her. In the interest of self-preservation, she had to make nice for at least a bit.

She had checked the infirmary and around the castle for him, but wasn’t surprised to not find him there. That was why she had ventured into Old Aroon, to look for him so that they could talk. When her eyes finally landed on him, he was with Beatrice and a man she didn’t recognize, presumably an alum. She still had no issue walking up to them with a sweet grin on her face.

“Beatrice, Calix, hello!” she said, the dangerous note in her chipper voice barely detectable. “Fancy meeting you here.”

Calix’s blood, filled with passion and joy as he spoke with his girlfriend and her father, who had returned to say goodnight before retiring, ran icy cold like a river of ichor frozen in late winter at the sound of the enchanting siren’s sickly sweet voice, the underlying danger and menace scarcely noticeable through the cheerful and lively veneer. He glanced up at her from the confines of the wooden booth, an inclement tempest building in his grey eyes. Calix had been through enough that evening, with more peril to come at the stroke of midnight, without the arrival of Natasha Kraus.

“Fancy that. Can we help you,” he snapped, but the anger was hidden behind a wall, not wanting his emotions to govern his actions in front of his girlfriend’s father and his boss. He slipped past Beatrice to the edge of the booth and stood protectively in front of the Selwyns.

Natasha pretended to look shocked at his hostility when in reality she would have been more surprised if she hadn’t heard it. “I just wanted to say hello,” she told him, tucking a bit of her dark hair behind her ear. “I’m sorry if I’ve interrupted something. But I also wanted to ask you about that project for our Charms class?” she asked. “I was hoping we could discuss it outside.” She was sure Calix would be well aware they did not share a class together, but hoped he would want her away from the Selwyns and would go with her anyway.

Calix clenched down hard on his tongue, his teeth slicing through the soft skin and a rivulet of blood pouring forth as the thin barrier collapsed under the pressure. Calix knew Natasha had never shared a single class with him, but he understood the inherent message behind the fabrication. He nodded, afraid his words would betray him, turning on his heels to kiss Beatrice’s forehead gently, cupping her rosy cheeks in his strong hands.

“I won’t be long, my love,” Calix softly spoke, “I’ll be back in a few short moments.”

He begrudgingly stepped away, unwilling to leave Beatrice, and glared at the witch. He pointed towards the crowd, pushing past her and stepping through the rapturous and raving masses towards the cold air of the moonlit streets outside.

Natasha couldn’t help her slight smirk as Calix pushed ahead through the crowd, offering a friendly wave to the two left in the booth as she followed after him. Once they were in a relatively private area, she dropped the pretenses.

“You don’t like me,” she said, her voice a bit flat as she looked at him. “I know that, and the feeling is mutual. But tonight, it will be by far in your best interest to put just a little bit of faith in me. Do you think you can manage that?”

Natasha had no doubt that the mediwizard would have no hesitation to hex her if he had the chance, which was why she was having this conversation with him in the first place. She wanted to survive this trip that already seemed like a suicide mission, and was trying to eliminate unnecessary risks.

When the air hit him, Calix shuddered, the cutting, boreal wind seeping into his bones. He cursed himself not forgetting his jacket in his anger, his warmth and compassion leaching out into the surroundings, lost to the world around him. He defensively crossed his arms in front of him, half the cogs in his mind screaming at him to draw his wand and get the answers that he wanted one way or another when the witch dropped her schrade, and the remaining gearwheels were begging him not to do something rash that could endanger those closest to him.

“You’re right,” he concurred, “We don’t like each other. Why? Because ever since Sam met you here in Old Aroon, he can’t stop freaking out whenever he thinks of you. Every time he sees you, he panics, like it’s some sort of Pavlovian conditioning. And, if I’m honest, I actually think there’s something very twisted about doing that to another person. But, let’s say I can manage to play nice, taking I could’ve hexed your sorry ass back in the Den when you were completely exhausted if I’d wanted to, will you be able to stand by me and not piss me off like a spoilt brat? Or try and get inside my head like you do with everyone else? Is that something you can do?”

The German had expected hostility. That didn’t come as a surprise to her, but considering how well the boy had done at holding his cool in front of others, the sudden outburst she got was a bit of shock. She smirked slightly though, impressed that even if she couldn’t manipulate him as she did most people, she could still get him this riled up.

“I did you and your little group a huge favor by doing that. I owe none of you anything, anything at all, which means that, effectively, you owe me. So I’ll behave however I want to, and you can stay out of my way. And I can guarantee that hexing me then would have been a bad choice, for both your and Sam’s sakes, as it would be now.”

Calix took a deep breath, filling his lungs with glacial air that pierced and numbed the tissues and made breathing difficult. The witch’s smirk, cunning and sadistic, like a fox on the hunt for prey or a crow diving for carrion, was caustic. When she mentioned Sam, Calix’s fingers flexed, crying out for the smooth touch of his wand, tucked beneath his shirt for later. He realised too late that he had allowed her to gain a foothold, allowed her to slip past his defences and start chipping away at the protective walls he had built. He wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.

“You did that favour out of the goodness of your heart,” Calix said, a mocking tone mirroring the German’s sickly sweet voice, but varnished with a pleasantry that was difficult to peel back, “No one forced you to help us. No one. You did that all of your own free will, and I’m sure you’re marching into the Gladur with us in the same frame of mind. I know exactly why you’re tagging along, my dear, and I have no problem in playing house with you, if you’re willing to do the same. Let’s not forget, you started all this horrid business. Alright?”

Natasha raised an eyebrow. “Really? You think you know me?” she asked, stepping slightly closer. “You think you understand why I’m helping you, when any sane person would be running as far away from this suicidal task as possible?” She smirked a bit, seeing how he was almost twitching with annoyance, how his fingers were trembling with the desire to draw his wand and curse her. She was pushing her luck, but she didn’t care. He was just too much fun to play with.

“And I am happy to play along, although I’m sure you have more of a stake in it than I do. I would hate for poor Beatrice to be upset by us fighting. The girl is just a bit too...fainthearted for that.” Natasha had something of a threat in her voice, the smirk still toying at her dark lips.

Calix steadied himself, bracing when the witch mentioned Beatrice’s name as well, a feeling of utter disgust twisting his stomach into knots and poisoning the butterflies that fluttered there.

Of course, she knows.

He unwisely closed his eyes for a second to regain his composure. Natasha was an expert at manipulation, at exposing someone’s natural weakness, the fault lines and stresses that when pressured shattered into a thousand shards and allowed the siren’s voice to sweep in and take control. For Calix, it was the people he loved, those closest to him that he would move mountains for - they were his greatest strengths and his greatest weaknesses.

Unlike her, he wasn’t a manipulator nor a persuader: he couldn’t fight at her level. But, with a smirk, he knew she couldn’t win either. There would be no victory, no loss - that he could play. He contemplated playing the one trump card he knew would break through every little barrier the witch had, watch what happened when Calix turned the tables of faith and enjoyed the changing biochemistry if he mentioned McKayla Steele. But, he wasn’t like her. He wouldn’t do that, even in his anger.

“I think, you’ve drawn all this on yourself. I don’t know you like you said, and maybe if you weren’t so intent on being a bitch all the time, we’d actually get on. But, hey, that’s up to you. Just leave them out of it. Do I make myself clear? Because it’s your insistence on hurting those around me that’s the problem.”

Natasha shook her head a bit. She knew this was her fault, and frankly, didn't care. She watched him for another moment and told him, “I won't touch or harm either of them. Is that what you want to hear?”

She smirked softly. She was still under the impression that he had him cornered, not that he was withholding some sort of trump card that she knew nothing about.

“Just remember that I can break Sam like a twig if you try to mess with me, okay?”

With a small wave, she walked off, proud of herself for what she assumed was a victory.

#Script #Natasha #Calix

0 notes

darkdescentrpg · 7 years

Photo

Congratulations, VICTORIA! You have been accepted as JULIETTE WINTHROP with the faceclaim of EIZA GONZÀLEZ. We like the detail in your application, there was clearly a lot of thought behind Juliette and can’t wait to see her interacting with our other characters. We’re so excited to have you! Please go through our checklist and send in your account within 24 hours.

Out of Character

Name. Victoria

Pronouns. she/her

Age.18

Timezone. GMT-3

Triggers. none

In Character

Full Name. Juliette Cordelia Winthrop

Gender & Pronouns. Female | she/her

Age. 28

Species. Shadowhunter

Faceclaim. Eiza González // Phoebe Tonkin

Quote. “Let her sleep, for when she wakes, she will move mountains”

Biography.

Everything began to be different again. But one thing hadn’t changed ever since she stepped into that world: Frederick Silvermore had remained by her side regardless and the pieces were starting to fall into place with help of the wisdom and kindness that would make of him someone special in her heart. Despite the many friends she had lost, the isolation that surrounded her, that one childhood best friend was the only one she could see as her parabatai...unless there was something more. That stopped being possible as soon as they began dating. In a twisted way, she had found someone she cared deeply about and she had made sure to demonstrate that. Her life had become her own kind of fairytale but she should’ve known it wasn’t always easy to put up with her behavior. They both dragged one another into their own world of craziness and the safety they had given each other was temporary - it was only a matter of time to make them understand that their relationship was built on a love neither of them could escape even when it was evident a walk on their own could be a way to prevent disasters. They were so similar and so different sometimes. Since a young age he had been too mature for kids his age, looking forward to spending a quiet day with his books and trying to learn as much about the world as he could. However, it was around their twenties that for an instance they seemed to switch roles and his stubbornness reminded him of hers. She had been trying to be coherent and make him see through the pressure he was putting himself under or the consequences this could have. The outcome had been pretty dangerous: she had insisted - he needed a break but that wasn’t part of his plan and soon the two were involved in a hunt that almost got both of them killed.

Juliette doesn’t show her feelings much, but she is more vulnerable than her guarded and apparent aloofness may lead others to believe. Since she was considered to be beautiful and knew so, too, she used it to her advantage. However, toying with boys and girls wasn’t as fun as she thought it was. Especially when she aged to her more mid-twenties years. She had responsibilities and was needed more in her missions rather than the clubs or at parties meeting new people. She is hard and soft; she is intense and easy going; she is strong and vulnerable; she is safe and dangerous; she is logical and impulsive. She is strong and aggressive, but her brokenness and her emotions are not buried far beneath her tough exterior. She's the kind of tough girl who doesn't let things like that get to her, or at least on the outside. At 28-years-old, she doesn’t resemblance the sweet and innocent child she had once been at all. She has an outspoken attitude, fierce charisma, and witty tongue. Most of the time, she doesn’t give a shit about everything. Although if you get to know her, she’ll compromise herself to look after the people she cares about. Generally speaking, the girl is ruled by her insecurities, despite a confident exterior. However, despite her manipulative and often ruthless behaviour, she is revealed to have a sensitive and loving nature as well. This side is revealed time and time again especially when she must come to the defence of someone she cares about. She is fully aware of her desirability and capacity for manipulative behaviour as well.

Additional IC Information. Freddie Silvermore’s partner.

Extras. Playlist

#accepted

0 notes