#and he gets blinded by his loyalty to the island and Jacob

[asexual-squidward]

Posts about LOST making me revisit my thoughts / headcanons about what happens with Ben and Hurley on the now-peaceful island.

I love the idea of the dynamic between Ben knowing everything about how the island works, but not much about popular culture or actually having a life outside of following orders and doing things for the sake of the island. And Hurley wanting Ben to loosen up and also deal with some of that trauma that he’s got going on, but also being very ‘???’ about how the island works.

And Hurley has an uphill battle because the remaining people on the island:

Don’t know who he is just emerging from the forest and proclaiming him to be the new protector

Ben is here and has a history of being the Cause Of Problems and now he’s claiming to be good now and this new guy is vouching for him but how can we trust him when he’s a known liar

So trying to get Ben used to living a more settled and less traumatic life is challenging because the guy has been essentially running on fumes for years and now his conscience and trauma is catching up with him and isolating himself doing paperwork isn’t going to help that.

Headcanons for Ben & Hurley’s Adventures On The Island™️

Ben is sometimes very exasperated at Hurley continuously questioning stuff that he understood (or learned not to question) when he was barely a teenager. But also Hurley keeps trying to get Ben to sit down and eat some goddamn popcorn because what do you mean you haven’t watched [movie]?!

Ben has to to unlearn lying automatically as a form of putting up walls. Hurley becomes very adept at telling when Ben is lying (he doesn’t know if that’s part of being the Protector or if his friendship with Ben has granted him that).

Hurley introduces Ben to ‘his culture’ (ie movies and video games. He uses his powers as Protector to ransack an out-of-business Blockbusters at least once) - while also reading books Ben recommends even though he’s not much of a book guy but he wants to meet him halfway.

Both of them help each other process their grief, trauma, and PTSD from [gestures to the entirety of LOST]. Including flashbacks, nightmares and panic attacks. Both of them are good listeners, it’s getting the other to talk about their problems that’s the struggle (Hurley rambles about other things to change the subject while Ben will just keep working until he drops)

Following from that, Hurley keeps getting imposter syndrome and thinking he’s not good enough to be the Protector. And he doesn’t understand why Ben trusts him (Ben also has this exact fear too but hides it far better)

Ben is still unused to hugs, which is an issue as Hurley is a big hugger. He has picked ben up in a bear hug and spun him around at least once.

Basically Hurley has adopted the human equivalent of a rescued attack dog as his emotional support animal.

[teamgamble]

Team gamble tainted au (which I remember is a thing but not a lot of people showed interest :[)

Oh no don't worry I'm still planning a tainted universe takeover, just waiting for the right time. Which is hard because I have a bad habit of doing things at the worst time possible hjsdafhgj.

Basically the Tainted AU is where the kids a) never met, b) never went to the academy, and c) never got the help they needed, to various effects. Buckle up because this has been rattling in my brain for a WHILE.

CW for mentions of abuse, religion, homelessness, juvenile detention, transphobia, deadnaming, neglect, cults, beauty pageants, and death.

Isaac would have never left her mother's home in Solaceon Town and the Arcist religion. He would have become completely obsessed with worshipping Arceus and Creation Duo and self-hating.

Maggie's parents never divorced, leaving her abusive father to continue harming her. To cope, she would get fights with other children frequently and act rebellious. Probably ended up in a toxic relationship or two.

Cain was never disowned by his parents, mostly to save face. However, he's considerably more scared up because of "accidents" set up in the hopes he'll pay for what they think he did to Abel.

Judas was refused to be taken to another region by the pilot, and so he was forced to remain in Orre. They would continue to steal Pokemon to make ends meet, and eventually he probably would've joined Team Snagem.

Evelyn chose not to go to therapy and start gardening. Due to faer horrible physically abusive uncle, even after escaping from him, she would still fear mean and have a worse mental state in general.

Samson was never taken into foster care, and he would become extremely violent and have a hair-trigger temper. Samson was floating in and out of juvenile detention, and probably never accepted his homosexuality.

Azazel never escaped from their parents. They would bide their time until they're eighteen, but they're stuck in a household that misgenders and deadnames them and would clip their metaphorical wings by forbidding them from flying on their Pokemon.

Laz would keep floating in and outside of the hospital. Even after Beth runs away to join Team Plasma, his mother would keep ignoring and neglecting him, letting him get injured and ill. At times, he feels like he's just a dead boy walking.

Instead of spurning Eden for getting into the Internet, their father would embrace it and keep them in a position to continue being manipulated. Their only identity is their loyalty to their father and to archiving knowledge, to the point they don't even believe they need a name.

Lily never got sponsored by Naranja-Uva Academy, leaving them in the Galarian foster care system. To cope with neglectful foster parents that refuse to deal with a blind child, she would hoard Pokemon to both her and the Pokemon's detriment.

Apollo not only ever attended the Academy, he didn't even join Team Skull. Because he failed the Island Challenge so hard, he would become a homeless child on the streets of Hau'oli City, too ashamed of himself to return home.

Beth, finally having enough of the beauty pageants and being judged for every flaw she had, would run away from her mother. Instead of being found by child protective services, she would be found by an attempted third resurgence of Team Plasma. Having no faith in humanity, she zealously follows Team Plasma's teachings of separation between Pokemon and humanity--and her secret wish for mankind's downfall.

Jacob didn't choose to fight against his father. He warned him of what Esau was planning with him. So when Esau tried to free Entei, their father effectively injured him with his Pokemon and left him for dead. He got a promotion to Rocket Admin for the capture of a Legendary, and Jacob got to be his secondhand man and his approval. However, he feels guilt over what happened. He never wanted Esau to die, just his dad's love and approval. And what's worse, Esau holds it against him.

Esau died after getting Fire Blasted by his father's Arcanine. Seeing he tried to do the right thing, Ho-oh attempted to revive him. But because of his rage, hatred, and malice, he came back wrong and returned as a black and red Hisuian Zoroark. Now he haunts Jacob, randomly appearing in a Pokeball on his body even with a full party. And it's a 50-50 if he'll go straight for Jacob, or get distracted by the opponent so Jacob can start running.

[carewyncromwell]

Welcome back to the POTC AU! Sorry for the day-long delay -- I was out and away from my computer almost all of yesterday, so I wasn’t able to finish this up until today! XD; But yeah, moving on to the notes...

The information about the Chest and its locking mechanisms, honestly, was all stuff I had to kind of surmise and research, since to my utter shock, there were just about no sources I could find online discussing the process of designing the original Dead Man’s Chest for the Pirates films. There is concept art for it, showing some possible decorative designs for the outside, and there are prop replicas showing the different angles and the inside of the lid -- but there is NO discussion made about the Chest’s construction/locking mechanism or what kind of 18th century or earlier chests may have inspired it. And that kind of blows me away as -- for all of the films’ flaws -- I have to applaud them on taking a lot of historical influences for things, especially in the costume and prop design. I apologize in advance if any of my research on 18th century locks and lock-picking is flawed or incomplete, but I did try my best. XD;

The song “Fifteen Men on a Dead Man’s Chest” was originally featured in the book Treasure Island by Robert Louis Stevenson, which was written in the late 1800′s, over a hundred years after the end of the Golden Age of Piracy, but it has since become entwined with the idea of pirates in pop culture, to the extent that it’s also referenced in Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man’s Chest, where it’s sung by Joshamee Gibbs and of course it inspired the core concept that the movie is named after. The original song was likely about Blackbeard or a similar pirate marooning a bunch of his crewmates, but I changed the meaning slightly to better fit with this narrative.

This version of Davy Jones, who is in truth an AU!Finn McGarry, belongs to @theguythatdraws Ican’twaittotrydrawinghimsoon, while Juliette “Jules” Farrier-Weasley belongs to @cursebreakerfarrier...and the previous part of this AU is here, while the entire tag is here! Hope you all enjoy! xoxo

x~x~x~x

Cutler Beckett did turn out to be just as unpleasant as Skye and Orion had suggested. Pretty quickly Carewyn could suss out that this so-called “businessman” had no loyalty to or caring for anyone or anything besides himself and his vested interests, namely his own wealth and status.

Unfortunately Percy was not as quick to catch onto that, presumably because of Beckett’s stated interest in supposedly bringing all pirates to justice and (Carewyn suspected) the fact that Beckett had spoken on Percy’s behalf before he was named a Captain himself. Part of Carewyn wanted to chastise Percy for letting himself be blinded by Beckett’s attempt to manipulate him, but she knew she couldn’t risk doing so. Not only would it make Percy and therefore Beckett suspicious that she was more sympathetic to their enemies (namely, Orion, Bill, and other pirates), but she also didn’t want to come down too hard on Percy. She knew that Percy, being the youngest Weasley brother in the Navy, had a lot to prove, especially considering that his “older brother” (namely, Carewyn) was a well-respected Commodore and war hero. Even his real older brothers had gotten their fair share of glory while they were enlisted in the Navy and now were seen as wanted criminals...so it was little wonder that Percy was determined to stand apart from them, not just as great in his own right, but ultimately better because he didn’t “fall from grace” like they did.

Cutler Beckett stayed at Governor Farrier’s mansion for the next week and visited the fort just about every day in that time. Whenever he was there, he pretty frequently sought Carewyn out, engaging her in conversation and asking her about her experiences fighting the Spanish and in escaping from the crew of the Revenge. Carewyn didn’t enjoy his rather pointed attention, but she hid her discomfort and mistrust as best as she was able. As much as she really found herself disliking the man, she knew that Beckett trying to get to know her better could give her the opportunity to get some information on him too. And ultimately, her polite, charming affect did help her learn a few things.

“From there, it was simply a matter of applying the proper pressure to the cylinder with one of the hat pins, while pushing the pins into the proper alignment with the other,” Carewyn explained. “Once the padlock on my chains was properly unlocked, I was then able to adjust enough to still look like I was locked up, wait for one of the enemy soldiers to enter my cell, and then overpower him so I could take his uniform, weapons, and keys and escape.”

“You truly are quite an escape artist, Commodore,” said Beckett, his eyebrows raising approvingly. “I’m impressed.”

Carewyn offered a casual smile. “Thank you -- but I only learned those things out of necessity, Lord Beckett.”

‘Jacob and I knew we’d both have to know how to pick locks, if we ever had to escape the Revenge’s brig. And even before that, it helped keep Grandfather happy, for us to be able to open chests of loot we didn’t have keys for.’

“It’s not a skill set I like to use if I can help it, considering I’d much prefer to be the one locking others up, not vice-versa.”

“Yes,” said Beckett, “I suppose for one with such a strong moral compass as yours, it would be only natural for you to wish to enforce justice, rather than fight against it.”

“Just as I’d say it’s only natural for a gentleman such as yourself to work toward the protection of our realm and interests -- am I right?”

“Of course,” said Beckett airily. “Someone has to make sure that people get what they pay for and that business remains profitable -- make sure the world turns properly, as it were.”

“A difficult proposition for any one man to do,” said Carewyn lowly, “considering this wild, untamed world we live in.”

Beckett smiled -- unlike Carewyn’s, however, there was no warmth in it at all.

“Fortunately, Commodore, the world we’ve been saddled with will soon be a thing of the past.”

He and Carewyn looked out over the wall of the fort. Down below, at the western dock, several rows of newly arrived red-garbed militia were disembarking from a Man o’ War and marching into Port Royal.

“As the map is filled in, our hold around this world becomes better defined,” said Beckett. “Its treasures are collected, its value assessed...and with that, a new sense of order begins to take hold.”

Carewyn looked down at the Man o’ War, her eyes narrowing slightly. She hadn’t seen such a strong military presence in Port Royal since the War against the Spanish -- and yet, here they were, being used not against foreign countries, but against individual people -- some of them even British citizens. As much as she knew that there were plenty of pirates that weren’t as goodhearted as Orion, it still seemed bizarre to her to unload all this firepower to destroy and kill, as opposed to capturing.

“And hopefully, peace,” said the Commodore softly.

Beckett glanced at Carewyn with a discerning eye. “Indeed. Peace and order do go hand-in-hand, wouldn’t you say?”

‘Not if the order is being instilled by a tyrant,’ she thought, as Charles Cromwell rippled over her mind.

“Definitely,” she lied instead.

Carewyn glanced at Beckett out the side of her eye, before turning her gaze out to the ocean.

“...I only profess as much knowledge to this matter as one can acquire, fighting against the likes of Orion Amari and being in the captivity of a pirate crew like the Revenge’s,” she said in the hardest, least sympathetic voice she could, “but it seems to me that pirates know their existence is unsustainable. Regardless of how renown they are and how much they can terrify merchant sailors, they’re still only men, facing off against Empires and kings. And as the world is plotted out -- as you yourself pointed out, Lord Beckett -- there will soon be less and less havens where such criminals can hide...”

She then looked at Beckett with a cold look in her eye.

“...From the way things stand...it seems to me that it would be in their best interest to stand down while they still can.”

'It would be, if there was any true justice for those who turned themselves in.’

Beckett’s lips spread into a slightly wider, cold smile as he inclined his head in agreement. “Well said. There could always be clemency, for those who embrace that wisdom -- it’s just good business.”

With this conversation, Carewyn had gotten a proper fix on Beckett, and it made her feel more disconcerted. It only got worse when later that week, both she and Percy were summoned into Carewyn’s own office at the fort for a meeting with Beckett. Some might have been offended at the idea of someone coming in and stealing their office just to demand a meeting with the office’s owner, but Carewyn honestly couldn’t make herself care too much about that. She couldn’t help but think that Beckett being so forceful could only be a bad thing, and when she arrived in her office, Percy right behind her dressed in his shiny new Captain’s uniform and powdered white wig, she immediately got the feeling she was right.

Beckett had already made himself very at home in Carewyn’s office. A crystal decanter filled with red wine and several glasses had been laid out and an entire map complete with tiny soldier pieces plotted in different positions covered nearly all of Carewyn’s desk. There was also an even larger map that had been applied to the back wall, which an employee was currently adding more details onto with his paintbrush. Standing in front of Carewyn’s desk across from Beckett was a middle-aged woman with hair as ginger red as Percy and Carewyn’s -- when the two officers first entered the room, her sharp-lidded dark blue eyes ran over both of them, lingering on Carewyn critically.

“Ah,” said Cutler Beckett, his lips spreading into a smile as his eyes narrowed upon Carewyn, “Commodore and Captain Weasley. Good of you to come.”

Carewyn and Percy both saluted.

“Lord Beckett,” Carewyn greeted formally.

She glanced at the older woman out the side of her eye, to find that she was likewise still looking her over with narrowed eyes. Carewyn couldn’t help but look at her suspiciously in return -- Percy had said Beckett had a female associate...and, if Charles Cromwell was to believed, then this woman had to be  --

“Allow me to introduce my associate, Patricia Rakepick,” said Beckett smoothly. “Madam Rakepick -- this is Captain Percy Weasley, and his elder brother, Commodore Carey Weasley.”

Carewyn’s blood ran cold. Being face-to-face with the woman who tried to kill Jacob was like a dose of cold, shuddering poison to her system. It took everything in her to not look at Rakepick with wrathful, vengeful hatred -- instead, she tried to hide the bile she felt by bowing respectfully, her head slightly bowed to obscure her expression.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Madam,” she said softly. Somehow her voice came out levelly, despite the rage pulsing through her blood.

Rakepick’s eyes narrowed a bit more on Carewyn’s face.

“The pleasure’s all mine, Commodore,” she said, but she didn’t sound quite so convincing -- she almost immediately turned back to Beckett, looking noticeably impatient, “Lord Beckett, you can’t think that these -- ”

Beckett held up a hand to silence her and turned to the employee working on the map. “One moment -- Mr. Elliot, you may stop there, for today. On your way, now.”

The employee bowed his head respectfully, before descending from his ladder and quickly leaving the office. The door shut with a SNAP behind him.

“Now then,” said Beckett, as he rose to his feet, “Commodore...Captain...I invited you here to request a favor of you. Madam Rakepick has recently uncovered a rather unique and valuable artifact.”

Carewyn’s eyebrows furrowed. Even Percy looked startled.

“What artifact is that, your Lordship?” he asked.

Beckett poured some red wine and offered a glass to Carewyn. She accepted it to be polite, but did not drink it. He then similarly offered a glass to Percy, who took a sip, even if he still looked a bit confused.

“How familiar are you both with the legend of Davy Jones?” asked Beckett.

Carewyn’s eyes narrowed slightly. “The captain of the Flying Dutchman?”

“Well, I’ve...heard the stories, of course,” said Percy, glancing at Carewyn uncertainly. “We both have -- the silly things the soldiers would pass around, at sea...ghost stories, you know...”

Rakepick scoffed, crossing her arms. “‘Ghost stories’ -- and these two are supposed to be sailors? Any sailor worth their salt knows that these things are hardly just stories -- ”

“Madam, please,” Beckett cut her off very coolly, as Percy frowned deeply, clearly offended. “I’m afraid the stories are indeed real. We now have the Chest to prove it.”

He reached under his desk and placed an intricately carved iron treasure chest on top of Carewyn’s desk.

It looked older than anything Carewyn had ever seen, and yet also oddly beautiful -- the inset lock framed by the moon’s phases and stylized flames, and iron tentacles clutched at the lid as if keeping it shut.

Carewyn immediately put down her full wine glass on a side table so as to walk up to the chest, trailing a hand along the heart-shaped lock.

“This is the Dead Man’s Chest?” she whispered.

Percy glanced at Carewyn. “The Dead Man’s Chest? Like in the song?”

Carewyn shook her head. “‘Fifteen Men on a Dead Man’s Chest’ was about this Chest, Perce. It’s said that Jones was so determined that no one know where he buried this treasure chest that he abandoned the entire crew who knew of its existence on that island with nothing but a bottle of rum to sustain them.”

“Leaving them to take the secret of its location to their graves,” said Beckett. He was idly playing with a silver piece of eight in his right hand as he spoke, his eyes resting on Carewyn. “Alas, it seems that the key needed to open the Chest may be in a location we cannot reach -- ”

He shot a cool look at Rakepick, who looked very affronted and opened her mouth to say something, but couldn’t before Beckett spoke again.

“ -- so I’d like to ask for your expertise on the matter, Commodore. Can this Chest be opened, without its key?”

Carewyn looked from Beckett to down at the Chest, unable to hide the trepidation completely from her face.

“...I can’t say for sure,” she said slowly. Her mind was working very fast as she regarded Beckett with a cautious look. “Were it an ordinary chest, I daresay it’d be easy enough to find a way to open it...but if there were any kind of curse placed on it or, more importantly, the treasure inside it...it might not be wise to try to break it open.”

“Curse?” repeated Percy disbelievingly. “Carey, you can’t be serious -- ”

“I saw the curse of Isle de Muerta with my own eyes, Percy,” she reminded him sharply. “If the Dead Man’s Chest has such a curse on it, it would not be worth the risk to open it, no matter how valuable its treasure is.”

Percy immediately quieted, looking a bit uncomfortable. Rakepick once again looked Carewyn over with a critical eye, even as she gave another light sniff.

“The treasure inside is not magical, so it would have no chance of hurting us, that is for certain,” said Rakepick dryly. “And from all the evidence I’ve gathered, I found nothing hinting that Finn McGarry -- pardon, Davy Jones -- was particularly adept at curses. All of the abilities he has now were a result of the role bestowed upon him by Calypso, as ferryman of the damned.”

Her face then turned much more serious.

“I will agree with the Commodore on one thing, though: Jones’s Chest will be too strong for the likes of a single man to break open. Look at the lid -- there are dead bolt locks around the entire Chest. The only way we’ll be able to unlock it is if I fetch the key from Jones myself -- ”

“And yet the Commodore thinks it’d be easy enough, to find a way to open the Chest without that key,” said Beckett rather coolly, raising his eyebrows as he once again shifted his gaze to Carewyn. “Commodore -- if you would?”

Carewyn looked from the Dead Man’s Chest to Beckett again, before glancing back at Percy. Percy gave her an encouraging nod, but it didn’t make Carewyn feel any better. She wished beyond reason that Charlie or Bill had been there instead -- they’d understand why she was so hesitant to help someone like Cutler Beckett.

But at the same time...she couldn’t refuse. She was put in the position that she had to open the Chest, if she wanted to stay on Beckett’s good side and keep the position that allowed her to protect Bill, Jules, Charlie, Jacob, and Orion. Even if she did refuse to open the Chest, then Beckett would no doubt find someone else who would...and would also likely not trust Carewyn enough to let her overhear any more information that could help her protect the others.

'If the treasure inside isn’t cursed, then there isn’t much reason to refuse,’ she thought grimly. ‘And lining Beckett’s pockets with a bit more gold would only help me help the others that bit more, by earning his trust.’

And so, swallowing back the ball of fear in her throat, Carewyn started looking over the Chest. She turned it around a few times, examining the hinges and the dead-bolts lining the base of the lid.

“What do you think, Carey?” asked Percy anxiously.

Carewyn’s eyes narrowed upon the Chest as she ran a hand over the top and pushed down on each of the iron tentacles one at a time.

“Its construction most resembles an armada chest -- some of the Spanish captains used them to hold their valuables during the War, and I’ve seen some pirates use them too, to hold their loot,” she murmured to him, though she could feel Rakepick hovering over her other shoulder as she worked. “On armada chests, the locking mechanism is actually built into the inside of the lid -- that explains the dead bolts around the edges. It also would prevent you from just unscrewing the hinges on the back of the chest and opening it from the back, like you can on a lot of wooden chests. But armada chests usually have a false keyhole on the front, with the real keyhole being hidden under a flap on the lid. This one does not. Judging by the construction of the keyhole, there looks to be a double cylinder design -- one that requires pressure on both sides of the keyhole, as well as the pins inside both cylinders to be in the proper position...”

She looked up at Beckett.

“...It’s easily the most complicated locking system I’ve ever seen on any chest,” she said grimly.

“Can you open it?” asked Beckett.

Carewyn steadied her jaw, her face blanching slightly as she inclined her head in a short nod.

“I think so.”

Beckett got Carewyn the tools she needed. Due to the two-sided nature of the keyhole, she enlisted Percy to help her -- he had far less experience with opening locks, but he followed Carewyn’s directions as closely as he could.

After almost an hour, there was a loud, booming CLICK as all twelve of the dead bolts around the lid popped out and the lid opened a crack, letting off a small gasp of dust.

“You did it!” said Rakepick.

Despite the seriousness of her expression, there was a slight echo of excitement and awe at the back of her voice. She was clearly impressed.

Carewyn stared at the slightly open Chest. Her heart was slamming up against her rib cage anxiously.

Nothing had happened, when she’d opened it -- so had the Chest not been cursed, after all? That was a relief. And Rakepick had said the treasure inside wasn’t cursed, so...

Tentatively Carewyn reached out a hand and slowly eased the lid open.

When she saw what was inside, though, she couldn’t hold back a sharp intake of breath.

The Dead Man’s Chest was devoid of any of the gold or jewels she’d envisioned. Instead, all it held was a slimy, reddish, pulsing, thumping thing about the side of a coconut.

It was a human heart, still beating lowly despite no blood rushing through it.

Percy squeezed Carewyn’s shoulder as he looked down at it too, visibly taken aback.

“Is...that...?”

“The heart of Davy Jones,” finished Rakepick darkly, “first cut out when he was named captain of the Flying Dutchman -- for the Dutchman must always have a captain who’s left his heart behind in the world of the living. Only then can he truly be a subjective judge of the dead and dying at sea...and thus the souls of the damned will not haunt the seas and terrorize all those who sail it.”

Carewyn’s eyes were very wide. ‘Then...the treasure Jones locked away was his own heart?’

Rakepick’s dark blue eyes flickered down to the heart rather pitilessly.

“Not that Jones hasn’t done a fine job of terrorizing those who sail those seas all on his own, over the years,” she added very dryly.

“All the more reason for us to bring Jones into our enterprise.”

Beckett rose from his desk again. Taking a sip from his own glass of red wine, he came around to purposefully take a step between Percy and Carewyn and look down at the heart himself. His lips curled up in a dark smile as he reached out a hand and picked up the heart to get a better look at it.

“Whoever controls the heart of Davy Jones...controls the sea,” said Beckett.

He gave it a rather tight squeeze. Carewyn couldn’t stop herself from flinching.

‘If that thing is still beating,’ she couldn’t help but think, ‘then does that mean that it’s the only thing keeping Davy Jones alive? If so...’

She felt like her own chest was being squeezed.

‘...Beckett’s holding Davy Jones’s life in the palm of his hand.’

For all of the terrifying stories Carewyn had heard about Davy Jones over the years, both on the Revenge and in the Navy, she found herself feeling nothing but righteous anger and pain at this thought. What a disgusting, terrible thing to do to anyone -- no matter how awful a person they were...

There was a loud splash outside the window of Carewyn’s office.

Carewyn, Percy, Rakepick, and Beckett all looked up, to see a giant, terrifying ship erupting out of the waves just outside the fort. It was a sickly gray with torn sails and a bow cut into a set of massive, jagged jaws like a crocodile.

“The Flying Dutchman,” breathed Carewyn, hardly daring to believe it.

Beckett’s smile broadened, actually showing some teeth. “A rather fine addition to the fleet -- especially considering that it can go just about anywhere and travel in record time...”

Rakepick turned to Beckett sharply.

“If that’s the case, the first thing we should do is have him hunt down Black Jack Roberts. I know he made a deal with Jones -- he’ll have a way to track him down and kill him once and for all -- ”

Carewyn’s heart spasmed in horror, but fortunately no one else in the room noticed the fear flashing through her face.

“Didn’t you say you already destroyed the Tower Raven?” said Beckett coolly. “One can hardly see a pirate with no ship as a real threat.”

“Don’t underestimate Black Jack Roberts,” said Rakepick lowly. “By all accounts, he should’ve died, and he would have, if he hadn’t somehow managed to recruit a merman to his crew -- ”

Percy sputtered in disbelief. “‘Merman’ -- you mean, like mermaids? Those are real too?”

“Afraid so,” said Carewyn.

Her mind and heart were both racing, but she tried desperately to keep her cool. She couldn’t let them go after Jacob...or Duncan, either, if he was the merman who’d helped him like she suspected. Now that she knew the true power Beckett now had, thanks to her opening that Chest for him, she couldn’t stand by and let him use it to hurt her brother --

“...I can’t say I know much about Black Jack Roberts, aside from him being captain of the Tower Raven...” she said slowly, “...but it seems to me that attacking one man would be a poor way to use the weapon we’ve acquired.”

All three of the others looked at her. Beckett raised his eyebrows in keen interest.

“And what would you say would be a better way to use it, Commodore?” he asked, sounding intrigued.

Carewyn’s eyes drifted away from the others as she walked up to the window of her office and looked out, her arms crossed behind her back as she went. She tried to keep her face as stoic as possible, even with how scared she truly felt.

‘In order to pass up the chance to hunt down and kill one of the most wanted pirates in the world,’ she thought, ‘I have to offer an even more enticing option...’

The idea forming in her mind made her feel ill.

‘It’s been over two weeks since I saw Jules, Bill, and Charlie,’ she thought very quickly. ‘That’s more than enough time to have made the repairs to the Revolution and get some new crew members, especially if Orion and the crew of the Artemis is helping them. And...whether they’re just leaving or have already left...this way, they’ll know the true extent of the danger. All pirates will know what the Navy’s new weapon is...and can prepare for it.’

She closed her eyes solemnly.

“...I say we send a message to all pirates -- one that makes them tremble in their boots, the way they’ve made merchant sailors tremble at the sight of their black flags...by attacking them where they’ve always felt most safe. By arresting them somewhere they all gather together, in one place.”

She opened her eyes again, her gaze blazing as she turned back to Beckett.

“I say...we sack Tortuga.”

[florbelles]

background and personality for miss lyra ❤❤❤❤❤

thank you so much, lovely! sorry this took an eternity and a half xx

PERSONALITY

what’s their alignment?

d&d alignments are not her friend!

having said that, she leans towards neutral or chaotic ( very rarely lawful ); neutral in that she does not attempt to disrupt order for the sake of it and does not prioritize personal freedoms over the general ( what she believes to be ) good, chaotic in that she’s willing to do whatever it takes to meet her goals regardless of legality or acceptability and thinks little of the laws and values of society; she considers herself above the law insofar as she does not respect the law or believes it to be fundamentally flawed, but does not opposite the concept of order on principle ( while, on the contrary, she is an enforcer of order and principles within the context of the project; no one is above the judgement of god, herself included ). her loyalty and unconditional love where she gives it earns her high points in the morality category in traditional d&d quizzes, as does her commitment to her cause ( whether that’s with the project or in her life before, conning or murdering corrupt or vile members of society in retaliation ). practically speaking, though, her methods align her with the evil sector, particularly in regards to the lengths she’s willing to go to; she also gets personal enjoyment out of inflicting suffering on those she deems unworthy, derives pleasure from the atrocities she commits. she is driven by passion more than anything else, and is consumed by rage and loathing, meaning she is never truly neutral; because she gets personal satisfaction from her work as the judge, it can’t be said that she’s acting selflessly in the pure interest of upholding the values of the project, so the merit of her devotion in and of itself isn’t without ambiguity. she believes herself to be a monster, but believes her cause is righteous – it takes evil to know it, judge it, and exterminate it – but she has never once in her life done something #fortheevils or in the interest of promoting ( what she believes to be ) evil for the sake of it; for that reason she’s difficult to categorize based on the traditional understanding of the alignments.

tl; dr: given that she truly is driven by rage & passion and very much wants the world to burn ( at least at a certain critical point in her arc ), and given the depravity she’ll resort to in order to reach her end goals, she’s probably best aligned as chaotic to neutral evil ( though she believes herself to be doing right ).

which one of the 16 personality types do they fit into?

enfp-a; the campaigner.

what are their hobbies and interests? do they have any particular “favorites” (food, books, and so on)?

setting sinners free, anna karenina, fleetwood mac, driving with the windows down, sinner roasts bonfires in the summer & autumn, watching the sun rise.

favorites are answered here ( x ),  activities and interests here ( x )

what are they bad at?

bar games & team sports (anything she can’t cheat at, really).

what kind of things do they dislike/hate?

apathy, willful ignorance, obstinate self-deceit, the song oh john.

do they have any vices/addictions/mental illnesses?

she turns to risky behaviors, inflicting pain on herself ( via the provocation of others/combat ) or others ( whom she feels are deserving ). she has flirted with most forms of substance abuse in the past, but never crossed the line into full chemical dependency with anything but tobacco ( more because of using nothing specific habitually than out of moderation ).

what are their goals and motivations?

to do right even if she was born wrong ( she might be a monster, but she’s a monster for a cause, and surely that means something ); to keep what she has ( her family, john ); to fulfill her purpose as the judge of eden’s gate; to cast out the unworthy; to get her family safely to new eden. after the collapse, she simply wants to lead and protect the only family she has left — the faithful — until the shepherd joseph promised arrives and releases her from her duty.

what are their manners like? any habits?

full rundown on her mannerisms here. extremely extroverted, open body language, usually smoking; draws herself up to her full height even when seated. often holding a cigarette, talks with her hands. very animated, but graceful and deliberate. uses eye contact and physical touch to either intimidate or establish intimacy; disregards personal space for the same reason.

what are they most afraid of?

answered here.

becoming her mother. losing john. losing herself to her wrath, to an extent, but she would rather burn herself alive than become isabela. ( that was always more something that she would go to any lengths to avoid than a fate she truly feared, at least before john’s death and the collapse; that was the first time she was actually tempted to numb herself and embrace oblivion, but she never did ).

BACKGROUND

where were they born? what was their childhood like?

lyra was born in the hamptons, but she spent most of her childhood (that she can remember) on nantucket island; early childhood she spent out ruling it herself, on beaches, frolicking with the summer people, still trying to get her parents’ attention, then, still wanting what she saw other families have; not perfect, perhaps, but something.

what’s their family like?

BIRTH FAMILY

lyra maintains, for the most part, that the problem was never with her parents, but with her; she told joseph at one point that the difference between the rest of them is that they might not have been born monsters, but she was; nothing made her that way. the reality, of course, is different; because of the fact that lyra’s abuse was tied primarily to neglect as a young girl and later the emotional abuse, exploitation and manipulation by her father, she does not feel entitled to the trauma she carries from it matched against some of the horrors she’s witnessed. ( of her father’s business associates and the men she would target later in life, lawrence was never the worst of them, and for that, she considers herself fortunate ). she’s very aware of the fact that she had the best education money could buy ( provided it also got her as far away from them as possible ), that she was not beaten or, truthfully, reprimanded; her father never touched her, but that was a universally true statement — the most physical contact or affection he displayed towards his daughter was a hand on her shoulder at galas, steering her towards an associate she was meant to beguile, or lifting her hair to fasten his latest bribe around her neck.

she never, in her entire life, felt more like a whore, not even when she was fucking men she met along the road to rob them.

her mother, isabela, was not inherently malicious; she was extremely depressed and jaded and, as a result, heavily self-medicated; she did not turn a blind eye to her husband’s affairs, or to the way he slowly made lyra her replacement, but she smothered it with drugs. she did not hate lyra, and never expressed open animosity towards her and that, to lyra, was the worst of it; she would attempt to provoke her often, would scream, fight, threaten, sob, but isabela was unmovable entirely. she was dead to the world.

the opposite of love, to lyra, was never hatred, it was indifference, and isabela was completely indifferent to her.

it’s the only thing lyra could never forgive.

she ran away often throughout her childhood, and as her sixteenth birthday neared, she finally left for good; she ensured she wasn’t found. they disinherited her within the year upon receiving notice from the family of one of her highschool girlfriends that she was visiting them ( an unintentional betrayal, but one that prevented her from making the mistake of contacting anyone from her old life again ). they sent her an official letter forbidding her from contacting them or returning home, swearing her off and stating that they did not recognize her as their daughter ( though, since she was a minor at the time, the only legal aspect was her removal from their will ).

lawrence would tell his colleagues and friends years later that he did what was necessary because he was afraid of her, that he truly believed she had the capacity to kill him for the inheritance. it was a ludicrous claim; for all of his insistence that she was like him, scheming, manipulative, opportunistic, incapable of feeling, all she ever wanted was to be loved and accepted by her family. she did not want to be a monster, she was simply told she was one all her life. she began to believe it, and, ultimately, she chose to become it.

still, she would have forgiven lawrence everything, in the end, if he’d ever cared to ask. she loved her parents, and later she hated them, but she could never be indifferent. she could never be like them. that, perhaps, was why they never loved her.

THE SEEDS

she loves her chosen family desperately. faith is her best friend and the sister she never had, and though their form of enmeshment makes them occasionally toxic, they truly do love each other; jacob is her mentor and trainer in her role as the judge, they’re quite close; joseph she has perhaps the most tumultuous relationship with because of his concerns about her intemperance and the way she and john indulge each other, but she respects him and understands him in a way john does not — she does not personally seek his approval or fear his rejection, so she views him more objectively. later, of course, they’re all that’s left, and while john will always be the person closest to her heart and the most important part of her life, joseph is the second.

she does make overtures to befriend ethan, but she is only an amplifier of his feelings of isolation and resentment towards his father; no matter what he does, the loyalty of both the flock and his father will always lie with lyra, and that is difficult for him to accept. despite joseph leaving new eden in his hands, ethan is under no illusions about the fact that lyra stayed behind to watch him, and her presence undermines him at every turn, regardless of her intent — she is the de facto leader, for reasons he will never fully understand, and he resents her for it.

john is her whole heart. he’s her soulmate. having him, however briefly, makes everything worth it to her in the end; she can’t ever regret it, no matter what it cost her; she tells poppy that “god gave him to me, and for that, i forgive [god] all the rest.”

what factions or organizations are they a part of? What ranks and titles do they hold?

prior to hope county, none; lyra is her own contractor and the center of her own networks.

with the project, lyra serves as the judge; she serves as a sorter, an intel gatherer, a judge of the worthy and unworthy, oversees the realm of the damned; she shows those who are submitted to her judgement their true selves and allows their choices and actions to speak to their character and determine the fate. after all, who is she to judge?

post-collapse, she leads new eden in practice, though not in title, in joseph’s absence.

how do they fit into their “story”?

lyra is the judge of eden’s gate and a seed by marriage. she’s a career serial serial killer and conartist come to hope county seeking refuge after a murder gone wrong; she is a damned woman, and the project is her last resort. she’s the sealbreaker, the lamb, and the wrath of god. in terms of far cry 5 canon, she replaces the deputy as the prophesized hell that followed, though she never has any allegiance but to the project; hers is a cautionary tale in that, in their attempts to avoid the fate joseph foresaw for them, the seeds ultimately bring ruin upon themselves. there’s no junior deputy in her canon; they called in sick the morning of the arrest.

where do they currently live? what’s their place like?

before hope county, lyra was perpetually on the move seeking targets, as her lifestyle demanded; after joining the project, she lives at the seed ranch with her husband.

post-collapse she lives in new eden until the arrival of the highwaymen brings joseph back to oversee it. she retakes prosperity and lives in what’s left of her old home until her death.

how do they eventually die?

she and john get hopped up on rads!bliss on their 70th wedding anniversary and put each other into mutual cardiac arrest. yeah, they fucked to death, what about it. this is the only way either of them ever die. shaggy finds them in a final insult to him.

lyra dies at forty-three — seventeen years later than she’d have liked — after taking a knife between the ribs via her nephew. while that’s the wound that technically does her in, the reality is that it was probably survivable; lyra had been dying for a long time, physically and emotionally broken by the holy war, though she put on a convincing front for the sake of joseph and the flock. she kept herself going until she had done her duty by new eden and fulfilled her purpose, bringing the shepherdess that was promised to the flock; she tells poppy that she’s her sacrifice, and she’s finally free to go back to the grave where she belongs. she does, happily; letting go is a relief.

[darlinrogue]

Matt Hardy

For me because I can’t write an actual analysis 

I-Con (ˈīˌkän) noun

1. One who is the object of great attention and devotion; an idol

2. A person or thing regarded as a representative symbol of something

3. An entity that will not die

4. A being or force that is stronger than death

5. MATT HARDY

The Hammerstein Ballroom in New York City was a scene set in Adam Page’s dreams. The stage had hosted acts like Brittney Spears, Avenged Sevenfold, David Bowie, Paramore, All Time Low, Guns N’ Roses, Korn, Iron Maiden, and two farm boys from the rural south who somehow sneaked in before the curtain fell. The wrestling fans in t-shirts, jeans, and bawdy signs, didn’t match the elegant balconies they crowded. The ring was a jagged piece of metallic architecture placed on an old warn, wood floor. Adam Page, twenty-two years old, settled in the far corner with his heart in his throat and his childhood idol adjacent to him. The microphone lifted to Matt Hardy’s lips like he intended to speak. At that moment as Matt Hardy looked over the crowd, it was like a fantasy. Something he spun-up while he bounced on the trampoline with his sister and begged her to let him try the Twist of Fate one more time.

In the 1970 census, a few years before his birth, Matt Hardy’s hometown of Cameron, North Carolina had a whopping population of 204 individuals. In 1990, when Matt and his brother Jeff were mimicking the moves they learned off TV on the trampoline, the population was an impressive 215. Cameron was a small town in the heart of tobacco country, Virginia and Carolina being one of the few places in the United States to grow the desired plant. Running down to the coast, once out of the foothills of the Appalachians and Grandfather Mountain, North Carolina was flat and balmy. Unlike the dense red clay of the Piedmont region, the soil was silty and perfect for farming. Matt probably never saw more than a few inches of snow a Winter. A few hours to the East and he’d stand at the edge of the Atlantic. Along the cat’s claw thin barrier Islands, he’d watch the waves wash over white sand. Hear the whispers of shipwrecks the vicious coast of North Carolina claimed.

A stupid kid like Adam Page, eyeballs glued to the TV screen as WWF played Monday Night Raw or later Smackdown, heard these stories of the Hardy Boyz and looked at his own life. Aaron's Creek, Virginia, made Cameron look like a metropolis. Adam’s hometown was so small it didn’t even deserve a Wikipedia page. His family had deep roots in Virginia because it was a state for lovers. His father also raised tobacco and Adam grew-up amongst the viridian fields, laid out for acres around the house he grew up in. There wasn’t a lot of money for Christmas most years and Adam knew more about the intricacies of cattle farming than he sometimes cared to admit to his classmates. Yet, while his best friends extolled the Hardys for their daredevil stunts, ladders, and chairs. Adam idolized them because they were a proof of concept. That it was possible for a hard-working, farm working, Virgin-lina boy, to grow-up and be hot shit.

In 2013, Adam was starting to warm-up, with a brand new Ring of Honor contract and some neon green trunks. At Final Battle, the crown jewel event of the promotion he just signed-to, Adam had no choice but to laugh as Matt Hardy was almost booed out of the arena the moment he got a mic in his hand. It made Adam feel like a hero. Of the two, the audience preferred Adam Page to Matt Hardy, just incredible. Of course, Matt Hardy, the iconic, was a manipulative and arrogant son of a bitch, who claimed more than was his to take. Never meet your heroes, they say, and when Adam met his, he was kind of a dick. Yet, when Matt Hardy clasped his hand and gave him a firm handshake, that felt like a small victory. An inner ten-year-old in Adam promised to never wash it again.

It was also a statement. A statement that even if Matt Hardy thought he was better than this everybody, he still had to treat Adam with some measure of respect. Never once did Adam allow the stars in his eyes to blind him. There was no point in fighting a legend if it was only half the legend— Adam was going to get all of Matt Hardy, or nothing. So, he slapped Matt Hardy across the cheek and dragged out the old champion.

A year later, when Adam worked under Hardy’s personal brand, OMEGA, Matt would talk up the youthful Adam Page. Call him the future of wrestling, with his impressive moonsaults, clever counters, fearless attitude, and ‘never say die’ mentality. It was a good showing that night. Adam showed a lot of heart. Surely, he impressed someone upstairs— but he didn’t win. And Adam didn’t know what the point of having ‘heart’ was if he couldn’t win with it. Having ‘heart’ is the wrestling equivalent of a participation trophy.

In the Hammerstein Ballroom though, in 2013, a Twist of Fate would plant Adam on his head and the match would end at seven minutes and twenty seconds. That same night, just a couple of months after their New Japan debut, the Young Bucks defeated ACH and TaDarius Thomas. In due course, the Jacksons would join the Bullet Club with one Kenny Omega. Next month, Jimmy Jacobs, Roderick Strong, and BJ Whitmer formed the Decade, then called Adam out in the same breath, all for daring to dream bigger than the East Coast that Ring of Honor frequented. That night, in New York City, in the heart of Manhattan, the Hammerstein ballroom became a pivoting point for Adam’s life. Matt Hardy was Adam’s first breakpoint.

Through the course of 2014, Adam followed Matt’s invitation into OMEGA and crisscrossed central Carolina in search of his next break. Alongside his then tag-partner, Corey Hollis, Adam wrestled one more match in the ring with Matt Hardy. With the addition of his equally strange brother: Jeff Hardy. An eight-man tag where for a  bizarre moment Adam was in the corner with the Hardy Boyz. Twenty years on from WWF ladder matches and the two men, closer to forty than thirty, could still go. Go with the speed and intensity of their youth. With the reckless abandon that defined their careers. These were the type of guys who looked at a wrestling ring and asked, “ you know what needs ?” Then answered: “More hardware.” Watching Matt Hardy, Adam learned when to slow, when to hasten, when to wait, when to press the advantage. Little tricks of the trade. He absorbed all of it like a sponge and held it tight to his chest. Treasure and gold to spend a little farther down the road.

Adam learned that Matt Hardy ran equal parts hot and cold. He was a little off, in a way that wasn’t healthy, but Adam blamed that on a history of concussions and injuries. Arrogant but in a way that was condescending and so he was always willing to groom a newbie to greatness. In fact, Matt Hardy took great pride in taking some young kid and making them a ‘star.’ In a way, every OMEGA recruit was some pet project of Matt or Jeff Hardy. No better way to pat yourself on the back than to make someone. It was never about the protege, though, it was about Matt Hardy. It was about his ego trip, to be able to say—

‘Look what I did for Adam Page.’

And he could cash in his ‘good person’ chip for the week.

Oh, and how Adam knows how it goes. Like, a favorite catchy tune.

BJ Whitmer ruffled his hair and a stupid twenty-four-year-old, hoping for approval, construed it as affectionate. Unaware that the gesture was more like the way a man polishes the rearview window of his new SUV. Yeah, he likes the vehicle, it’s expensive, he’s invested a lot, and he’d get really pissed if someone keyed the paint, but it was nothing but an object. A thing that he owns. A possession to be used and thrown away when it was no longer interesting. Adam was a good boy though and he’d do anything to be wanted, needed, useful. Even pick-up a chair and go against his better nature. The waves of frustration, internal conflict his own actions created, broke him until all that was left was a defensive, angry man biting at any hand that came too close. So, Adam no longer recognized who he was in the mirror. BJ Whitmer didn’t want to see ROH Champion Adam Page, he just wanted someone to carry his bags.

Falling in line with Cody was like falling into an old groove, well worn and well-trodden. When Cody handed that chair to Adam, he knew exactly what to do with it. How to hold Kenny fast and to twist his head so he’d see his incoming braining. Years ago Adam had been wounded and he had never healed. The blood festered and boiled, a slit through his throat hemorrhaging down his bruised chest. Cody stuck his finger in Adam’s festering resentment and anxiety, dug out his trachea. Weaponized Adam’s unspoken fear that Kenny Omega thought he was better than Adam Page and he was using Adam like BJ did two years ago. When Kenny ripped the US title from Adam’s hands and handed it back to Jay White —who he thought they all hated anyway— it was like a slap in the face. That was his moment, Cody declared, he ruined, he stole it. It took a couple of drop kicks from Kota Ibushi and a V-trigger he couldn’t technically remember, for Adam to realize he’d been played. Cody brought Adam no closer to his moment and Adam had ruined his closest friendships. All for a stupid belt.

Kenny never remarked on all of it, probably because he thought Adam too pitiful to deserve admonishment. Or, that his loyalty could be bartered for with games of Mario Tennis. So long as Adam stayed in line and kept his mouth shut, they were fine. Or, maybe Kenny was more forgiving than Adam gave him credit for. That was too much logic for his brain to handle these days, though.

His family once owned a gentle Paso Fino gelding. A sweet boy with soft brown flanks and soulful black eyes. While riding with his father Adam asked if he could cross a field with the horse, if the Paso Fino would canter. Could he persuade this gentle creature to do such a thing? His father chuckled and waxed, “of course you can, he aims to please.” And sure enough, Adam and the Paso Fino flew across the field, in the long smooth gait of the breed. It was beautiful and for a second it was like they shared a mind, but he wished his father never said those words to him. Because every so often, “he aims to please,” applies better to Adam than the horse.

FTR put a bit in Adam’s mouth and led him by the bridle for three months. Somehow their inevitable betrayal came as a shock. It had just been that drinking and joking with Kenny was nice, but the tension in the EVP room was like poison. While the Bucks sat easy, Adam was dying, and FTR, in their caring familiarity was like a breath of fresh air. He wished he could’ve been there for Kenny but he had been there for Kenny and didn’t he deserve a chance to unwind? Unwork the knife from his gut and enjoy an evening with old friends? Stupid, stupid, stupid, so stupid, so blind, so eager to please, that he’d trade real friends for fake friends. FTR played Adam’s fragile ego like a fiddle and left him in the aftermath of his own decisions. Alone and with just Kenny, who no longer wanted anything to do with him.

And after all those lessons, it was painful to realize that Adam Page was just another trinket for the Young Bucks to marvel over. A living, breathing camera stand to film BTE bits and then do the complex editing, giving a polish to the final product. That was the deal, he understood and agreed to it walking into the Bullet Club. He was to be the problem solver. The replacement big guy now that Gallows was gone. Adam beats up the enemies of the Bullet Club and he stays out of the title shot picture, good deal.  A jobber they can hand a trio belt to and smirk over because the Bucks are such good guys. Adam really thought they were his friends and Adam wished he could say he used the Bucks like he used BJ but he never loved BJ like he loved Matt and Nick. It was the first time he was ever happy being a prop but it still hurt, especially the outrage in their eyes when he started thinking for himself.

How dare he become a tag-team champion when that’s what they wanted?

That was the deal though with Matt and Nick, that he stayed out of the way. Adam violated the terms and their friendship crumbled around the broken covenant.

Kenny though, out of all of these betrayals and losses which had left Adam numb to the idea that he was better off alone—

Kenny fucking hurt.

Some of the ideas lacked foundation. Some floated in the bottoms of bottles of whiskey. Some were inklings from years of standing behind a man he was never going to beat. Most of them made Adam feel like an asshole. The ideas went along the tune of:

That Adam was a shitty replacement for Kota Ibushi, the golden lover trapped on the other side of the pacific. When he was in Japan and had unwedged his head from his ass, Adam liked Kota. Kota was brilliant, a true star, and he understood, totally, why Kenny loved him. There was nothing personal or even resentful in this uninspired realization. It wasn’t jealousy. It was the truth and it was a truth Adam had to bear when Kenny let him collapse in the middle of the ring at All Out. Kota Ibushi could win a G1. Become the intercontinental and IWGP heavyweight champion all in one night. Adam couldn’t even beat Chris Jericho. Kota Ibushi was the God of wrestling and Adam Page was the dirty sinner kicked down to the dust where he belonged.

That Adam was a useful tool for Kenny. Just good enough in the ring to carry a tag-team when Kenny was at the far end of a losing streak. A good bolt of confidence, standing on the shoulders of a younger guy. Before he launched off and took the world title belt he so rightfully deserved. The gleam in Don Callis’ eye when Adam shook his hand told him that this was all part of the plan. Adam was written into the script and hit every line he was supposed to. Adam wondered if he was chosen because he was volatile and insecure, and Callis knew that would just push Kenny away. Away and towards Don Callis, and his machinations. Don used Kenny and Kenny used Adam— maybe, it was just Don all along.

That Adam was a pretty thing Kenny could flirt with. Soft, yielding, supportive, loyal, and eager to put his energy towards someone willing to take it. Like a fucking dog, or something. Hope told him there was something to the way Kenny murmured ‘cowboy’ to him in their private moments. That Kenny’s interest went beyond physical and a desire to be topped by a handsome guy like Page. The bitter reality, the pessimist and realist in him, told him it was hollow, fake, that he was being played again. Damnit, though, if he wouldn’t take those crumbs. Because he couldn’t say ‘no’ to Kenny when he smiled. Because he loves Kenny and he can't stop loving Kenny.  

He truly was eager to please.

“Well, it’s okay. You can’t be number one forever anyway, right? Sometimes you gotta take a back seat, and I don’t mind taking a back seat, if it’s to you, buddy.” And Kenny had smiled and nudged his elbow, and Adam hadn’t thought about it as he fiddled with his silly little action figure. When Adam thought back on that interview and thought back on all his twisted thoughts about Kenny, he had almost broken down crying. Because he didn’t know what was true. Kenny was high-up there in his mind and Adam wasn’t sure he could ever shoot him down.

The second Adam Page snatched the title from Jay White’s hands he had known the truth. The light had shone in his eyes and he had flinched. He realized the cost of fame and fortune. The crossroads he stood at, paralyzed in fear and trembling to make a choice. Maybe, he was grateful when Jay defeated him and he could return to the darkness. However, the taste, the warmth of the light, the way his chest swelled and his heart rose, pure, innocent, like a child seeing his first snow, was addicting. Adam knew that he had to step out of the shadows. Out from behind Kenny, Cody, and the Bucks, or he would perish there in the dark. They were never going to turn around and dredge him out of the abyss.

Adam had never realized there was a choice, though: his friends or his soul. And he wonders how many times those friends had made it. How many times the Bucks chose some merch sales over him. How many times Kenny chose a title over him. He knows Cody had chosen his ego over him. Was there a balance? Someplace where you can stand in the light and have those you love with you? For flashes of moments, he sees it, in the Golden Elite, or when the Bucks flanked Kenny in the ring. The balance was called love and it could overcome all trials, or so he’s told. It could mediate the choice between yourself and others.

Yet, Adam knows he’s chosen wrong once or twice, already. So, he’s not sure that kinda love is for him.

John Silvers was on one knee, hand extended, with a goofy grin that Adam had come to appreciate. For the first time in a year, he had felt light and free. It had been nice to exist in a bubble of appreciation and warmth. Yet, there was no room to wiggle, and like a caged, fearful animal, Adam lashed-out. The wording got to him, on the following night when he was thinking about it. He said: ‘I can’t,’ and not ‘I won’t.’ Like, he was physically incapable of saying ‘yes,’ and yet the Dark Order seemed to think ‘no’ was an impossibility. How did they get so screwed-up?

Friendships come with obligations and Adam was aware he’d been shirking his. Not because he felt entitled but because he wasn’t sure he could bear the weight. That he wouldn’t take a stumbling step and collapse on his fractured bones. And that would just be a different kind of a disappointment for the Dark Order than just hearing ‘no’ right out the gate. It’d be his failure with the Bucks and Kenny all over again. Anna was right, Adam had to move on, so they could move on, and maybe it left him bitter that he couldn’t utter an apology, but that’s how things shake-out these days.

The Bucks didn’t want his apology either.

And now, that brought him back to Matt.

Matt Hardy reappeared like a literal ghost in the Summer and Adam still wasn’t sure if the whole Damascus thing was a bit or not. Just that while he sat in a warm bath, water up to his knees and bubbles floating around his elbows, he looked up Benjamin Franklin on his phone. “Franklin was a leading writer, printer, political philosopher, politician, Freemason, postmaster, scientist, inventor, humorist, civic activist, statesman, and diplomat.” Given that Adam Page’s passion since childhood was professional wrestling and throwing his delicate body through tables, none of that resonated with him. And he wasn’t sure if Matt meant he really was the reincarnation of a founding father, or if it was just an apt comparison, but something about the phrase:

‘Join or Die.’

Felt like the story of his life.

Adam’s father kept records of all the songs he listened to when he was growing up. On a rare lazy Sunday, he’d put on the vinyl and let it spin so the music filled the house. Marty Robbins sang of quick finger rangers with big irons on their hips. Waylon Jennings and Lee Greenwood, dreamed of something lost, something mournful, as they rode alone. There was a cost to independence, and beneath the wide brim hat were tired, dark eyes, haunted by those the cowboy left behind. He rode into town looking for a lost love or a home, or just some water for his horse. He’d leave as soon as the plot finished and the town was saved but while the townsfolk rejoiced their salvation, the hero slipped from the jubilee. He was looking for a place he belonged and this was not it, and Adam wondered if he kept looking because there was no place he belonged.

After Dynamite, he took shots in his living room with his dogs laid over his legs and he thought about his wording. ‘I can’t,’ he told John, because, reasons he couldn’t justify in front of an audience of five thousand. So, it seemed fitting that this odd friendship he developed, with another group looking to use him and throw away, began with Matt Hardy. Began when he eliminated the iconic legend from the ring and ended with Matt Hardy, in the ring, begging Adam not to change in the hallway.

Adam didn’t believe a single word Matt said.

He didn’t believe he was a good person who deserved to be happy. He didn’t believe that the Dark Order was awkward — it was, and that’s why he wept with whiskey last week. He didn’t believe that there were no strings attached. He didn’t believe that Matt’s intentions were good or genuine, or even kind. Hell, he never believed John Silver when he called Adam handsome and amazing because that kinda flattery was useless.

He did believe that Matt was going to use him. He did believe that when Matt Hardy brought down the other shoe it was going to hurt like hell. He did believe that by this point, Adam was so calloused, scarred, and numb, that the pain wouldn’t even register. He did believe that he was so desperate, alone, and miserable, that he’ll take any bone thrown at him. He did believe that whatever plan Matt Hardy cooked-up for him was going to end up with him back in the dirt. He did believe that he no longer cared enough about himself to care. He did believe that all he wanted was a place to hang his hat and to lace his boots.

He did believe Tony Schiavone when he said, “you should take him up on that.”

Because, shit, who wants to change by catering?

[chameleon-gir1]

All About My WIP ((currently untitled))

Plot Summary:

After completing odd jobs for various residents of the capital metropolis Elaiylen, a group of adventurers discover human girls are going missing every year in several major cities. Working with Detective Jacob Pierce in the northern city Itaset, where it all began, the party soon realize the disappearances are deeper than ever imagined.

With help from an escaped prisoner sent for execution, a blind Oracle, hired spy, family of mountain Giants, band of royal Earth genies, and army of druids, the group works to expose the biggest conspired plot that threatens every life on the Norlenbech Islands.

[I hesitate to reveal too much, because some things are supposed to be shocking!]

Characters:

Main:

Kevan Crest (Kev) is half-orc monk and follower of the goddess Amena. He is married to Veora Crest. Kev grew up severely bullied because of his race (orcs are seen as savages and half-orcs are considered abominations). He used his torment to gain strength and turned to the old art of fighting to learn discipline and defense. He found his faith in Amena, the goddess of justice, valor, strength, and war, after meeting Veora. Kevan is usually in high spirits. He is head-over-heels for Veora. He is loyal to a fault, which often leads to anger when his loyalty is not returned. He has a tendency to over drinks, but only when time permits.

Veora Crest (Vee) is a half-elf paladin of the goddess Amena. Her birth was prophesied by the priests of her temple. As soon as she could walk and talk, she was being groomed for the order. As a child, she came across a wounded Pegasus in the woods. After aiding the magical creature, it bestowed on her some of its abilities. In adolescence, Veora was pushed even harder in her religion and started questioning her faith as a result. During that time, a demon possessed her body. It was safely banished eventually, but not completely. Sometimes, Veora still hears it's whispers, and it is in those times she leans on her faith most. However, there is a part of her that craves to lose control again.

Warren Peace is the stage name of a Gnomish rogue fiddler and comedian. No one knows his real name. Part of the reason is because he keeps changing it, and the other is thanks to severe trust issues. Warren spent his life as a street urchin. He learned how to perform for survival, and he's never stopped. Quite a prankster in his youth, Warren was on the run from constables constantly. As an adult, Warren enjoys gambling, drinking, friendly competition. Despite his playful demeanor, Warren has a soft side. He is a romantic at heart, and this often clouds his judgement.

Torrin Stormbringer is a Dwarven inquisitor and worshipper of Zhorran, an ancient god of strength, knowledge, history, and self-perfection. Torrin gets his name from the awful thunderstorm that raged during his mother's labor. According to his father, electricity struck him and his mother right as he was coming into the world. She passed quickly, but Torrin survived. The electricity was actually a pure beam of energy that infused with his essence. He found out as a child he can call upon this energy, and with time he has mastered how to channel it through his weapon, a double-sided battle-axe. A few months after his mother died, Torrin's father was ran out of town by the locals. His father has never told him why, but Torrin is scorned by the Northern Dwarves because of the actions of his father. Torrin and his family moved to Elaiylen to find a better life. His father worked as a performer and taught Torrin how to play the lyre. Torrin considers himself a leader, and he craves power. However, above all things, he desires order, and he has a thirst for knowledge that is never quenched. Deep down, he feels there is more to his birth his father isn't telling him, and he has always felt his mother is still alive. His goal is to find out the truth of that night.

Secondary:

Jacob Pierce is the playful, yet extremely competent human detective. The case of the girls missing from his city haunts him, and he's vowed to uncover what happened to them.

Kelethios Nahilea (Kel) is the cover name for the Elven rogue sent to spy on the party. Eventually, he ends up helping them. [I don't want to give too much info because it's a spoiler haha]

Marianna is the blind Oracle who lives in a quaint cottage built into a rock behind a waterfall. She helps the party immensely.

Jane is a human pilgrim of Amena. She joins the party after a heartbreaking scene of trickery and loss.

I don't have names yet for the leader of the Giant family, any of the genies, or the druid. I can't pick good ones.

The World:

The Norlenbech Islands are divided into five districts.

Bostrosis covers the entire far north side and is thick with mountains and foothills. It is the least populated and most dangerous. The island never gets cold, and the average temperature in Bostrosis is a cool 65°F.

Estethra is the second Northern district. Foothills and forest are thick here, and the temperature reaches up to 70°F. The population is still scarce, however.

Aroa is in the center. Rolling plains and beautiful forests cover the land. The capital Elaiylen stands majestically in the middle. This district is the second most densely populated. The weather is always a sunny, 80-90°F.

Dieda is the first Southern district. With more plains, forests, and scattered foothills, it is arguably the most beautiful district in the land. The population is the most controlled, and this district is known for riches, art, and education. The only downside is constant 95° weather.

Moddim is located at the lowest southern point of the island. Terrain is diverse, despite the temps reaching well over triple digits. However, this is the most populated district on the island. It's terrain makes for a more diverse atmosphere. Moddim natives are known for their eccentricity and carefree attitudes.

There are four tiny islands just of the coast of Norlenbech. According to the locals, they are all uninhibited by humanoids and extremely dangerous.

I have pages and pages on world building and characters. I can't wait to share more of this world with you! Feel free message/ask, whatever! I love hearing about other people's WIPs! I hope you enjoyed the bit I've shared with you. :) I will definitely post more in the future!