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multi-fandom-imagine · 3 years

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Keep Bleeding Love || Abraham Alastor || Pt II

A/n: Here is the second part of the three part mini series thing. This is going to be long and this is the ending where the Reader ends up with our sweet Abraham.

The last part is going to have the Reader end up with Andrew.

also I might have to write some side stories with Abraham and Mary dealing with stuff from the future cause this fic was getting very long.

Part I

Request: mrsfullbuster500 asked:Hey, just wanted to say how much I love your writing and I wondered, if it's not too much trouble, if I could request an Abraham x present day!reader x Andrew fic? The idea is that the reader would've somehow gotten trapped in the past with Abraham looking after and protecting her until she's able to reunite with the present day group, but when it's time for her to return to the present with Andrew, Abraham finds himself hesitating to give her up because he's developed feelings for her.

One other detail I'd like to mention for this fic is that the reader would be the doppelgänger of Abraham's late lover, who was falsely executed for being a witch. So maybe he'd eventually see her doppelgänger as being given a second chance?

Abraham Alastor did not know how to feel, he felt like he could not breath. Why did you look so much like his late lover? And what where you even wearing? Shaking his head he held your small frame in his arms. Mary seemed to be in a better mood since she found you.

It did not take long to take you back to his home, something he was grateful for since he rather not explain your appearance to the other villagers of Little Hope. Placing you down on the spare bed, Abraham frowned digging his nails into his palm. It was painful looking at you, why did you have to look so much like her?

He was starting to doubt himself, that this was another chance at love. He was starting to believe that this was some punishment, it had to be. Flexing his fingers he turned away from your sleeping form, walking out of the room he made his way to his own. To tired to think about anything else, he would sleep on this and fix it in the morning.

Watching her brother, Mary waited for Abraham to slip into his own room. Hearing the door close she tiptoed to the spare room where you were sleeping. Taking a deep breath she slowly made her way to your side, she never liked seeing her brother get upset. After the death of their parents he was always the strong one....then she came along. The girl that looked so much like you.

She was kind and Mary was excited when she found out that she was going to be getting a sister but then it happened. Carver seemed interested in her too and he just would not leave her alone. Mary wished she could have stopped him but she was so scared and when your look like....the one that was supposed to marry her brother denied Carver. Well he did not like that and it did not take long for the Reverend to turn the town against the outsider and once that happened.

Mary had to wipe her eyes feeling some tears fall down her cheeks. She could still hear Abraham screaming out as they burned her at the stake. Shaking her head she quickly moved to sit beside your form, her small hand reaching out to grab yours. “Please...I beg of you...make my brother happy....” Biting her lip she let her small frame curled into yours as she fell into a deep sleep.

A week....it’s been a week since you’ve been stuck here. In a time that was not your own....did the others know you were missing? Or did time move differently?

Abraham did his best to help though the man was unsure on what to even do himself. He’d tried to talk to you but then he would go quiet and leave the room, Mary was sweet. She was the one who helped you in the odd clothing, you weren’t sure where she got them but you were not going to question it. Sighing your fingers smoothed out the long dress, it was warm and you couldn’t help but think how good it looked on you.

“God, I could totally get a job at the Salem Witch Museum....”Turning to look at yourself fully, a small smile tugged at your lips missing the sound of the door opening and closing.

“You look beautiful Y/n!.”

Mary walked towards you, her small hand grasping onto yours. With you here she did not have to play in the woods by herself. Smiling up at you she started to rock on her heels. Though she would have to make sure the others did not see you, she was afraid on what Carver might do.

“Thank you Mary, that’s very sweet of you too say...um do you know what’s wrong with Abraham? Did I do something wrong?”

Glancing up at you in confusion she tried to understand what you were telling her. She was sure Abraham was okay, what did you mean by that. “I do not understand.” Letting go of your hand she sat on the edge of the bed. “Are you worried for him? I am”

Sighing you knelt down in front of her grasping her hand gently. “I am..” You did not know if it was your feelings for Andrew now blurring in for Abraham but you did not like seeing such a sad look on his face whenever he looked at you. “Can you tell me why,,,,he barley looks at me.”

Shifting her body, Mary then looked down at her lap. “It is because you look like her.”

“Who?”

“His lost love...she is” Clutching the fabric of her dress she tried not to cry. “She was killed...If I did not tell the Reverend of the two about to elope then he wouldn’t hav-.”

“Have what?” Swallowing thickly you had a feeling on what happened but you wanted to hear if from the source.

“She was killed...accused of witch craft...but she was not a witch!...I saw him...he was touching her but she pushed him away then after that...he turned the town against her!”

“How did she die?”

“Burned....they burned her.”

Brushing your own tears away, you quickly stood giving the girl a weak smile. “Thank you Mary.” placing your hand on her head you ruffled her hair then walked towards the small desk. Glancing at the journal on the table you picked it up thumbing through the pages, now it made sense. Know one ever figured out who’s journal it was but now you did. If you ever got home you could bring this new information to light.

“At least it would give one person justice....maybe their could be away I can get this out.” Shaking your head you turned to face the little girl. “I’ll go take to him, cheer him up a little.” Giving her a wink, that seemed to have made her happy. “Now why don’t you get some rest.”

Fighting back you own yawn you heard Abraham’s voice shout that he was home. Biting your lip you had to suppress a shiver. While he did share the same face as Andrew....his voice was much different. Deeper than your friends, more smooth.

Stepping out of the room you cleared out your throat though Abraham had to do a double take.

“Those...that dress suits you...”Clearing out his throat you noticed that his cheeks tinted pink. “You look lovely.”

Walking close to him you reached out grasping his hand, giving it a squeeze you hated how he flinched from you. “Abraham we need to actually talk...I’m not going back to my time soon and since I really can not leave the house.”

“Y/n...please you do not know what you ask-”

“I’m not her Abraham!”

Flinching from the tone of your voice, Abraham turned away. Of course you weren’t her. That was not what was bothering him, what bothered him was that he found himself falling for you.

“I know you are not her and that is what’s more troubling. That I have fallen for a woman who is nothing like her.” It was an odd feeling, what he felt for you was completely different than her. You felt like you were his soul mate, the one he was supposed to be with. “This is all so confusing I...I need some time.” Closing his eyes tightly he shook his head then grabbed one of the hanging lanterns. “I will be back.” Ignoring the shouting of his sister he slammed the door shut stepping into the darkness.

Frowning, Mary grasped your hand gently. Her big eyes looking up at you, pleading with you. “You must go after him! please!”

Giving the girl a gently smile, you slipped on the shall then grabbed the remaining lantern. “I promise I’ll find him, scouts honor.” giving her a wink you slipped outside peering into the darkness hoping to find the man soon. You prayed that he wouldn’t do anything stupid. The man just confessed his feelings for you, while you knew that he worried for your safety it felt nice knowing that he returned your feelings.

Biting your lip you were trying to push back the feeling of not wanting to leave this place but you knew you had to go home. Taking a deep breath in you nearly stumbled over a tree root only for a pair of hands to steady your body. You wanted to call out Abraham’s name until you safe the face of the last man you wanted to see, it was the very man who caused all those deaths, the one was manipulated the town, who was manipulating Mary.

“Now what’s a pretty little bird like you wandering this woods at night?” You hated how calm he sounded.

“I was...looking for Abraham, he slipped out.”

“Ahh Abraham..” you nearly missed the man clenching his hands into a fist. “You look so much like her, like the dear one we lost.”

Biting you tongue you wanted to hurl an insult at the man, he was the reason why she was dead....if only you had the journals.

“Reverend Carver, now I do hope you are not scaring the poor young woman.”Another man stepped into your lanterns light. He was much older than the Reverend and you couldn’t help but notice how much the man looked like the Librarian.

Carver tensed then cleared out his throat. “Oh course not, I am just wondering why a young woman is wandering the woods.”

“I told him I was looking for Abraham.” You state stepping away from the two though the Librarian gave you a smile.

“Ah young Alastor...yes I ran into him...I sent him back home...he seemed troubled...now why don’t you run along too.” The man stepped in between you and Carver. Bowing your head you took that as your chance to leave, grasping your dress to took off running.

Slipping into the home, the first thing you noticed when you entered was Abraham hunched over, in his hands was the very journal you were holding on to before the bus crashed.

“Abraham?”

Tears running down his cheeks, his hands tightened around the journal. “He had her killed, because she denied his affections. Shaking his head his fingers clutched his hair. “I do not understand, first I see my doppelganger and then...I read of this...Carver...he.” Rushing to his side you let your hands run through the mans hair as he clung tightly to your frame.

“Shh we’ll get through this....”Closing your eyes you pressed a small kiss to his temple.”I promise.”

It took another dead, and another visit from Andrew that finally convinced Abraham on what to do. It was nice having you by his side to meet his double and you seemed happy to see your friends but he couldn’t help but feel the tightness that formed in his heart.

You both had finally grown closer and no what he might do, it might send you away from him but if that was the cost of saving your life, then he’d do it.

He turned his gaze away from his double, away from the other young woman that looked another towns person as he made his way down the stairs. Your were holding Mary closer, doing your best to protect the little girl as Carver hurled his accusations but the Reverend was not prepared when Abraham brought out his own evidence.

Though you couldn’t help but breath a sigh to relief as the Sheriffs dragged the screaming Carver away. Smiling you and Mary made you way towards Abraham. Placing your hand against his cheek you gave him a small smile as Mary grasped her brothers hand. “You did it Abraham, I’m proud of you.”

Giving you a bashful smile, he reached out grasping your hand. Weaving his fingers through your own. You, Mary and himself made your way back to his small house missing the pair of eyes watching you leave.

Once Mary was tucked into bed, you left her room nearly slamming into Abraham’s chest.

“Oh..jeez...I’m sorry....hey...you okay Abraham?”

Lowering his gaze, he cleared out his throat as he placed his hand against your cheek. “You must know that I love you y/n.”

Frowning for a moment, you let out a small laugh then shook your head. Why did he look so sad? “I do, you know that I love you too right...I’m sorry that I.” sighing you shook your head. You didn’t care, you loved him and you were willing you make that sacrifice to stay here with him. Just as you were about to kiss him you let slip a grunt of annoyance hearing a sharp knock on the door.

“Of course.” Shaking your head walked towards the door surprised to see the familiar face of the man from the woods.

“Can I help you.”

Though something was off about the man, he held a sullen expression on his face and the tailored suit his wore made it look like he was out of place. “It is time for you to go home y/n.”

“I am home I.”

“Not here...back to your own time.”

Stepping into the house he placed a comforting hand on your shoulder for a moment then letting go he reached into his coat.. “You can not stay much longer.”

Shaking your head you stepped back as he produced the journal. “But I want to stay here...just let me stay here.” Feeling your own tears slide down your cheeks you felt a familiar hand on your shoulder, spotting Abraham the young man was giving you a sad smile.

“He is right, you must go y/n. for your family...friends..it will not sit right with me knowing that I have kept you from them.,,please.”

Leaning down you felt his lips on your own, the man you thought who was your librarian was muttering something and then a white light engulfed the room. The weight of his lips vanished and you were now sitting in an old room, everything looked broken though glancing down the dress you once wore was replaced with your jeans and hoodie.

Fighting back a sob, you brought your knees to your chest. You ignored the familiar voice's of your friends. You ignored their concerned questions wondering what happened to you, you just wanted to ignore them all. Because talking to them meant that you would have to think about Abraham and that was something you did not want to do.

It’s been two weeks since the incident, the first thing you had done was to confront the Librarian and you found out that he called himself the Curator and that he was able to do thing. Everything was all to confusing, you needed to get away.

Slumping forward in your seat you were sketching him again though you couldn’t help but scowl when a voice cleared out its throat behind you. Sighing you closed the book turning around. “Look, can you go find another place to sit, I want to be alone.”

Shifting his body, Abraham tugged at the hoodie he was wearing, the pants and shoes weren’t to bad though he was happy that his hair was left alone but he wanted to impress you. He could have sworn his heart skipped a beat when he saw you. His lips twitched into a smile hearing your voice, he hoped you would be happy to see him and Mary.

“I’m sorry for disturbing you.”

When you finally looked up you felt like you had gotten punched in the stomach. “Abraham?” god you prayed it was him and it wasn’t some stupid joke that Andrew was playing.

“I am afraid so.” He tipped his head down to you, a small smile on his face. “I had a long talk with our little friend and...while you had everything to lose...I had nothing.” Grasping your hands in his he pressed his head against your own. “I love you y/n and I will not let you go.”

Laughing softly you stood on your toes giving him a gentle kiss but you were nearly knocked over when Mary wrapped your arms around your waist.

Breaking the kiss, you smiled down at the little girl as you placed your hand on her head.

“Are you happy to see us y/n?”

Squeezing Abraham's hand you nodded your head. “I am...and welcome to the 21 century...I have a lot to show you too.”

#abraham alastor #abraham alastor x reader #Abraham Alastor little hope #little hope #the dark pictures: little hope #the dark pictures little hope #the dark pictures anthology #the dark pictures #drabble #drabbles #requests #request #little hope abraham #x reader #reader #reader instert #female reader

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oss-crime · 3 years

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Chapter 2-Project “Ma” –Eve–; Scene 6

Original Sin Story: Crime, pages 56-69

One of the cities that made up the Twelve Royal Capitals was the city of Asmouse.

This town, managed by senate member Ceci Vaju, was the place where the historical backing of the Twelve Royal Capitals was most pronounced.

The people who had once began the excavation of the god’s legacy in this area—Senator Vaju was a descendant of theirs, and he was also a very passionate researcher of artifacts.

Fumbling for a way to more effectively utilize these artifacts, Senator Vaju founded the Royal Research Institute in Asmouse with permission from the previous queen. He entrusted the position of first director to a friend who shared his passion, Horus Solntse.

As their initial goal implied, the Royal Research Institute’s research wound up contributing greatly to the development of Leviantan engineering, weaponry, and living wares. The artifacts could be made to work with magical power, but Horus and the other researchers progressively discovered more effective operating procedures, and brought yet more glory to the Magic Kingdom.

Meanwhile, Senator Vaju and Horus also used the institute to pursue a different avenue of research.

That was “to deliberately create people who have strong magical abilities”. In other words, it was to make a candidate for the next queen be born under the domain of Senator Vaju, and was also necessary research for him to obtain the position of the next senate head.

But that research had proved to be much rougher going than anticipated, and Horus had passed away from illness before they could achieve any results.

Horus had an adopted son named Adam, and he was, too, a skilled scientist. For that reason he was hired on by Senator Vaju as the new head of the institute, and he also inherited their research—the “Next Queen Project”.

--That “Next Queen Project” had now changed its name to “Project Ma”, and was proceeding under the supervision of Head Senator Miroku.

…Most of that was inconsequential to Eve.

The important thing was the fact that Eve was, at present, the strongest candidate they had for “Ma”.

Not having much interest in science herself, Eve could only conclude that the Royal Research Institute was a cold, unappealing place.

“Wish I could have had a more comfortable chair.”

Adam gave a slightly troubled smile at Eve’s complaint, handing her a cup with a liquid in it.

“We’ll give that a fix the next time we’re making a device to test magical ability. But for right now this is all we’ve got…Well, anyway, give this is a drink if you like.”

“…What’s this?”

“It’s a drink called coffee. It’s not spread much outside the capital, so it’s understandable if you’ve never heard of it.”

With Eve’s mood souring more under the impression that she was being made fun of as a country hick, she brought the brown liquid to her lips.

“—It smells good. But it’s a little bitter.”

“It’s got a lot of milk and sugar in it. Drinking it should help you calm down a bit.”

“I think I’d be a lot calmer if I could get these wires off my arms and legs.”

“We need them to get an accurate reading of your magic. …It’ll take a little bit of time, so please try to be patient.”

The measuring device they’d used in the village of Nemu was a simpler, portable model.

Though, it wasn’t the fault of that device that they hadn’t gotten an accurate result back then.

“That spoon…is also extremely curious to me, as a scientist,” Adam said, brandishing the blue spoon that Eve used instead of a staff.

“At a glance it looks like a normal, bland item….But it can increase or decrease the magical ability of its owner at will. In other words it can amplify magic and also temporarily put a seal on it—”

“My mother gave it to me.”

“Did she make it?”

“I don’t know. I never learned that.”

“This might also be a legacy piece…Well, we’ll deal with that later.”

Adam set the spoon on a nearby table, and then drew closer to a large box that was next to the chair Eve was sitting in.

“Well, let’s get started.”

He pushed up a lever that was attached to the box.

Suddenly feeling slightly dizzy, Eve fell back a bit in the chair.

“I’m…a bit nauseous.”

“It’ll go away. We have to check to see if that powerful spell you used in the forest…was because of the spoon, or your own magical ability.”

“How…long will it take?”

“Hmm…About an hour, I think.”

“That long!?”

“It’s not like you have to keep perfectly still the whole time. Though you can’t leave the chair. You can drink coffee, or if you’re hungry I can bring you something to eat.”

“Then—” After looking up at the ceiling for a moment, Eve continued, “Can I talk?”

“With me? …Of course, I don’t mind.”

“Then…I want you to tell me something.”

“What is it?”

“About the ‘Witch of Merrigod’.”

Adam’s expression stiffened. “Why would you want to—”

“She’s the one who murdered the father who raised me. Isn’t it only natural that I would want to know about her?”

“What will you do with this information?”

“…Not sure.”

Eve herself didn’t know the answer to that question.

But—

“I can’t just go on not knowing.”

“…”

“Assuming I’ll become queen someday, I mean.”

“…I see. Yes, perhaps…so.” After gazing fixedly at Eve’s face, Adam steeled himself and then started to talk. “The ‘Witch of Merrigod’—Meta Salmhofer was originally an ‘Ma’ candidate.”

“You told me that earlier. But you said she was discarded for being cruel?”

“Yes. If you go southeast of the capital—far, far further east than the village of Nemu where you live, there is a place called Merrigod Plateau. That area is a dangerous region, used as a stronghold by a certain group.”

“…You mean the ‘red devotees’?”

“No, to be accurate those are little more than a single unit of this group. The name for them as a whole—is ‘Apocalypse’. There are some people who say they’re a simple crew of bandits, and there are others who caution that they’re an anti-social organization that seeks to overthrow the kingdom.”

According to Adam, not even the royal capital’s information bureau knew the true situation.

“What we do know is that the leader of Apocalypse is named ‘Pale Noel’. And that he and Meta are lovers.”

“Pale Noel…”

“His age, his appearance…all of it is unknown. Actually, we don’t even know if he’s really a man. Whatever the case, she’s this person’s girlfriend. We needed to exercise extreme caution even to go see them.”

At the time, Adam, Seth, and a few other researchers had gone to Merrigod Plateau with a peacekeeping force led by Gammon following along.

“But…that was a mistake.”

Adam heaved a great sigh.

“We just ended up provoking them. As a result…a small war broke out on Merrigod Plateau. Though that wasn’t what we scientists had intended at all.”

“But that wasn’t the case with the peacekeeping force and Apocalypse…Right?”

“Indeed. Gammon is always looking for glory. It’s like he’s a big bundle of ambition. Even more so after he became the head of the peacekeeping forces. He likely figured he could use his position as bodyguard to crush Apocalypse.”

But his plan ended in failure.

“Meta is an ‘Inheritor of Gilles’. She controlled the soldiers of the peacekeeping force with her power, and they all started firing at each other. Even us researchers, who they were supposed to be guarding, got caught up in it….We had heavy losses. That’s why the institute is still completely understaffed.”

Eve had come along to the institute with Adam, but now that he mentioned it she realized that she hadn’t seen anyone else up to coming to this room.

“How…many scientists survived?”

Adam spread his arms in a grandiose gesture and replied, “Don’t be surprised. Just me and Seth! Though this facility wasn’t very heavily staffed to begin with.”

“I see…How awful.”

Eve had the home where she’d lived destroyed by Meta.

But Adam too had had his friends murdered.

“Yes…Some of them I got along with quite well, and some I frankly didn’t much care for. But none of them deserved to die like that.”

On seeing Adam’s bitter expression, Eve was reminded of her own grief.

“Hey…Just what is an ‘Inheritor of Gilles’ exactly?” she asked, trying to change the mood.

“R-right…An ‘inheritor’ is, well…To put it simply, it’s someone with ‘supernatural powers’.”

“’Supernatural powers’? Unlike magic?”

“In this country there are people who possess ‘special powers’ different from magical power. For example…the white army. We know from our reports that clan has the power of ‘Inheritors of Salem’, able to wield fire.”

“I see…So that was it.”

Eve had always thought that the white army’s usage of fire was through magic, but it appeared this wasn’t the case.

“Among the white army there are people who are magically impotent—that is, they were born without any ability to use magic at all. And yet despite that they are able to use their fire powers just the same as their fellows. …Though I’ve heard that research into the fundamental theory behind it hasn’t progressed very far at present.”

“Is that research conducted here?”

“No. Research into ‘inheritors’ is the purview of Lighwatch Temple. Sir Yegor Asayev, the head priest, is the expert on it.”

“Wow…”

“So, honestly I don’t actually know that much about ‘Inheritors’. Just that they’re divided up into categories by ability, like ‘Gilles’ and ‘Salem’, and that those are based on the names of the god kin—”

At that moment, the box set next to Eve—the magical ability measuring device, started to faintly shake.

“Hey…Is this working okay?”

Eve pointed to the box.

“Hm? …Oh, that’s fine,” Adam replied, gazing at the symbols that popped up onto the box’s screen. “Would you like some more coffee?” he asked her, turning around and noticing that Eve’s cup was empty.

It was a peculiar drink; Eve didn’t find it all that tasty, and yet she kept bringing it to her lips for some reason.

“Yes, please…But before that, one more question.”

“What is it?”

“…Why did Meta go after my father?”

“…That I don’t know.”

His eyes looked somewhat shifty.

Still, Eve couldn’t tell if Adam was playing dumb or not.

“Well then, a different question.”

“You’ve quite a lot of those. I actually have a lot of things I want to ask you, you know.”

“What does the royal capital…or rather, the military, plan to do about Apocalypse?”

“What do you me—”

“They’ve killed a lot of people, right? The people of the village of Nemu, and the people from this institute…’Sin must be punished’…Even I know the laws of this country.”

“…”

Adam took the cup from Eve and left the room without a word.

--In hardly any time at all, he had returned once more with a cup full of fresh coffee.

“Here you go. I put in more milk than last time.”

“Thanks.”

“…They are to keep careful watch over Apocalypse—That is what the military…or rather, the senate, decided.”

“--! Why!?”

“At present, Apocalypse has done no damage to the Twelve Royal Capitals. For the kingdom, the white army and the others are little more than barbarians at their border. The capital’s protection would be imperiled if they moved their security forces against them any further than they have.”

“So you’re saying that as long as the royal capital is alright, it doesn’t matter what happens to the others?”

“…I’m just a mere scientist. What I’ve told you now is just what I’ve heard from Gammon.”

Even if he was involved in a project of great importance to the country, he wasn’t in any position to say much more on the government outside of that—That’s likely what he meant.

Eve could tell that.

She could, but…

“That’s unreasonable. The ruler of a country needs to understand the suffering of its people…I think now I understand why my father hated politics,” Eve muttered, frustrated.

“…”

Adam looked upon Eve in silence for a short while, but eventually he shifted his gaze to the measuring device.

Then he took up the piece of paper and quill set on the desk and started to write something down.

--Midway through his work, Adam said, still not looking at Eve, “In that case…You should become the ruler.”

“…”

“It seems you have the qualifications for it.”

“So you mean…I can become queen? Has it come up with a result?”

“No, it’s still measuring, but…At this point I’m already seeing some impressive numbers. I think…your magical ability is much higher than that of your father.”

Even so.

No matter how gifted she was, Eve was still just a simple girl who knew nothing of governance.

Would anything change by someone like her becoming queen?

--Appearing to sense her anxiety, Adam set down the paper and quill and drew close to her.

“It’ll be fine, I know it.”

“…”

“I’m sure you can do it.”

“Can I do anything alone?”

“You’re not alone.”

“My father is dead. And the people of my village are gone. I don’t have anyone—"

“—You have me.”

Adam clasped Eve’s hands in his own.

…She couldn’t bring herself to brush aside the warmth in them.

“Do you dislike me?” Adam asked.

“…If I did, I wouldn’t be cooperating with all this…But, what about you?”

Adam had gotten close with Eve just because she might have had strong magic.

She was just a candidate for queen to him.

That was surely the reason for him being so kind to her like this—

“I wouldn’t be trying to have someone I disliked selected as queen,” Adam said plainly. “You’re an enchanting woman. I’ve thought so since the first time I met you.”

“…Didn’t you stab at me with a sword at first?”

Adam burst out laughing at Eve’s reply. “Pfff…Ah haha, that’s true. Please forgive me for that. I was desperate back then.”

“Are you good with a sword?”

“I’ve only learned enough to defend myself…Ah yes, speaking of swords.”

Adam shifted his gaze to a sword that sat in the corner of the room.

“We ended up bringing that over here.”

It was Raisa’s sword, the one that Gammon had thrown to him in the forest.

“It’s an unusual shape…Its current owner is currently in prison. Not much point in returning it.”

“Raisa is…alive?”

“Just barely. Though even if her wounds are healed, thinking on what she’s done…She’s not likely to avoid an execution.”

“…”

It wasn’t just Raisa.

The Witch of Merrigod Meta, and Pale Noel.

In this world, so much—

Evil had spread.

Even if Eve continued to fire lightning as the “Witch of the Forest”, she could never get rid of it all.

It was impossible for one person.

She would need—much more power.

And for that…

Eve chewed her lip.

--As though to mock the resolve that had begun to sprout in Eve’s heart, several days later something happened.

Raisa, the white fiend of Jakoku, escaped from prison.

There was no way that she could have accomplished this herself, being near death.

It was likely that an outside person with influence had pulled some strings.

Meanwhile, the magical potential measurement result…was suitable for queen candidacy, just as Adam had predicted.

Her M count was over 350…Eve didn’t know how much exactly, but at the very least it was more than enough to secure the agreement of both Adam and the senate.

And with that result, Eve could smoothly become queen—or so she had thought.

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self-proclaimed-chaotic-good · 4 years

Text

Night at the Museum | Adam Milligan x Reader

Prompt: Family

Fandom: Supernatural

Words: 2230

A/N: Wasn’t feeling well for a few days (still don’t but oh well), so here’s yesterday’s story prompt. This is a continuation of [True Winchester Fashion]. I’ll have today’s prompt up later.

The cases were getting more confusing with each passing day. One incident looked clearly to be the work of a vampire, the next is a witch, and another a werewolf. All in one town in the span of two weeks. Sam and Dean gathered in Adam’s apartment, their things scattered on the medium sized Ikea dining table.

Adam had been checking up on you every now and again, and you appreciated it, which was why he was the first person you thought of when something bad happened again. You had been working in the museum after hours when you heard noises coming from one of the exhibits under construction.

“Larry?” you called out to one of the security guards in the walkie talkie.

“Everything alright, (Y/n/n)?” Larry asked.

“Yeah, just thought I heard something from the west wing.”

“I’ll check with surveillance and have someone stick with you until you go home if you want.”

“Okay, thank you.”

“No problem.”

You went back to finish sorting through the bookstacks, a small hand radio softly playing nineties music on one of the desks.Twenty minutes later, you were finished with one large stack and deciding to call it a night. You checked your phone and realized how late it got. Looking sound, you had assumed that one of the security guards were guarding the library entrance, but no one was there.

“Larry?” you said through the walkie talkie. You waited, hearing nothing but static. “Larry? Bill?”

You grabbed your things, stuffing a thick and old leather bound book in your bag, and clutched the walkie talkie close to you as you closed up. With every sound or movement you thought you saw in the corner of your eye, you would try to contact the security guards again.

Whenever you had seen these types of situations on screen, you always thought of how foolish that person was for being in a building after hours, alone at night. But, you had always felt safe in the museum. The staff was friendly and the security guards were caring and protective. The fact that none of them were answering was worrying. You thought back to the night that your friend died, your heart racing in your chest as you try to make one last call out before leaving.

“Larry?” you tried again as you made your way towards the exits.

You waited. Static. Then tried again. There was an echo of your voice from a walkie talkie nearby. You turned, but saw no one. You squeezed the walkie talkie, pressing the button one more time without saying anything. You heard the noise again, looking around the dimly lit room and spotted the walkie talkie lying on the ground next to a pool of dark liquid.

You forgot to breathe as you rushed out of the building, your back feeling vulnerable as you jogged to your car. Your hands shook as you tried to unlock the doors and climbed in, locking them again as soon as you sat down, then started the engines.

This was a small town, so you had always tried to stay out of trouble or else the entire town would know about it. Meaning, not once had you gone above the speed limit, in fear that your parents’ friend and classmate gave you a ticket and then they would never stop bringing up the one ticket you ever had and how you disappointed them. This time, however, a ticket and frustrations was not as scary as the possibility of getting murdered.

Once you were locked away in your apartment, you sat in your bathtub and called Adam.

“Hey, everything alright?” he asked.

You let out a long breath, wanting to steady your heartbeat. “I don’t know what’s going on. I don’t know why this is happening,” you whimpered, “I didn’t know what to do, I just… i needed to talk to someone to calm down.”

“Okay, we can do that. Do you wanna talk about what happened?”

A hot tear rolled down your cheek as you tried to make sense of the past events. “I think… I think something happened to the security guards at the museum. I panicked. I didn’t get a good look, but I just wanted to get out of there as soon as I could. Am I being silly?”

“No, of course not,” Adam assured you, “Listen, I’m in contact with those feds that came by that night at the bar. I’ll go speak to them and see that they can look into it, okay?”

“Okay. Thanks, Adam. I’m sorry for bothering you-”

“You’re not bothering me. I want you to be safe.”

“Okay,” you said softly. “I, uh, I’m gonna call a coworker and see if she can notify the police of what happened. Can you… can you come over?”

“Yeah, sure. Just text me your address.”

Adam hung up, clenching his jaw as he pictured you at home, too afraid to even go outside after what’s been going on around town. You didn’t deserve to deal with all of this. Whoever or whatever is killing people will have to face the Winchesters for what they’ve done.

He walked out to the living room and slumped down in a chair next to his brothers. Sam noticed his tired expression, wordlessly passing a can of beer to him. Adam nodded in thanks, popping it open and taking a swig.

“What’s up?” Dean said, looking up from his laptop screen.

“Something’s going on at the museum and I want to go and check it out,” Adam said.

“What, like a Night at the Museum thing or like a new contemporary modern art exhibit with canvases that just have random splashes of paint worth thousands of dollars kind of thing?”

Adam frowned, thinking back to cases in the past few weeks and how they were connected. You were always nearby when they happened. He stood up and grabbed his jacket and car keys.

“I don’t know. The police are heading over there right now. I’m gonna go and check on (Y/n).”

“Right. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” Dean teased.

“So do everything except eating healthy?”

Adam shut the door behind him before Dean could retort. The oldest brother shook his head.

“What an asshole. Where the hell does he get it from?”

Sam gave him a pointed look, then turned his attention back to his research as he cleared his throat.

Sam and Dean had arrived at the museum, flashing their badges and speaking with the sheriff. They had found one surviving security guard who was knocked unconscious while the rest who were on duty had been killed.

“Anyone else was here during that time?” Dean asked the museum’s director.

She shrugged. “Usually some curators, conservators, and one or two archivists. Everyone’s been working hard to get the new exhibit up and running, which is why we usually have more than one security guard on duty.”

“Exhibit?”

The director’s eyes lit up. “Oh, yes. We’re doing something fun this year and diving into myths, legends, and magic. These stories have contributed to our history and we’ve wanted to do something different. We even had a few donors who’ve had records and items from the Salem witch trials-”

Sam and Dean exchanged a knowing look. “When did these donors come in?” Sam asked.

She tapped her chin and hummed. “About two weeks ago? Oh, dear. You don’t think someone would kill for these items, do you?”

Sam offered her a reassuring smile. “We’ll figure out who did this. In the meantime, I suggest postponing the exhibit.”

“Of course, of course.”

“Mind if we check the exhibit? You know, just to make sure nothing was stolen.”

“Oh, yes, of course. Follow me.”

The director led them to the back where they stored the items and displays, leaving them for a moment to retrieve the inventory list. Her heels echoed through the spacious warehouse until she reached the back. She frowned at the list, going back and forth between the opened crates.

“Oh, dear, there’s something missing,” she muttered, “Oh, I see. It must have been one of the historians or the archivists. Usually they’d make a note of it, though. They know not to leave the building with any of the items here.”

Dean asked for the list, which she readily handed over. She pointed at the missing item, a thick leather bound book with a metal lock on it. He flipped through the pages, looking for a picture of the book before handing it back.

“Are there cameras in the warehouse?”

Adam pulled up in front of your building, double checking the address and apartment number. He climbed out and immediately felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

“Be careful,” Michael said to him, “There’s something here. Get to your friend quickly.”

“Why do you think they’re all after (Y/n)?” Adam asked, speed walking towards the steps.

Michael paused for a moment. “There must be something they’re not telling us.”

Adam knocked on your door and waited a beat. He could hear shuffling on the other side of the door followed by two locks clicking open. You poked your head through the door, opening it wider when you saw that it was Adam. He walked in, watching as you relocked the door and made your way towards the couch.

You slumped against the arm rest, burying your face in your hands. “This is all my fault,” you mumbled.

“What do you mean?” He slowly sat next to you, eyes scanning the room before looking back at you.

“I knew better than to take the book, but… I don’t know what I was thinking. It was almost like it was telling me to take it. Because of me, Rachel is dead. And so is Larry and Billy.” You rubbed your face hard, tears falling out before you could do anything about it.

“(Y/n)), start from the beginning. What book?”

You got up on shaky legs to retrieve your bag from your room. Reaching over to your desk, a bang from the window startled you. A shriek escaped your lips, heart threatening to follow after. Adam rushed over, wrapping a protective arm around you. He narrowed his eyes at the window but saw nothing. He led you back to the couch where you handed him your bag.

He unzipped the bag and pulled out a heavy leather bound book with a padlock holding it closed. In closer inspection, the leather material may not be leather at all, just that it was dyed and weathered to look like it. With one quick look, Adam could easily identify it as some kind of grimoire.

“Where did you get this?” Adam asked.

“The museum,” you said, wrapping your arms around your knees as you curled up again, “The director needed someone who spoke Latin to help translate some of the pages. The historian that usually does it is away, so that left me, though I can’t translate quite as well as the historian, the director insisted that I translate it as soon as possible… Now that I think about it, it seems all ridiculous. I don’t know why I listened.” You shook your head. “I guess I was too scared of losing my job, but I didn’t really realize until I translated the first few pages how dangerous it was.”

“What does it do?”

“I didn’t think that it was real! I just thought… I didn’t know…”

“(Y/n),” Adam said more gently.

You took a deep breath in and exhaled slowly. “It… apparently it has a spell that draws in all creatures within the vicinity, as if it was a beacon. It sounds crazy-”

“(Y/n), trust me. This is not crazy.” Adam inspected the book before putting it down on the coffee table. “Those feds that you met at the bar a couple of nights ago?”

You nodded.

“Well, they’re my brothers…. And they’re not feds. They…. My family comes from a line of hunters,” Adam began to explain.

“Hunters are quite different from brewery owners,” you muttered, trying to lift your mood up.

Adam chuckled. “Yeah, they hunt everything that goes bump in the night and then some. They’re the best at what they do and they’re looking into what’s been happening around town. They can help you with the book, (Y/n).”

You huffed out a laugh and shook your head at the situation you brought yourself into. “That’s great, but is there anything else that you failed to tell me?”

Adam looked down and smiled. “The, uh, the notes from micro lab? I didn’t need them. I just wanted an excuse to talk to you.”

“Adam, if you’re lying to make me feel better about endangering the entire town-”

“I’m serious!”

There was another thud at the window closest to the living room. You jumped, your eyes immediately landing on that cursed book lying among your stained coasters, ripped envelopes and spare rubber bands. The cursed book that started all of this. It shook with each thud that hit the window, a tall dark shadowy figure standing on the other side of the curtained window. You covered your ears as Adam stood, quickly texting Sam and Dean to hurry over.

“Don’t worry, (Y/n). I won’t let anything happen to you.”

#WritersMonth2020 #adam milligan x reader #adam milligan #supernatural #supernatural imagine #SPN #spn imagines #adam winchester

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themuzzleofnemesis · 4 years

Text

7–Memory of the God; Scene 2

The Muzzle of Nemesis, pages 229-239

It was our last resort after failing to avert the destruction of the world. That is, to flee from Earth.

Seventy-two people were selected for the crew of the large spaceship, “Climb One”. All of them were celebrated scientists and researchers, as well as their assistants.

I, Levia Barisol, rode on the ship alongside my brother and my mother.

We had already selected several candidate planets viable for human immigration from many years of space exploration. The goal of the “Climb One” was to improve upon the environment of one of them to make it closer to that of Earth’s.

We weren’t the only ones able to successfully escape from Earth. Once we had achieved our goal we would reconvene with other spaceships and restart our culture on this new planet—or so we planned.

As time went on, one by one the periodic communications from the other ships came to a stop.

I can only speculate as to why. But I think it’s because some of the deviants who had been the cause of the Earth’s destruction—“HER”s—had snuck into their crew.

Ultimately we were forced to conclude that the “Climb One” was completely on its own. The odds of there being any other Earthlings alive outside of us was exceedingly close to 0.

We altered our initial goal, and decided that we wouldn’t just improve upon the new planet’s environment, but also undertake the creation of a new lifeform that was close to that of earth people. Unfortunately the genes of the spaceship crew had already mutated, and as such we had to give up on creating any clones. There was no point in making lifeforms with no reproductive potential, after all.

The task given to me was fine tuning the new lifeforms’ minds. They would need to be able to build up a culture similar to that of what we had on Earth in a shorter timespan. One of the crew who liked computer games had remarked that it was like a “New Game Plus”, which wasn’t actually all that wrong.

As per its name, the “Climb One” had to become a foundation by which mankind could “climb up” from the tragedy of their dead Earth.

At the end of a long period of work, we finally achieved our great feat.

An environment that resembled Earth’s, and a new race of humanity.

We had successfully created both.

It took many sacrifices to get there. A being of “HER” had been on the “Climb One” as well.

Seth Twiright—A man who by all rights would not normally be on the ship. Right before he had been selected as part of the crew it was discovered that he was an “HER”, and it was thought that after that he had committed suicide. No one noticed for quite some time that he had ridden on the “Climb One” by masquerading as another member of the crew.

As a result a great deal of the crew died, and it wound up leaving some slightly distorted figures in the long-awaited new world, the “Third Period”.

I had retained the spirit data of the deceased sixty-two crew members. Under suggestion from Professor Held, these ended up being installed in a forest in the new world.

They would watch over the new world as “spirits” that could have no influence on its culture.

Thanks to Seth there was a very high probability that “HER”s had been born into the new world as well.

The remaining crew discussed what counter-measures we could enforce, but it was there that a definitive crack arose.

Eight of us--I, my brother Behemo, my mother Rahab, and Gilles, Vlad, Marie, Salem, and Lich--insisted that we should transplant our spirit data into the new race of humans and proactively manage the new world hereafter.

But the remaining two—Professor Held and Hazuki—opposed that.

They argued that “The role of ‘Climb One’ is over. Now we should leave the world to the new humans, and quietly wait for death inside this spaceship”.

We just couldn’t accept that.

Neglecting this world that we struggled so long to create.

I don’t know what the two of them were thinking.

In terms of numbers, we were the overwhelming majority.

But the “Black Box” device we needed to move the spirit data couldn’t be used without the consent of all living crewmembers.

The verbal quarrel finally broke out into a mutual slaughter.

--And at the end of it, the spaceship “Climb One” crashed to the ground.

Our physical bodies were destroyed, but fortunately our spirit data remained in the ship.

However, without our bodies we wouldn’t be able to use the “Black Box”. I’m repeating myself, but to activate the device we needed a living crewmember.

Even if we could work the “Black Box” through some means, we had no destination for the spirit data to be moved to. At that time it would have been fortuitous if there were a body in the new humanity that was suitable to be transferred into, but it was hard to imagine that working out well.

What I came up with as a compromise was a “dud” sample left in the crashed ship alongside the “Black Box”. It was a creature that my brother had created during the course of his research into the new humanity, and it had a form that was almost like a “dragon” from fantasy stories. We would move our spirit data into it temporarily as it sat in cold storage, and after that take our time waiting for a body among the new humans.

…Only, my brother—the one who actually made it—apparently wasn’t that enthusiastic about this plan.

Right before the spaceship crashed, Professor Held and Hazuki injected me and my brother with a certain chemical.

It was a drug that could change humans into this “dragon”. And we wound up with the unpleasant sensation of feeling both the fear of our bodies changing into monsters, and also at the same time fear of the imminent crash.

--In any case, first we had to resolve the problem with the “Black Box”.

There was nothing we could do but wait, for quite some time. Perhaps once the new humanity’s culture developed there would eventually be someone who could activate the “Black Box”.

We continued to wait for that day inside the ship as spirits.

--And it was through that that I came to learn the reasoning for Professor Held and Hazuki’s objection.

Thanks to Seth, my spirit had also become violated by malice—“HER”.

As time went on, my spirit data was gradually changing.

And—

In the end, I became something that desired only destruction and chaos.

We had no use for a world that would not be as we wished.

We would destroy it all.

And then do it over again from the beginning.

Finally, our chance arrived.

Seth Twiright was truly an amazing man. It seemed he’d been able to manage a transfer of his spirit data right before we killed him.

We didn’t notice it because he’d moved his spirit data to a body that he’d been keeping in cold storage. He’d slipped it past our notice by sneaking it among the sleeping new humanity.

The cold storage device was shut down by a timer, and he finally opened his eyes inside a laboratory named “Lunaca Labora”.

An illegal stowaway though he may be, Seth was also a member of the crew of the “Climb One”, as far as it went.

He should have been able to activate the “Black Box”.

The problem was, trapped in the ship as we were, we had no way of contacting Seth across such a vast distance.

The culture of the new world had advanced considerably. As our technology was scattered through the area around the crashed ship in particular, a country with a superior culture that made use of it came to be, called the Magic Kingdom Levianta.

Ruling this country was a woman called Alice Merry-Go-Round. Strangely, she had the ability to contact us.

I don’t know why. All I can say is that it was an unanticipated product of this new world that was outside of our supervision.

My brother and I decided to disguise ourselves as “gods” and give a revelation to Alice.

But then, us being “gods” wasn’t entirely a lie. We did create this world, after all.

By Alice’s decree Seth was invited into Levianta. He ended up being in charge of the ark “Sin”—what the people of Levianta called the “Climb One”—as one of their researchers.

Naturally, we ordered Seth to activate the “Black Box”…but he refused.

There was no way he’d accept what we told him to do, given we tried to kill him.

However—we still had a chance.

In the “Climb One”, Seth had infiltrated as one of the members of the team that designed the new humanity. Using that knowledge, he newly constructed artificial humans in the world called “ghoul children”.

These were also clones of Seth.

So then, these “ghoul children” should also have been able to use the “Black Box”.

What was more, my brother and I had been progressing along in preparations to obtain bodies. He had told me that he wanted a proper human body, not just the failed “dragon”.

And so we tried to have appropriate bodies—the “Twins of God”—born into the world via “Project Ma”—an artificial insemination project named such by the new humans.

Although, that apparently wasn’t working out. The first mother selected had miscarried, and the next one safely birthed the twins but then ran off with them. Due to various troubles with the ones after that, we were unable to secure bodies we could move into.

And as that went on, time passed pointlessly.

The “ghoul children” each had their own individual will, and some of them lived within the country of Levianta.

That was the siblings Kiril Clockworker and Irina Clockworker. I considered using one of them to get to the “Black Box”.

Fortunately—or perhaps unfortunately—Irina was selected as one of the candidates for mother in “Project Ma”. My brother proposed waiting for her to give birth to the “Twins of God” and then having Irina activate the “Black Box” afterward.

But—I couldn’t stand to wait any longer.

I didn’t know if Irina could give birth to the “Twins of God”. It might be another failure.

If that was the case, then we already had a body. Even if it looked like a dragon, at least I would be able to get outside.

A certain woman was murdered during the pointless quarrel over the selection for mother candidate in the seventh “Project Ma”.

Her name was Elluka.

She was Kiril’s girlfriend.

Kiril’s heart had grown weak.

It was simpler than anything to take advantage of it.

I guided Kiril to the ship—and was finally able to get him to activate the “Black Box”.

However…he was after all a mere clone. The certification didn’t completely take, and so the “Black Box”—broken down due to the crash and age—started to run out of control.

The “dragon” defrosted and started to rampage before we could shift our spirit data into it, destroying the ship.

Amid all the chaos the “Black Box” continued to operate on its own—and moved mine and my brother’s spirit data somewhere.

That place was…Elluka’s body.

In this world there is a certain Rule.

--“The souls of those who are reincarnated shall have their prior memories sealed”—

Having “swapped” into a body that wasn’t suited for transfer, I lost my memories.

I have several questions regarding the experiences of the others’ spirit data aside from my brother and I.

First, Professor Held. He and Hazuki’s data wasn’t inside the crashed ship.

But there was a being called the “Great Land God Held” in this world. A great tree of the forest that had a will of its own.

If his true identity were that of Professor Held’s spirit data, then when in the world had he found the time to move said data there?

And I was quite sure that he hadn’t wanted to oversee this new world in the first place.

There was another god in this world—that bat they called the Sun God was probably Hazuki, but I had the same questions regarding that as I did the Great Land God Held.

And aside from that, there was also the data of the remaining six who had been in the crashed ship with us.

I had thought that they vanished after being caught up in the ship’s destruction, yet their souls had at some point been settled inside various items called “The Vessels of Deadly Sin” along with Seth.

--Strictly speaking, Lich was the exception. His soul alone had come to live in the forest as a spirit along with the other crewmembers, not joining with the rest of us.

…Though naturally, at the time I had lost all memories of being Levia, and so I had not been able to even contemplate such questions then.

I came to live in the new world as “the sorceress Elluka Clockworker”.

Perhaps influenced by having obtained a body from this new humanity, I became able to perform a movement of spirit data even without a “Black Box”. By using this to periodically change the body I dwelled in, I was able to live for a very long time.

A man searching for his lost love, Karchess.

A wild thief, Platonic.

The drunkard red swordsman, Leonhart.

The cool and collected assassin head maid, Mariam.

My adorable apprentices, Michaela and Gumillia.

The servant devoted to his sister, Allen.

The hot-blooded cop, Ayn.

I had met with various people along the way, and also parted with them.

--That life changed about six hundred years after I had first “swapped” into Elluka.

There was another aside from me who led an eternal life. The girl who had her spirit data put into a red cat plushy by Seth…Kiril’s little sister, Irina.

She had challenged me to a duel.

As a result of the battle at Merrigod Plateau, my brother who was inside Elluka with me went to the “heavenly yard”—

And my spirit was swallowed up by a new being.

A woman who was born as the result of a merging between me, Irina, and one of the “Demons of Deadly Sin”, Eve.

She took the name of “Ma”.

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littlemisssquiggles · 3 years

Note

I noticed some posts pointing out how in the trailer, Ruby and Nora are actually saying what Ironwood had been saying the previous Volume: "This isn't just about Atlas, this is about the whole world," as well as pointing out how their new plan is ultimately abandoning the city they were trying to protect for a safer area and the whole reason was because not everyone made it out, but ultimately dividing everyone further because of the secrets they kept and the trust lost. Your thoughts?

Hey there Miki-chan o/ Apologies for taking so long to respond.

Hmm… those points seem to imply as if the heroes were firmly against the Amity project from the start? I was more under the impression that our heroes took no issue with Ironwood’s plan to restore communication to the rest of Remnant. Where they disagreed was in his decision to inform the world of Salem’s existence considering the grim repercussions it may have sparked as well as how Ironwood’s plans, while with good intentions, were simultaneously affecting the wellbeing of the People of Mantle considering that funds and resources that could’ve been used to reinforce the Kingdom were being pooled towards Amity Arena. Hence the conflict with Robyn Hill and the Happy Huntresses.

With Salem showing herself for the first time in centuries, Ruby and Nora are correct in their remarks. As Ruby rightfully pointed out in the V8 Trailer, currently Atlas (and by extension Mantle) is only Salem’s current target. As soon as she achieves what she desires, gaining the Relic of Creation for herself, she will most definitely move onto claiming the remaining two Relics in Vacuo and Vale. Possibly setting course for Vacuo since she already has her Grimm pawns stationed at Beacon Academy still trying to find the Relic of Choice hidden within the Vault of the Fall Maiden.

The way how I see it; both sides of the coin are in the right to some degree. Ruby and Nora are right for being concerned for the rest of Remnant being victimised by Salem.

Hoooooooooweeeeever…. in this instance, I may have to sort of side more with since he is also very much correct that the People of Mantle and Atlas need their help currently. While the rest of Remnant will be next, at the moment Salem is mainly focused on the two Solitas kingdoms so they should concern themselves with the current target and do what they can there to help the Atlesians and Mantlese who will be hurt then and there in Salem’s pursuit of the Relics.

Basically Ren is more right in saying that the rest of Remnant can wait since Mantle and Atlas need them at the moment so therefore they should be given more priority at the moment.

The rest of the Remnant is safe for the time being (unless Salem sends forces to attack the remaining kingdoms while launching a full frontal assault on Atlas and Mantle at the same time).

It’s a tricky situation and like I said, both sides are technically in the right. But if I had to side with one, I agree with Ren with doing what they can to help Atlas since stopping Salem from destroying Atlas and Mantle and keeping her away from the Relic of Creation does seem like the bigger priority since it has the bigger consequence should they fail.

Buuuuuuuut…at the same time, finishing Amity Arena should also be prioritized since it prove advantageous to everyone and actually help them in the long-run with potentially saving the People of Atlas and Mantle. Personally I’m still under the impression that Atlas will fall taking Mantle along with it. However there is still allusion of Vacuo Kingdom coming to Atlas’ aid that was teased by in V6.

There is still Tyrian Callows’ remark about the fight being turned favourably in our heroes’ corner should Ironwood finally come to his senses and call upon aid from Vacuo. And based on what Watts’ said, technically Oz is the one who can talk some sense into the General.

So with that in mind, this makes me think that we might end witnessing a case where Atlas and Mantle are destroyed but not before our heroes are successful in launching Amity Arena, restoring communication to all of Remnant and possibly sending a distress signal to rest of Remnant warning them about the threat of Salem.

And in response to said distress, Vacuo is the kingdom that answers Atlas’ call for help and much like how Vacuo Kingdom had Vale’s back during the Great War, Vacuo will have Atlas’ back as their leaders send their forces to aid the Atlesians. So while Atlas and Mantle will be destroyed, the People of both Atlas and Mantle will be taken to safety in Vacuo.

I’d like to think that will happen since I don’t think Atlas will survive Salem’s attack. And if Atlas falls, so will Mantle and both kingdoms, that once were praised as the most technologically advanced citadels in all of Remnant will cease to exist.

Both Atlas and Mantle will die---or at least Atlas will surely die--- and its people will probably have to start from scratch; possibly leading to the refugees of Atlas and Mantle reuniting and coming together to rebuild their fallen kingdom---one that both sides can call home. That’s how I see things potentially going but that’s just me.

That being said, I do find it a little strange that JNR_RWBY’s plan was now to abandon the People of Mantle. Wasn’t their concern for the treatment of the People of Mantle by the General and his forces and disliking the effects his actions were having on them not what made characters like Ruby suspicious of him in the first place?

Correct me if I’m wrong here Miki-chan but…wasn’t Mantle the group’s core motivation for their deceit towards the General? It feels as if the pages have now been flipped within our young hero group in respect to their aims. Back in V7, Nora was one of the folks on JNPR_RWBY advocating for the security of the People of Mantle and now when given a chance to aid them, she thinks it best to focus less on the refugees of Mantle and more on warning the rest of Remnant?

Whereas Ren whose intentions seemed to be more in line with Ironwood's is now pushing for protecting Mantle. I guess in that respect, I can understand Ren since the Mantlese were currently going through what he went through back in Kunoyuri. So in that sense I would understand why he would wish to focus on saving as many people down in Mantle as they could now that the real threat is here and Ironwood straight up left the People of Mantle to die out in the colds with the Grimm.

But in this case, I would've expected this to be an instance where Nora and Ren would be in agreement considering their shared experience from the Fall of Kunoyuri and how that event affected them. Not to mention that Nora wanted to help the People of Atlas and Mantle more than ever. Now when given a chance to focus on helping the people, her choice is deviate attention to restoring Amity Arena?

Nora Valkyrie During V7:

“You have to remember that the kingdom lost the Great War. The People of Mantle needed a sign of a brighter future and that sign was Atlas. After all, a home in the clouds is about as bright as it gets.” “…Unless you’re the one having to look up at it.” (V7CH1)

“…I still can’t believe you’re going to that thing.” “Just because Ironwood dislikes Robyn doesn’t mean we all have to. From where I’m standing both of them seem to be trying their best to help Atlas. As to who’s doing a better job” (V7CH6)

“The Amity Project is completely stalled.” “But we’re so close. There has to be some way we can finish the tower.” “There is. Declaring martial law.”

“You’re not actually considering that, aren’t you?”

“What’s more important? Establishing communications. Unite the world or appeasing a few city blocks?”

“Don’t make it sound trivial when you know it isn’t. You keep talking about how we just need a little more time but you’re not the one having to struggle.”

“We have all had to make sacrifices for the greater good. Mantle has had to bear a lot of the burden, yes, but---“

“They’re bearing all of it! The longer this waiting game goes on, the harder each day gets for people down there and now you want to send in more soldiers? You can’t force people to fall in line. If you do that then you’ll just be trading all of these problems for the Grimm!” (V7CH7)

Nora Valkyrie in the V8 Official Trailer:

“Atlas is only Salem’s current target. Once she’s done here, she’ll move onto the rest of Remnant.”

“There are people here who need us right now.”

“We need to warn them!”

…??? Yeah, I expected Nora to be the one to push to help the People of Mantle with Ren since…she was mostly doing that through the last season.

I mean don’t get me wrong, I find nothing wrong with the heroes wanting to restore Amity too since like I said before, it will prove advantageous to them in the long run if through the tower, they’ll be able to warn the other kingdoms about Salem while possibly sending for help.

It’s just…I figured Nora and Ruby would be more favourable towards helping the People of Mantle since that’s what got them in trouble with the General in the first place? It even lent to some of their actions like how Yang and Blake went behind everyone’s back and told Robyn about Amity Tower.

I don’t think the case if that Ruby and Nora wish to abandon Mantle for a safer area, I think it’s more along the lines of them mimicking Ironwood’s actions of leaving the People of Mantle by the wayside while prioritizing the completion of Amity Arena. So basically…the more I repeat it, the more it sounds as if Ruby and Nora specifically have dropped the protection of Mantle (the protection of few) in favour of completing the Tower which could ultimately aid in the protection of everyone since by restoring communications to the world, Atlas could call for aid and this will help Mantle as well.

Or, as Nora put it, they could use the Tower to warn the other kingdoms of the potential of an attack from Salem.

Which…could technically prove more harmful than good since what if…Amity is completed but the minute Atlas sends out a distress signal, Salem instead decides to use Amity as a platform to broadcast the destruction of Atlas Kingdom to the whole world?

Basically imagine…all of Remnant (or at least it’s primary leaders meaning the Councils) being an audience to the fall of the what was originally their strongest kingdom with the impending dread that their kingdoms could be next?

Imagine if something like that happened and the restoration of the tower leads to providing the perfect catalyst to descend Remnant into more chaos, actually serving to accelerate Salem’s plans than put a stop to it. In the instance of this, forget division amongst our heroes---something like that could result in dividing the world and sparking another war.

Heck, imagine if…this results in the kingdoms or rather certain kingdoms choosing to side with Salem for their own and since our heroes stood against Salem, they ultimately made the kingdoms who swore loyalty to her their enemies as well.

All of that is up for consideration but it doesn’t appear to be of concern to our heroes for now. What are your thoughts on that? (Not sure if I actually answered your question. Sorry, I get so swept up in my tangents that I wonder if I actually do answer you at some point with all my jibber-jab so if I have or haven’t, please let me know XD)

~LittleMissSquiggles (2020)

#squiggles answers: rwby #nora valkyrie #ruby rose #rwby volume 8 theories #rwby theories #miki-13 #squiggles answers

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jordswriteswords · 4 years

Text

I Don't Believe In Magic

A continuation of my Clextober universe. I Don't Believe in Magic is set in the College time of Clexa. I'm always accepting more prompts!

---

Lexa drew circles in her notebook with her right hand while her left supported her lazy head. She sighed and flipped the page as the lecturer continued to drone on about mythology. She didn't even know why she took this class. It was a joke in one aspect - listening to humans blather on about mythical beings and how eerie and strange they appeared in comparison to their human counterparts - but another part of her longed to find some similarities between herself and the humans.

She easily found one - they were terrified of one another.

Lexa just didn't understand why.

Her father had scolded her time and time again for being careless with her magic, giving herself away to humans. "You can only rewind someone's memories so often before you run into trouble, Alexandria."

But, Lexa always had a soft spot for humans - always interested in the way they perceived the world and knew that deep down they were more alike than they knew. So, denounced her family tradition of attending the top wizarding school in the world, and accepted the soccer scholarship offered to her by Arkadia University.

***

Clarke Griffin was on a mission. Her last name carried the power of a world-saving doctor. Unfortunately, it also carried the expectations. But Clarke was always known to defy expectations.

That's why she wanted to go above and beyond her mother's medical degree, and double major in both medicine and art.

It was her greatest ambition.

It was also her stupidest idea.

Because, at eight in the morning, when Clarke could have been sleeping before her three hour Animal Kingdom lab, she was stuck in this stupid Mythology 101 class, learning about creatures that never existed and paintings that didn't capture anything of substance.

She wondered how high some of these painters were when they painted these things. Because scientifically speaking, there was no way a woman could take an inanimate object, like a broom, and create enough velocity and speed to have it fly.

Clarke was a woman of science. She had seen her father beat death twice, all due to the medical advancements of man. Sure, hundreds of years ago it would have been seen as witchcraft, but she was positive that the only magical beings were the things that weren't researched.

She sighed, rubbed her eyes as the sigh turned into a yawn, and flipped the page of her agenda, scheduling her free time into her already packed schedule.

***

"Excuse me, I understand that as a society, we've always been a bit spooked by the unknown, but it just seems like the entire concept of witches were solely based on repressing women. I mean, Medusa only turned the men that raped her into stone, but she's spoken of like a villain. Women who showed any sort of forward thinking in Salem were hunted down for witchcraft. I think that maybe we should be discussing the mental health of the accusers than the 'magical powers' of the accused."

Lexa's ears perked up at the husky voice in the midst of destroying the lecturers current argument. Not that she knew what it was, zoning out into a state of semi-consciousness as the monotonous voice of the lecturer carried on.

She looked across the room, noting the long blonde hair and dark blue leather jacket sitting in the front row. She felt her heart do a funny thing then - it beat with a staccato rhythm, every pound precise as she gazed at the girl.

The beating of her heart was so loud that the rest of the argument was lost to the sharp beat in her ears.

Before she could snap her fingers to bring herself closer, the lecturer had dismissed the class, and the blonde was the first one out of her seat.

Lexa grumbled, wishing that at this moment she could snap her fingers to catch up to the blonde. Instead, she had to hustle down the stairs from the back of the class, her shoulder bag flopping against her bare leg.

She caught her just as she had stepped out of the building. "Hey!" Lexa said.

The blonde didn't turn around. Lexa ran past her and came to a stop just in front, doubled over and gasping for breath. She held her hand up to the blonde to ask her to wait.

"I really don't have time for this," Clarke sighed.

"I just -," Lexa gasped. "I wanted to - whoo," she panted, "I wanted to tell you that I liked what you said back there."

Clarke quirked a brow.

"About witch hunting."

"Oh," Clarke laughed. She let her eyes trail up and down Lexa's lithe figure, noting the purple soccer shirt she wore and the short soccer shorts that left little to the imagination. "No one really believes in that stuff anyway. Witches? Goblins? It's just stuff parents tell their kids to behave."

"Maybe we could discuss that? Over coffee?" Lexa asked.

Clarke's grip tightened on her bookbag. "Thanks, but I don't believe in magic. It was nice meeting you…" she trailed off, waiting for the brunette to say her name.

"Lexa, and you will."

"Lexa," Clarke repeated. "It was nice meeting you. See you next week." And with that, the blonde was off.

"Is that the face of a girl who has been sorely rejected?" The dark figure asked as it stepped out of the shadows of the building.

"I'd ask you how much you heard, but I know you're a lurker," Lexa replied, not bothering to look over her shoulder and acknowledge her sister.

Anya laughed and slapped her sister on the back. "I'm not a lurker, I just happened to leave class at the same time. She's cute."

"She's human," Lexa said.

"And yet, that's never bothered you."

"Of course not," Lexa said with a cheeky smirk.

***

"Oh my God," Raven gasped.

Clarke looked up from her notes for a second to check that her friend was okay.

"Who is that hottie? How have I never seen her before?"

Clarke glanced over her shoulder, much to Raven's protest. "Don't look! Oh my God, you make it so obvious!"

The only person Clarke saw was the long brown hair of the soccer player in her class - Lexa.

"Lexa?" She asked her best friend. "The brunette?"

"Screw the brunette, I mean the blonde sitting with her!" Raven said. "She's hot."

"They're both hot," Clarke commented offhandedly. "They're probably together."

Almost as if being summoned, Lexa and her companion stood from their table and walked towards Clarke and Raven.

"Be natural, but they're headed this way," Raven said. She adjusted her posture to sit up taller, pushing her chest out.

"Totally natural," Clarke teased. She bowed her head just slightly, pretending to be deep into her work. For some ungodly reason, the idea that Lexa was walking towards her was unsettling.

"Hey Clarke," Lexa said, stopping by the table. She adjusted the strap of her satchel on her shoulder. She held a regal posture, swagger and confidence seeping from her core. "What's up?"

Clarke looked at her, stunned by the intensity of the green eyes - ethereal in their beauty. She hadn't seen a pair of eyes quite that colour - as though it was constantly shifting when she finally found the name to match the shade. They were light at first, but the longer Clarke stared, the darker they appeared.

"Oh, hey, um…" She was so taken aback by the girl's eyes that she fumbled over her name.

"Lexa," Lexa answered for her. The quirk of her lips disappeared at the rejection. Her eyes shifted to a sharp green before they dropped to her shoes. Her cheeks turned red in embarrassment. "I um," she shook her head. "Nevermind."

Anya cleared her throat.

Embarrassed that the girl she hadn't stopped thinking about could barely remember her, Lexa swung her bag wildly to knock the pile of books in front of Raven to the floor and hustled off, her cheeks hot with embarrassment.

"Hey!" Raven yelled after her.

Lexa got all the way to the parking lot before the sound of the raspy voice she was enamored with got her to slow down.

"Hey!" Clarke yelled. "Lexa!"

Lexa stopped walking, pulling in a deep breath into her chest. Lexa Woods was better than some silly embarrassment. She turned, cocky smile on her lips and ready to greet Clarke again, but anything she had been planning disappeared with a sharp pang in her cheek and a hollow thud only she could hear.

She fell back onto her butt, her outstretched arms the only thing stopping her from hitting her head.

"You know, you're such a dick. Bullying someone with a disability isn't going to make me want to be your friend! You may be the school sweetheart because you can kick a ball, but Raven is so much more than you'll ever be."

Lexa gaped at the blonde, confused by her words and impressed by the ache in her jaw.

"Just leave me alone, and don't you ever put your hands on Raven or her things ever again!" She turned and stormed away before Lexa could even get a word in.

***

"You're a genius!" Anya sighed, throwing her bag onto the counter of her shared apartment with Lexa.

"Yay," Lexa said sarcastically.

Anya pouted down at her sister and flopped down onto the couch beside her. She flicked her wrist and an ice bag hit Lexa in the face.

"Ouch," Lexa whined. She adjusted it to press against the blossoming bruise she had received from Clarke.

"Raven's human, but the science she used to fuse her spine and create that brace to allow her to walk is practically magic. She's so open minded. Not to mention, beautiful. She and I are going out tomorrow."

Lexa sighed and smiled at her sister. "I'm happy for you."

"I'm sorry Blondie KO'd you. I cleared it all up and told her that you were just incredibly clumsy."

Lexa shrugged.

***

"Hey," Lexa said to the blonde as she entered her Mythology class. She wanted to clear the air and apologize to Raven. "Listen, about yesterday - I didn't -"

"I know," Clarke sighed. "Raven already yelled at me. I'm a little overprotective. Sorry about the left hook."

Lexa smiled down at the girl, and shifted her satchel. "I think it's hot," she said. Her eyes widened, and she looked away, her cheeks dusting pink at her slip.

"Well " Clarke said, pulling at the edge of her textbook, "I'm really sorry. I thought you did it on purpose."

"I did," Lexa answered, nodding at the blonde, "but not for the reasons you think."

Clarke quirked a brow.

"My sister wanted to meet Raven. I had promised to introduce her, but you couldn't remember my name and I was embarrassed. But, I never break a promise, so," Lexa shrugged one shoulder.

Clarke looked down at her text. "Yeah," she breathed.

The lecturer walked in at that moment, and Lexa sent one last look at the girl before heading up the auditorium steps to her seat.

She spent the entire class picturing blonde hair and blue eyes.

***

"Hey, Lexa?" Clarke called out to her as they exited the building. It was pouring rain, most students huddling under the awning as they prepared to race to their next class.

Lexa turned and smiled at the blonde. Clarke was struck again by her beauty. "What a miserable day," she said. "It'd be a good day for a warm drink."

Lexa might have had a witty response if she weren't so preoccupied of the way the little clouds of condensation curled out of Clarke's lips when she spoke.

Clarke chuckled. "About that coffee," she said, hands tightening on her textbooks. " I have eighteen minutes until I have to get to my next class. Would you like to join me?"

Lexa smiled and Clarke blinked rapidly, swearing she saw the green of her eyes shift to a lighter shade.

"Do you feel that?" She asked Clarke.

"Feel what?" Clarke asked, unable to pull her gaze from the brunette even as the girl stepped out into the rain. She was thoroughly soaked when she turned back to Clarke.

Her smile was blinding in it's intensity. "The magic in the air."

"I don't believe in magic," Clarke called, cheeky smile on her lips.

Lexa ran back up the steps next to her and produced an umbrella seemingly out of nowhere with her clothes remarkably dry.

"You will."

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devinsfm · 4 years

Text

joe keery. cis male. he/him. ／ jack devin just pulled up blasting video killed the radio star by the buggles — that song is so them ! you know, for a twenty - four year old radio show host, i’ve heard they’re really impulsive, but that they make up for it by being so captivating. if i had to choose three things to describe them, i’d probably say obscure vintage horror comics, blurry photographs of mysterious figures in the woods, and vivid descriptions of spine - chilling tales . here’s to hoping they don’t cause too much trouble ! ( sam, 23, est, she/her )

hey there, demons ! *ba tum tss* i’m sam and i never do this, but i really felt like it was time for a change, so i drew lots of inspiration from some of my favorite ocs and i love what i’ve come up with ! character info is under the cut and please feel free to message me if you would like to plot !

i. stats

𝔣𝔲𝔩𝔩 𝔫𝔞𝔪𝔢: jackson willard devin

𝔭𝔯𝔢𝔣𝔢𝔯𝔯𝔢𝔡 𝔫𝔞𝔪𝔢𝔰: jack, spooky guy, the night watchman

𝔥𝔬𝔪𝔢𝔱𝔬𝔴𝔫: salem, massachusetts

𝔡𝔞𝔱𝔢 𝔬𝔣 𝔟𝔦𝔯𝔱𝔥: ocotber 31st, 1995

𝔷𝔬𝔡𝔦𝔞𝔠: scorpio

𝔬𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔫��𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫: demisexual

𝔬𝔠𝔠𝔲𝔭𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫: host of the graveyard shift, a radio program airing every weeknight from 12am to 5am

𝔭𝔬𝔰. 𝔱𝔯𝔞𝔦𝔱𝔰: captivating, witty, resolute.

𝔫𝔢𝔤. 𝔱𝔯𝔞𝔦𝔱𝔰: impulsive, gauche, naive.

ii. history

jackson willard “jack” devin was born on halloween day ( yes, really ) in salem massachusetts ( yes, really ). his mother stayed home with him as he was growing up while his father is a boston cop turned sheriff of the county and he’s an only child.

outside of the popular tourist spots, his hometown has a very close - knit, stuck in the 80s vibe. it’s the sort of place where everyone knows everyone for their entire lives because no one ever leaves and no one new ever moves in. phone and internet signals are nearly impossible to come by, so the local arcade and the video store still have quite a booming business in the year 2020. jack grew up in a not - so - typical small town suburban gothic environment, his dad’s income being just enough for them to get by every month.

he was an energetic kid who cycled through all sorts of interests, trying out everything from little league ( disaster ) to music lessons ( not as much of a disaster, but he wound up getting bored of it ). nothing seemed to really stick until he got his first horror comic : a vintage issue of tales from the crypt with tattered, yellowing pages. he was five years old and paid five cents for it at an elderly neighbor’s yard sale and from that moment on he was hooked. it started with the comics, but he quickly expanded his horizons to movies, books, and television in the genre of horror.

he got intro drawing and that was the only thing besides his newfound interest in horror that he could sit still for. at first he would just try to re - draw the panels in his comic books, but soon he was drawing anything and everything that caught his interest and he was getting good. he was being homeschooled by his mother at the time, but once friends and family and, well, everyone took notice of his skill, they were encouraging his parents to nurture his talent.

his parents fought about it. his dad didn’t see the value in his skill and wanted him to instead focus on academics, aspiring towards his son one day becoming a lawyer or a businessman or even following in his footsteps. jack never wanted that for himself. he was homeschooled by his mom up until then and she believed in him. it was with her blessing that he would go to a real school for the first time at the age of fourteen, starting off his freshman year at a high school that was a thirty minute train ride away in boston and catered exclusively to youth who demonstrated an exceptional talent in some area of the fine arts.

jack did well in school, but his grades probably would have been a lot better still if he didn’t start purposely acting out as his relationship with his dad got worse and worse. he started skipping classes, getting caught trespassing in cemeteries at 2am, and smoking a lot of weed.

when it came time for college, jack planned to attend art school. he swears he did. he looked a few schools on the west coast to get away from his dad for a few years yikes and planned to apply, but on the deadline date he got so high that he forgot to submit his portfolios. yes, really.

he loaded up his van ( a turquiose monstrosity he painted to look like the mystery machine ) and headed out to california anyway after telling his parents that he would be attending UCLA. of course, they quickly found it that it was a lie and his dad was furious. the two got into a huge fight over the phone and things were said. the result is that jack and his father haven’t spoken to each other ever since.

he did lots of odd jobs while he was on the road and basically lived in his van, which didn’t change right away when he decided to settle in LA, but he eventually got a job fetching coffee for the late night employees at a local radio station.

it was the typical, cliché story : the regular late night host called out of work at the last minute, there was no one else around and they were going to be on air in ten seconds. jack was thrown in front of the microphone and told to think fast !

he did, and the listeners loved him for it. whether it was his ramblings about horror movies or his thick boston accent or his reckless use of swear words on live radio, he turned out to be a massive hit. the successful night earned him a gig as an occasional substitute deejay, and with each broadcast he grew more and more popular, and about two years ago he was finally given his own program.

the graveyard shift is a radio program that airs every weeknight from 12am - 5am in the los angeles area and on apps such as iheartradio. jack hosts the show as his ( thinly veiled ) alter ego the night watchmen and discusses topics such as the paranormal, conspiracy theories, and all things horror. it’s one of the most popular programs of the time slot in the country.

it’s something that he never expected or picturing himself doing, but now he can’t imagine doing anything else. he’s become really passionate about revitalizing the field and bringing radio into the 21st century. he signed a HUGE contract with the studio when his show first started and now he’s a quite well known radio personality in the area and across the country.

iii. extras

huge stoner. high as fuck 90% of the time, and the other 10% of the time he’s probably still high, just not as fuck.

well known for his on air antics. he’ll light a joint in the middle of his radio show, he’ll prank call a friend and broadcast it to the entire city, he’ll curse in every single sentence and skate by on the after hours excuse when he’s reprimanded for it. he’s so outlandish and bizarre and like nothing that’s ever been heard on the radio before, and it just draws people in.

he often seems shy in person, but it’s more like he’s just a little socially awkward, something which also shines through in occasional non - malicious but blunt remarks and general lack of regard for what people think of him. he really just...doesn’t care.

genuinely seems to believe it’s either halloween day and / or the year 1986 at any given moment as that’s about as recent as his pop culture references get. he’s never heard of the k*rdashians, he doesn’t know what the mcu is, and the phrase yeet means absolutely nothing to him. mention any of it to him and he’ll just stare blankly bc he honestly doesn’t have a clue.

HOWEVER, he did start the area 51 meme from last summer. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

still draws. especially if he has to still for a stretch of time, then he’ll take out his latest sketchbook ( he goes through a lot of them ) and start doodling. he’s still quite good, mostly in his favored comic - esque style.

BIG CHAOTIC ENERGY and ZERO IMPULSE CONTROL

a chatterbox with friends but don’t be fooled...he’s been giving his own dad the silent treatment for almost seven ( 7 ) years now. it’s his preferred method of expressing anger towards someone because he isn’t really a fan of confrontation, but he’s maybe a liiiittle bit stubborn.

most of the time he’s a really easygoing person, a good friend and very loyal to the people he cares about. well - meaning, not the best at advice but he’s more likely to try and cheer a person up anyway.

he has a pet pied ball python named the crypt keeper ( tkc for short ) who he sometimes just carries with him because he likes to just chill wrapped around jack’s hand and arm.

iv. wanted connections

maternal or paternal cousins ( their grandparents probably live in boston or new england but otherwise anything goes for this )

close friends

friends

guests on his radio show

fans / haters of his radio show

people who don’t like him / find him annoying

exes ( 1 - 2, can be on good or bad terms )

“casually dating” but it might get real complicated soon - allie james

( these are just ideas and i’m trash at coming up with stuff, so please don’t feel limited by what’s listed here. )

#excess:intro #drugs tw #i decided that i needed something new but i just ''created'' this ''new character'' instead #countdown until i mess up his name has officially begun

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kleptonancydrew · 4 years

Text

MID Thoughts

So I’m not one of the people with the thought process for typing out a cohesive review so you’ll be catching my train of thought. Sorry.

One of the big things I have noticed in the reviews is that if you like talking to characters you are much more likely to enjoy the game. Talking to people and cutscenes (with rare exceptions) have always been my least favourite part of Nancy Drew games. So for me the major uptick in dialogue and cutscenes made the game miserable. (And yes you can skip them - but on the first play through you want to know what’s going on.) Also the captions need to be fixed before the next game - let me see the whole thing please.

I enjoy the historical aspects of the game. I took two courses relating to the history of witchcraft in uni so a lot of this actually took me back to my Witchcraze class. There was a lot to learn but I was disappointed with the museum - it feels like we could have had several more displays. I also don’t love the way they take text from things and then put it into a tiny straight forward display. I know that for some this might help and it should be included but the control for it should be elsewhere - not in the center of the page when I’m trying to turn pages.

The tour thing should have more clear. The tablet thing took a tick to figure out. As should the offering things to people. In previous games you have to talk to people to exchange objects and I got stuck for a bit.

Maybe the controls are better if you are playing with a mouse but like many adults I rely on laptops exclusively. The whole right click thing was very difficult. As a somewhat petulant side note - I have a touchscreen laptop and previous games have all been pretty touchscreen friendly for most things. This game was not touch screen friendly at all. Something minor is that why did they get rid of the magnifying glass cursor - would that really have been so hard to integrate? It is fitting and cute.

I wish a line had been dropped (maybe it was and I missed it) about how just because something is herbal and all natural that does not mean that it is good for YOU. People are all different and herbal remedies can have major side effects based on personal health. They can also screw with any modern medicines you take. Some can also interact poorly when you are using multiple. And if you don’t have the issue that something is treating that can also cause problems. I know most of us here are adults (I’m pretty sure most everyone here who wasn’t when MID was announced certainly is now), but like kids also play this game and I don’t want them getting medical advice from Nancy Drew.

(Also maybe a line about how yes we don’t burn ‘witches’ anymore but satanism is still bad and magic isn’t real.)

Alicia’s comments about Jason and him being attractive were really uncomfortable. I’m a teacher and I go through so many protect the young ‘ins things that this was really setting off all my alarm bells. I know he’s supposed to be over eighteen but so are some of my seniors - does not make it okay in my book.

The plot was fine - good intrigue and was interesting. Some of it was weird but was explained by poisoning. Some parts were very confusing to me. I have no idea how anyone got underground. How could a teenager just leave their cell phone and peace out (well actually I did have to run out of the school the other day to find a kid who forgot their phone at the end of the day). I did like the scare in the bed - that was cool.

Making the pancakes was fun - I wish you had to switch up the recipes for the special pancakes, that would be more fun in my book. The herbal stuff wasn’t really complicated after you got the first couple done.

I didn’t really think much of the puzzles. Based on the way I played through (maybe different if I go again) they were all clumped up towards the very end.

I didn’t love a lot of the personalities in the games. But, I rarely do so whatever.

I’ve posted before about how the navigation feels like kayaking in DDI - you need to be in exactly the right place to get where you want to go and it takes forever to do so. I found the town center and the museum really difficult to navigate in particular.

Maybe I’m stupid and never quite understood the laurel in the mirror thing - was that supposed to be some type of Lauren look here? Remember how Josiah Crowley put his will in a safety deposit box at a bank - what ever happened to doing that? Or one of those fireproof lock boxes? Also was there any point to the bedroom at either house? Besides the one weird dream and Teegan’s photo?

Also I didn’t like how things kept saying the same thing when you accidentally clicked on them - like I know that has been a thing historically but it’s still annoying.

Also what was with all the papers and stuff on the floor and spread everywhere constantly? I’m a mess and my organization is accomplished by making piles everywhere but even I’m not nearly that bad.

Also, much like TOT - it’s really obvious who the thief is right away.

Another thing is that like, did HER even make this game? No. If I wanted a game from another company I’d give them money. I turn to HER because they have previously had a history of turning out two decent if not fabulous games a year.

I like having more places to explore. I dislike that they take so long to load. Even the game startup takes forever compared to other games.

The lip syncing is really annoying - it seemed like they had fixed that over a decade ago. Also the text and dialogue didn’t match. I am someone who always has captions on things and having them so off is irritating.

TBH I didn’t really feel like the Hardy Boys added much to this game.

Also the whole Carson is friends with the Judge guy reminded me of how I greatly dislike my dad’s so called best friend. Just because a dad is willing to overlook some people’s faults doesn’t mean the daughter is.

Also, the continued mention of Salem being like some sort of small town where everyone knows everyone is so out of place with our knowledge that this does take place in 2019 (or around this time). Salem has a population of over 40 thousand according to the Google. My hometown is somewhere just under 30 thousand which I considered small town, until I moved to the midwest where it is apparently bigger than most cities. I’m not saying someone cannot be a known entity in a town that size (high school sports in America make plenty of teenagers decently known in towns), I’m saying that there should be enough going on in that town that someone else has caused trouble since. The only reason I remember the name of the kid who got hit walking home from school causing the town to put in a very inconvenient traffic light is because we went to the same uni in a different state and he got kicked out twice. (I crossed that stupid highway everyday with zero issues, probably even on the same day he got hit.) I was gonna say something about modern education systems working on bleeding out such backwards thinking but then I remember that we’re literally graduating nazis so like, nvm. (My personal goal as a teacher is to contribute to eliminating innocent ignorance - kids aren’t born knowing things and the adults in their lives need to work on introducing them in positive ways to avoid the distrust, fear, and hatred that stem from ignorance.)

Maybe if they fix the navigation and optimize it better for the vast majority of the population who use laptops with trackpads (I don’t have a desk where the hell am I supposed to put a mouse?) it could nice for the next game. But they also need to work on the character animation and other issues. But then like, do we even know there will be a next time? I know Little Jackalope’s positive media minions have said so. But they also said 2016. And October. And any number of other things that might have been said in good faith but ended up not being true.

I think I just feel meh about everything. This was not the best game ever, and yeah maybe SCK and STFD had some pretty bad graphics too - but it’s twenty years later, I was hoping we’d be moving forward not back. If you want a really positive review look elsewhere. I’m still committed to HER but I realised the other day that very few of my newer friends/coworkers know how obsessed I have always been with HER because I’ve had nothing to talk about. It sorta feels like I’ve lost a part of my personality.

Also the physical copy cover is real shitty. I feel like that 100% could have been fixed if more attention was payed. You can’t even see the name of the game.

#Midnight in Salem #MID spoilers #sorry for subjecting you to my stream of consciousness #I'm tired and have eaten nothing but junk food #Go Navy #Beat Army

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f4liveblogarchives · 4 years

Text

Fantastic Four Vol. 1 Annual 1979

Thu Sep 12 2019 [09:09 PM] Wack'd: That's right, 1979, even though it's 1980 [09:09 PM] Umbramatic: THE 80S [09:09 PM] Wack'd: Marvel Wiki kinda has to cram these things back into canon whenever there's a break in the action [09:10 PM] maxwellelvis: Which there wasn't really for any of 1979, it seems [09:10 PM] Wack'd: Yeah [09:10 PM] Umbramatic: i would make an 80s joke but that was before my time [09:10 PM] maxwellelvis: Was that the longest arc they've had so far? The space adventure [09:11 PM] Wack'd: I don't know why this couldn't have happened before that but whatever. The alternative is that I create my own timeline and the team is excruciating [09:11 PM] Wack'd: The space adventure was pretty hecking long, yeah [09:12 PM] Wack'd: So we open in media res, with a Sandman fight. Resolved by Sue force-fielding him and Johnny using his fire to freeze him into crystal [09:12 PM] Wack'd: Which I'm pretty sure should kill him but whatever [09:13 PM] Wack'd: He'll be fine [09:13 PM] Umbramatic: sandman: "this is fine" [09:13 PM] maxwellelvis: Really shows the differing level of threat Sandman provokes between Spider-Man and the Fantastic Four [09:14 PM] Wack'd: The president of the bank Sandman was robbing gives the Four a reward: [09:14 PM] Wack'd: A cat calendar [09:14 PM] Umbramatic: cats [09:15 PM] Wack'd: This is canon forever now

[09:15 PM] Umbramatic: AWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW [09:15 PM] maxwellelvis: It's priceless! Literally worthless! [09:15 PM] maxwellelvis: Oh, Ben likes it. I can't make fun of it anymore. [09:16 PM] Umbramatic: i love ben [09:16 PM] Wack'd: Also: Franklin wants to join the Four! Reed says maybe when he's older, as though that's a real thing that will someday really happens [09:16 PM] maxwellelvis: lmao [09:17 PM] Umbramatic: don't worry it'll happen once ash ketchum turns 11 [09:17 PM] Wack'd: Agatha has come up from Whisper Hill to invite the Four and Franklin to vacation with her to New Salem! I'm sure this can only go well [09:18 PM] maxwellelvis: We're only going on vacation to the haunted town we barely got out of last time with our skins, in a double-length issue. [09:18 PM] maxwellelvis: What could possibly go wrong? [09:19 PM] Wack'd: An interesting device that's been happening over the past four pages is that at the bottom of each page there's been a horizontal-one-panel cutaway to an occult ritual happening. [09:19 PM] Wack'd: I can't really screenshot that but it's really neat [09:20 PM] Umbramatic: oooooh [09:20 PM] Wack'd: Hahahhaahaa

[09:21 PM] Umbramatic: rip ben [09:21 PM] Umbramatic: he just wants to go to disney world [09:22 PM] Wack'd: So they land at the airport, rent a car, and drive to New Salem. But Ben has trouble finding it, naturally [09:23 PM] Wack'd: Oh look, I found Waldo

[09:23 PM] Umbramatic: but did you find his girlfriend carmen sandiego [09:25 PM] maxwellelvis: Dear lord, we've stumbled into a Renaissance faire! Everyone run! [09:25 PM] Wack'd: Some real good layouts here. George Pérez: great at his job

[09:25 PM] Wack'd: Also: Johnny nearly gets his soul sucked out [09:26 PM] Bocaj: It Happens [09:26 PM] maxwellelvis: Gordon and Susan from Sesame Street have joined Agatha's coven, apparently. [09:26 PM] Wack'd: Well, they're the baddies [09:26 PM] Wack'd: So that stinks [09:26 PM] maxwellelvis: Never trust people who hang out with puppets. [09:27 PM] maxwellelvis: Who know what all the people in your neighborhood do. [09:27 PM] Wack'd: Also if you notice from the two-page spread, apparently the only black people in town 😬 [09:28 PM] Umbramatic: oh [09:28 PM] Bocaj: Bad show, comic [09:29 PM] Wack'd: So the Ceremony of Renewal happens. And what is supposed to be a remembrance ceremony for people killed in the witch hunts and a way to re-energize all of the townsfolks gets hijacked by those guys from the blue panels, who steal all the magical energies to bring back...this dingus.

[09:30 PM] Wack'd: Of all of the things you could've possibly done with unlimited magic energy, really? This guy? [09:30 PM] Umbramatic: dingus [09:30 PM] Wack'd: Oh right the blue panel guys were his henchmen. His impossibly dumb-looking henchmen

[09:31 PM] Wack'd: Was the one third from the right always so...Marge Simpson? [09:31 PM] maxwellelvis: FEED ME EGGS, HOMER [09:32 PM] Bocaj: oh hey i recognize some of these dinguses from the scarlet witch vision miniseries [09:32 PM] Bocaj: When Vision dryhumped babies into Wanda [09:32 PM] maxwellelvis: Somebody brought them back again?! [09:32 PM] Bocaj: 'pparently [09:33 PM] Wack'd: Fight fight fight [09:34 PM] Wack'd: Marv Wolfman: A Man Who Knows A Lot About Gazelles

[09:37 PM] Wack'd: Reed, shattering or otherwise bypassing force fields is a fucking gimme power for your villains. You say you want to fight the Fantastic Four and you get "ignoring force fields" in your complimentary gift bag

[09:37 PM] Bocaj: Reed is dumb [09:38 PM] Wack'd: So the Four get their asses thoroughly kicked [09:39 PM] Wack'd: Normally this would be the part where we cut away, and they all wake up in a prison cell which they break out of, and the plot proceeds [09:39 PM] Wack'd: But this time is different [09:39 PM] Wack'd: And Marv Wolfman is not going to just ignore the fact that this small child has just seen his entire family get beat unconscious [09:40 PM] Wack'd:

[09:42 PM] Wack'd: Franklin uses the power of inconsolable sadness and fear [09:42 PM] Wack'd: It's...*sniff*...it's super-effective [09:43 PM] Bocaj: huh [09:43 PM] Wack'd: Seriously. I like this scene a lot [09:43 PM] Umbramatic: awwwwww [09:44 PM] Wack'd: I like that we're being forced to reckon with the danger Franklin is regularly in. And the fact that he's just a kid. And that for him to use powers he doesn't know he has--for him to be the deus ex machina we routinely mock--he has to be in a real dark place [09:44 PM] Wack'd: And I like Agatha acknowledging that this is hard for him and comforting him [09:46 PM] Wack'd: So uh. Meanwhile. The Salem Seven are conducting a ritual on the roof of the Baxter Building to destroy the Four and give Nick Scratch corporeal form [09:47 PM] Wack'd: This for some reason involves generating a massive force field, gradually pushing all the people of Manhattan back as it encompasses the city [09:48 PM] Wack'd: Spider-Man, the Avengers, and the Defenders all try to break through, but fail [09:49 PM] Wack'd: Only Agatha and Franklin can break through--after all, Agatha's more powerful than her son. (The comic takes this as a given, despite Franklin's existence. Maybe it's a magic thing) [09:49 PM] maxwellelvis: It's gotta be the combined power of the entire Salem Seven that's locked Dr. Strange and Silver Surfer out of the bubble. [09:50 PM] maxwellelvis: Fewer than that and either of them could have broken through no prob, assuming that's the Defenders line-up we're talking about [09:50 PM] maxwellelvis: the Dr. Strange, Silver Surfer, Hulk, and Namor team [09:50 PM] Wack'd: It's not. [09:50 PM] maxwellelvis: Oh [09:51 PM] Wack'd: There's whoever the fuck this is

[09:52 PM] maxwellelvis: I know that guy but I can't remember his name. [09:52 PM] maxwellelvis: Oh, it says right there, Nighthawk [09:52 PM] Wack'd: So forgettable I forgot his name moments after reading it [09:53 PM] Wack'd: Anyway, the Salem Seven's spells are easily deflected. So are the ghostly Nick's attempts to stop her with hail, fire, and lightning [09:53 PM] Bocaj: Nighthawk: strong as two strong guys at night. Owns a jetpack. Is Batman but Somehow Worse. [09:54 PM] Wack'd:

Nick: Why won't you die, blast you?! Agatha: Because I am your mother, Nicholas.

[09:54 PM] Bocaj: Hah [09:54 PM] Mousa The 14: Damn [09:55 PM] Mousa The 14: Someone call the cops, I’d like to report a familicide [09:55 PM] Umbramatic: ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh [09:55 PM] Mousa The 14: This woman completely obliterated her son [09:55 PM] maxwellelvis: Oh snap [09:55 PM] Mousa The 14: Yes he deserved it, just figured you’d all wanna know [09:55 PM] Wack'd: Agatha and Franklin make their way into the Baxter Building where a brainwashed Fantastic Four are waiting. [09:56 PM] Wack'd: Franklin 🥺

[09:57 PM] Mousa The 14: This is legitimately genuinely terrifying [09:57 PM] Mousa The 14: Like, jesus christ that's horrifying [09:57 PM] Umbramatic: y i p e [09:57 PM] Mousa The 14: Like this big friendly ol' teddy bear unle Ben Grimm crushing a child to death [09:57 PM] maxwellelvis: "Thank you, Nicholas Scratch, I feel much better now" [09:57 PM] Mousa The 14: has to be one of the most horryfing ideas in my mind right now [09:58 PM] Wack'd: Fortunately, Franklin manages to break their mind control with the power of love. Also being a god [09:58 PM] Umbramatic: Jesus Christ, how horrifying! [09:58 PM] Bocaj: Unleash your annihilation of love [09:59 PM] Wack'd: And Agatha sets right what has once gone wrong

[10:01 PM] Wack'd: And so the story ends with...Ben complaining there's no reward? I guess?

[10:02 PM] Wack'd: Probably should've ended on a more Franklin centered note [10:02 PM] Wack'd: But overall I like this one a lot [10:02 PM] maxwellelvis: Agatha erased the cat poster from his memory, I assume [10:02 PM] Mousa The 14: I can’t believe we let this woman fall into lost history, she should be in every F4 adaptation [10:03 PM] Wack'd: She's great, yeah

#1980 #Marv Wolfman #George Pérez #The Main Book

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sweet-lil-psycho · 5 years

Text

You can hear me? - Post-death Kyle - AHS Coven - (1)

Dedicated to @slightlyvicked for her amazing contributions

Summary: The newest guest of Miss Robichaux's Academy is a powerful witch, but on of her powers is something Kyle had only dreamed of.

Word Count: 2891

(Authors Note: I know I said this would be up tomorrow, but I got super excited and ended up finishing the whole thing today. I really loved writing it and added a number to the title in case anyone wants me to write more and turn this into a series.)

You walked through the front gate of Miss Robichaux's Academy for Exceptional Young Ladies and immediately knew someone was watching you. It was a primal skill that most witches had forgotten or discarded over the centuries, but you had learned to harness it just as the old witches did. The person, you could already tell, did not match you in magical skill and posed absolutely no threat, so you happily ignored it. Why wouldn’t you? You were a lioness and they were... a bunny rabbit, yes, that seemed about right.

Your suitcase dragged close behind you up the walkway, propelled wholly by magic. As you stepped up to the front doors, they opened for you. Clearly the house knew better than to make you wait. They parted widely and once you, and your suitcase had stepped over the threshold, shut softly behind you.

There was a thing about thresholds that most witches didn’t know. They keep track of all the magical beings who pass through them. It was as if you had been presented with a registry of all the witches in the house the moment you walked in. Not by name, of course, but a display of the skill level and aura of each magical being which you would easily be able to pair with the witches of the house upon meeting them.

Nothing special, you noted with a small smirk, perhaps Miss Robichaux's Academy’s young ladies were not as exceptional as they thought they were.

You didn’t bother calling out your arrival, the witches of the house were expecting you... or at least the ones who mattered were. Instead, you were fast at finding your way to their library of magical texts, curious to see what books they had acquired since your last visit.

Despite all your attention being in the yellowed pages of The Witches Guide To Advanced Spellwork; Volume 4, which you were finding quite amusing, the intended entrance of a familiar witch did not slip your witchy senses. She must have been about to cross the archway of the room when you spoke

“Cordelia! What a pleasure!” You said with a large smile, only now looking up from the dusty and quite trivial tome.

“Y/N, what an absolute honor and pleasure it is to have you with us at Miss Robichaux’s.” Cordelia greeted you warmly

“I couldn’t possibly pass through New Orleans without dropping by.” You told her as you opened your arms for a hug

You and Cordelia went way back. Well...as way back as a 19 year old could go with someone. You’d briefly met and studied with her mother, the Supreme Witch, Fiona Goode, before deciding your studying efforts were best spent elsewhere. A decision which lead you far from American soil and on a long string of adventures. In the time you had known each other, you had been quite close.

“Well, we are delighted to have you stay as long as you would like.” She assured you “I’ll send Spalding to carry your bags and show you to your room.”

“No need,” you said simply “I’m quite capable.”

The bag followed you as you began to walk out of the room. Cordelia followed and watched the bag in amazement. You’d definitely learnt a few new tricks since your last meeting. As you ascended the stairs, the suitcase began to float over the steps and you could just barely hear the small laugh Cordelia gave.

You vaguely recalled the layout from your previous visit, which was enough to allow you to find the room with ‘Visitor Quarters. Not for student entry’ on the door. You couldn’t contain a laugh as you touched the doorknob and surveyed the room with your witch senses.

Predictably, the students were huddled on the bed and floor discussing some nonsense speculations about your arrival. The movement of the doorknob was enough to hear them loudly scramble and whisper ‘hide’ to one another. Generously...or perhaps cruelly, you allowed them enough time to conceal themselves before opening the door.

The room was the grandest in the house, complete with a crystal chandelier and golden velvet curtains, which seemed unnaturally lumpy with outlines of very tactless witches. The lights in the room were out and you wondered how much more obvious the hiding of the students would be once you illuminated the room.

“It’s so dark, should I open the curtains?” You wondered aloud, which was met with an audible ‘shit!’ from the direction of the lumpy fabric.

“No need” You added, snapping your fingers and watching every candle in the room light.

You could tell they were watching. Eyes boring into your skin with the telltale spark which let you know they were witches. If they want to watch, give them a show, you thought.

The suitcase threw itself onto the bed and began unclipping and unzipping. You started pulling out all your packed goods from inside the small, black suitcase. Your clothes for a start, which soared out of the bag, unfolded, and began hanging themselves in the closet, the door of which was flung open. You didn’t need to look to see the absolute fright which flashed on the face of the student who had chosen to hide in there. It made you smile, but still you played oblivious.

Next, you hoisted out the high candelabra out of the bag and allowed it to settle in the darkest corner of the room, adding to the glow of torches. Then came your armchair, which squeezed it’s way out and scuttled across the floor to a lovely spot in front of the fireplace.

“What the hell is this?” you heard a voice whisper from the curtains, promptly followed by “shh!”

Then your trunk, your vanity table, the tall, pedestal birdcage which housed your raven, Corvis, some trinkets and rarities from your travels, a large mirror with pitch black glass, and finally your cat, jumping out from the still half-full suitcase and stretching out her black body after the nap you surely woke her from.

Once she finished, she meowed loudly and walked in circles, indicating there were people about.

“Oh I know Salem, they’ll come out when they’re good and ready” You told the cat, who then decided to curl up in the center of the bed.

“Is she talking about us?” A voice whispered, “Shh!”

"You really should come out, you know. You girls are really making fools of yourselves.” You announced

They all came out and you laughed to yourself, they thought they could hide from you. The young witches were similar ages, but had no where near the experience or magical level that you possessed. Finally you were able to place each magical identity the threshold had given you to it’s owner.

“You should have warned us, Nan!” One of the girls huffed

“Warn you of what? Her mind is blank.” Nan replied

“Not blank, simply unavailable to the likes of you. I’m not too fond of little witchlings prying through my thoughts” You interrupted

“This is all your fault, Madison, I told you we shouldn’t be in here! We’re going to get in so much trouble!” One of the girls snapped at another

“Shut up, Queenie!” Madison snapped back

“Surprise! Welcome to Miss Robichaux's Academy” Nan said with an innocent smile

“She’s not an idiot, Nan. What’s wrong with you?” Madison said viciously

“Hey! Don’t talk to Nan like that!” Another girl defended

“You shut too, Zoe!” Madison added

“Don’t tell me to shut up, you shut up!”

“Yeah Madison, why don’t you shut your mouth for once!”

“This is all your fault anyway, Madison.”

“Yeah, she’s right”

“Shut up, Nan”

“Shut up Madison!”

“Yeah, shut up Madison!”

“All of you shut up!” You raised your voice and it echoed around the room

All the girls went quiet, not by choice, but because their voices had left them entirely. This seemed to enrage them more and they started mouthing louder at each other in an attempt to continue their argument.

“Now when you’re all done blubbering like fish, let’s get a few things straight.” You said and watched them quiet down, realizing they weren’t going to get their way by fighting each other soundlessly

“First of all, this is the last time any of you come into my chamber uninvited. Secondly, Cordelia will be hearing none of this from me so long as you little witchlings show me a bit more respect from now on. Third, no more bickering...it is unpleasant and frankly, very unbecoming of all of you. And finally, any more of this kind of nonsense and you will regret the day you ever met me. Am I clear?”

Madison noiselessly muttered some snarky comment which made Nan break out into a grin

You flicked your wrist and Madison’s eyes widened as her hair was violently tugged backwards.

“Am I clear?” You asked again, waving your hand over them so they could speak once more

“Crystal clear.” They all said in a dreary unison, probably habit from Cordelia asking them the same question so many times

“Right then. If that’s everything” You said and the door swung open behind you, inviting them to leave

“You can come out now Kyle, she caught us.” Zoe called out and a final figure emerged, this time from under the bed.

How could you have missed this?...Hang on, he’s not magical...or human..., you were puzzled, which was rare, especially when it came to magic.

“Kyle?” You said, feeling the name in your mouth curiously

He didn’t speak as he went to stand behind Zoe. He was tall and muscular looking, almost the frat-boy type if it wasn’t for his vacant expression and strange, detached way about him.

“Kyle” You said again, softer this time as you tried to understand what he was and how you hadn’t detected him

“Yes, I’m Kyle”, a voice wrung inside your head clearly, your telepathic abilities picking up on his response

It’s nice to meet you Kyle, you sent the message telepathically, wondering if he could hear it. You’d never met anyone like this before and had no idea what his capabilities were.

The girls had begun to file out of the room, but Kyle stood in place, his dark eyes locked with yours, thinking.

“Come on Kyle” Zoe called him

He didn’t move and you stepped closer to him without acknowledging her, waiting for a response

“Who are you?” he asked, he sounded almost scared

I’m Y/N, I’m not going to hurt you, you transferred the message into his mind.

“How can you hear me? No one can ever hear me.”

“Kyle, come on!” Zoe called him once again, this time tugging at his arm

“No.” He said, still not looking away from me

“What are you doing to him?” Zoe demanded, moving away from Kyle and coming up to me

“No!” Kyle shouted more urgently, stepping forward to pull Zoe back, but you beat him to it and flung her back with a magical force which sent her stumbling to the ground

“What the hell!” Madison exclaimed after watching her fellow witch get tossed aside. She walked back into the room and heading towards Kyle, no doubt to try and drag him out. “Come on, Kyle. We’re leaving!”

“No! No! No!” He shouted

“That’s quite enough” You groaned tiresomely, growing more and more irritated by these little witches.

With a sweeping gesture of your hand, the girls were thrust out of the doorway and the door closed loudly after them. The lock on the door slid over and fastened into place, preventing them from reentering, though they still tried.

Kyle still seemed agitated and you put your hands up gently to calm him

Everything is alright, Kyle. They’re gone now, they’re not going to make you leave before you want to

“I didn’t mean to yell, I really didn’t” his voice came softly “I just get so angry some times that I can’t stop what happens.”

It was like his consciousness was trapped in a body which couldn’t contain it. His emotions were unable to regulate themselves as they traveled from his mind to his actions. His mind seemed perfectly intact and developed, it was almost as if the connection between his mind and body was damaged in some way.

It’s okay Kyle. Why don’t we sit down?, you suggested, sitting on the bed where Salem watched curiously

“Sure, why not.” he came and sat on the bed, his eyes finally leaving mine in order to look at Salem

“Salem, this is Kyle, he’s a friend.” You told the cat

Salem immediately let her guard down and she rolled on her back, displaying her stomach for belly rubs

“I like cats. A big tabby named Monty used to live on our street, he was such a fat cat, always rummaging through people’s bins for scraps.” He smiled at the memory and began to pat Salem

“Why can’t the others talk to me like this?” he looked up for a moment, there was so much sadness in his eyes

I’m a very powerful witch. I’ve studied my whole life and learned from the best teachers all over the world. Telepathy is a tricky skill on it’s own to master, but for some reason it’s more complicated with you. Usually there’s just a locked door leading right into someone’s consciousness, but with you, it’s like there’s a labyrinth. It was true, his whole consciousness was locked away by this elaborate protection. The more you learned about Kyle, the more interested you became.

“Oh...How long are you staying?” His voice held a tone of worry at the thought of you leaving. You knew you would be the same if the only person who could truly talk to you was only passing through on their own travels.

I haven’t decided yet, Kyle. I didn’t think I’d meet someone as interesting as you, you told him and he smiled in such an effortlessly charming way that you had to stop yourself from swooning.

He was cute, to say the least, and in the moment where his more human side came out, he made your heart pound so loud you were surprised he couldn’t hear it.

Kyle moved his arm to further pet Salem and you noticed a severe looking scar on his neck.

What’s happened there? you pointed at the mark

He instantly moved to hide it, pulling the neck of his t-shirt higher, which only loosened it and made the mark more visible.

“It’s nothing. Nothing at all, really.” he replied quickly

Kyle please, is it a scar? Let me take a look? you asked him telepathically and he didn’t answer

“Please, Kyle. I’m not going to hurt you or anything. I just want to see.” You said aloud

Hesitantly, Kyle moved his hands away from his neck and allowed you access to the deep scar-tissue. It looked incredibly painful, but when you touched it gingerly, he didn’t flinch. Upon closer inspection, the mark went entirely around his neck and you gasped.

He immediately pulled away and tried once again to cover it up.

It’s okay Kyle, really. I just...it looks like it hurt a lot, you said, suddenly teary for some reason.

Kyle noticed the sudden redness of your eyes and stopped pulling away.

“It didn’t really. I hardly felt it.” He told you.

You wondered how that could be for a second and then the answer hit you hard. A lot about Kyle rapidly began to make sense and you realized why Kyle was so unlike anything you had come across before.

May I? you asked him, holding your hand up to touch the scar once more.

He moved himself closer to give you better access to the wound, silently complying with your ask.

Once again you placed your hand on the scar, this time channeling it with a skill you had learned in small town Romania.

“arătați-mi” you whispered

Your eyes glossed over with a pale film of white and you began to see Kyle’s life unfold before your eyes. The good, the bad, and the just plain tragic.

It was blurry, but as you came closer to the events which led to the scarring, it became clear. You saw his time at Kappa Lambda Gamma, the party, Zoe, Madison, the party bus, Madison and Zoe’s sloppy, infantile attempts at a complex post-mortem revival spell, Kyle’s struggles with his new life.

“Oh my gods above and forgotten... what in the name of Hecate. Someone had better slap those girls from Venus to Neptune.” You whispered to yourself “I am so sorry this happened to you, Kyle.”

You cupped his face in your hands and rested your forehead against his. He stiffened for a moment and then relaxed, putting his hands on your waist so gently, as if he were afraid of hurting you.

“You don’t...hate me, do you?” he asked after a few seconds of silence

Hate you? Kyle, why would I...how could you think I would hate you?, you were baffled by it, he’d been put through so much and he thought you would...hate him for it?

“Fiona always says I’m disgusting and unnatural. I’m like Frankenstein's monster.” He told you

“First of all, Fiona’s a bitch. Second, I always did like Frankenstein.” you said aloud, placing a soft kiss on his cheek.

#kyle spencer #kyle spence x reader #kyle spencer oneshot #ahs oneshot #american horror story #american horror story coven #kyle oneshot #evan peters #american horror story oneshot #post death kyle

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devinfm · 4 years

Text

hey there, demons! *ba tum tss* i’m sam and i also write parker ( @prkrfm ) which is the best place to contact me for plotting!

i. stats

𝔣𝔲𝔩𝔩 𝔫𝔞𝔪𝔢: jackson willard devin

𝔭𝔯𝔢𝔣𝔢𝔯𝔯𝔢𝔡 𝔫𝔞𝔪𝔢𝔰: jack, spooky guy, the night watchman

𝔥𝔬𝔪𝔢𝔱𝔬𝔴𝔫: salem, massachusetts

𝔡𝔞𝔱𝔢 𝔬𝔣 𝔟𝔦𝔯𝔱𝔥: ocotber 31st, 1995

𝔷𝔬𝔡𝔦𝔞𝔠: scorpio

𝔬𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔫𝔱𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫: demisexual

𝔬𝔠𝔠𝔲𝔭𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫: host of the graveyard shift, a radio program airing every weeknight from 12am to 5am

𝔭𝔬𝔰. 𝔱𝔯𝔞𝔦𝔱𝔰: captivating, witty, resolute.

𝔫𝔢𝔤. 𝔱𝔯𝔞𝔦𝔱𝔰: impulsive, gauche, naive.

ii. history

the graveyard shift is a radio program that airs every weeknight from 12am - 5am in the los angeles area and on apps such as iheartradio. jack hosts the show as his ( thinly veiled ) alter ego the night watchman and discusses topics such as the paranormal, conspiracy theories, and all things horror. it’s one of the most popular programs of the time slot in the country.

iii. extras

huge stoner. high as fuck 90% of the time, and the other 10% of the time he’s probably still high, just not as fuck.

HOWEVER, he did start the area 51 meme from last summer. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

BIG CHAOTIC ENERGY and ZERO IMPULSE CONTROL

a chatterbox with friends but don’t be fooled…he’s been giving his own dad the silent treatment for almost seven ( 7 ) years now. it’s his preferred method of expressing anger towards someone because he isn’t really a fan of confrontation, but he’s maybe a liiiittle bit stubborn.

he has a pet pied ball python named the crypt keeper ( tkc for short ) who he sometimes just carries with him because he likes to just chill wrapped around jack’s hand and arm.

iv. wanted connections

maternal or paternal cousins ( their grandparents probably live in boston or new england but otherwise anything goes for this )

close friends

friends

guests on his radio show

fans / haters of his radio show

people who don’t like him / find him annoying

exes ( 1 - 2, can be on good or bad terms )

“casually dating” but it might get real complicated soon - allie james

( these are just ideas and i’m trash at coming up with stuff, so please don’t feel limited by what’s listed here. )

#excess:intro #just posting for reference!

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quality-street-rat · 5 years

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The Clown!

How Clowns Have Become Scary

Matthew Burgess

Part One

Clowns, jesters, fools, and other such figures have existed since the days of ancient Egypt. Rome had figures known as Stupidus, and fifth-dynasty Egypt had pygmy clowns. Through the centuries, all clowns had and have one powerful connection; that of misrule, excess, and the unpredictable. They mimic and ridicule, they riddle and tease. They perform over-the-top, crazy antics. They cause mayhem and enjoy it, usurping law and order with unhinged slapstick. However, clowns are just one historical monster that can bring terror to people. Studying monsters brings understanding of the past and the present and shows a great deal of human nature.

Part Two

The word monster has roots in Latin, and the root words mean to warn. Stone Age humans had monsters of their own, and massive biblical monsters haunted other early humans. The idea of the Devil breaks off into other concepts such as demonic possession, witches, and the Antichrist. Jeffery Jerome Cohen posits that “The Monster Always Escapes.” What he means by this is that no monster is ever really killed or gotten rid of. The death or disappearance of one monster either makes room for a new one or provides an opportunity for the original monster to return with a new face. However, every time the monster returns, its meaning will change based on what is happening in society at that time. No monster ever really dies.

A monster might be new to some people. For example, if Pennywise the Clown only appears every twenty-seven years, then he is new to the people who are children when he comes back. If an urban legend is forgotten because it is no longer relevant, then when the situation is the same in the future, the urban legend will re-surface. As Poole says in Monsters in America, (page 22) “History is horror.” This also refers to the situation out of which a monster is born. Before the Salem Witch Trials, people were less concerned with piety. Some social switch flipped, and suddenly everyone was obsessed with finding the evil and unworthy in their society.

There are several other theories that help understand monsters through history and are key concepts that aid in studying them. A few that stand out are integral to monster culture. The monster is never just what it appears to be. It is a representation of some fear or desire that people experience. The monster defies classification, which also means that they clash with the concept of binaries and logic. Monsters in general are made of things that are distinctly “other,” or outliers to the idea of “normal.” They invite the removal of moral dimensions and make excuses for eradication of the “other.” Monsters are warnings, are representations of both fear and desire, are harbingers of the transitional future. These all tell the story of history and, more specifically, American history. Poole says “The American past...is a haunted house. Ghosts rattle their chains throughout its corridors, under its furniture, and in its small attic places. The historian must resurrect monsters in order to pull history’s victims out of...’the mud of oblivion.’ The historian’s task is necromancy, and it gives us nightmares.” (Monsters in America, Page 24)

Part 3

When my mother was eleven years old, her parents sat her down to watch the original IT movie. She tells me that she had nightmares and trouble sleeping for at least a month afterwards. When I was growing up, clowns were not mentioned. My siblings and I knew that clowns existed because there was a friendly clown named Pooky that we saw once a year at my father’s annual work party. Until I was twelve or thirteen Pooky was the only reference for the word “clown” that I had. After that, I started learning world history and learned about clowns in the context of circuses. To me they were silly people who wore polka dots and colorful wigs, and who painted their faces with the intention to entertain. The concept of the scary clown wasn’t even a shred of an idea to me until later.

When I was fifteen I started going to school for the first time. I suddenly had access to the internet and began absorbing every piece of pop culture that I could possibly handle. The trailers for the new IT movie were just starting to come out, and people were reporting scary clown sightings all over the country. I personally was not then and am not now scared of clowns. However, I could see that people were terrified of them and that fascinated me. I was more interested in the intentions of the people behind the masks than the unexpected presence of them. Fast forward to 2018, and I started watching American Horror Story. Seasons four and six heavily featured clowns as something scary. There was Twisty the Clown with his terrifying blown off mouth and tendency to kidnap children and attempt to entertain them, and there was the cult who wore clown masks and intimidated Sarah Paulson’s character. The cult was more effective than not because of the character’s coulrophobia, or fear of clowns. 1 Around the same time I watched the movie Suicide Squad, and became similarly fascinated with the character of the Joker. I started doing research and found that Jared Leto’s Joker was not the first one. There was a theory that proposed that there were three different Jokers, regardless of actor or illustrator. One, the thief and killer. Two, the silly one who had no real reason to perform any of his evil deeds, known as the “Clown Prince of Crime.” Third, the homicidal maniac.

As I’ve said, I am not afraid of clowns. But the reason why people are afraid of them enthrall me. Firstly, clowns are allowed to say things that the rest of us can’t. They dress up their words as jokes, but they can say the most shocking and inappropriate things. They can challenge those in power with no consequences. Second, humans inherit fear. Studies done in Georgia and Canada show that fear of a thing can be passed down through a family line. For example, if a parent was mauled by a tiger, and then had a child and disappeared, the child would be frightened if they saw a tiger. Also, the face paint of a clown elicits the same response as the uncanny valley. Clowns were first thought to be scary in the late 1940’s and 1950’s. Clowns worked very closely with children. Adults began to get paranoid about these clowns, grown men, abusing their children. Maybe some were, but the majority merely wanted to make the children laugh and smile. The adults started to tell their children to avoid the clowns. Later in the 80’s, slasher films were on the rise. Moviemakers were making anything into killers. Audrey the plant, cute little gremlins, worms, blobs, and clowns. Stephen King’s IT was written and released during this time. Since then, many scary clowns have existed. The Joker, Harley Quinn the Harlequin, Pennywise, Twisty, the Jigsaw puppet, the Terrifier. These all serve as a cultural lens to help explain social changes.

Part 4

The monster of the clown resonates with me because the idea of the scary clown is so wide-spread and can now be passed off as an “everyone knows that” statement. The why fascinates me. Clowns represent the both the fear of truth and the fear of lies. Clowns can say the unsayable and topple those in power with the truth. On the other hand, their fixed grins and otherwise blank faces are the embodiment of a lie, because you can’t tell who they are behind the mask.

From the earliest days of human history, there was some form of a clown. The clowns always had something to represent, and they always came back. To look at another point of view, most clowns were simple entertainers turned into frighteners by people who wanted to dispose of them. However, the clowns that were actually scary (Pennywise, Jigsaw, etc.) were warnings of what might happen if you mess with the truth. Pennywise changes form; he is the embodiment of lies. Jigsaw is transparent about his intentions; he is the cold, hard, bitter truth.

The sometimes-maudlin behavior of clowns invites sympathy. It suggests that maybe they are simply misunderstood, that maybe they deserve to be loved. However, they always snap back with something unexpected. It is a general consensus in the monster-f**ker community that clown-f**kers are the lowest of the low. However, if I may loosely quote one of my online followers on the subject: “...Sir Pennywise is a shnack.” Unfortunately, the spelling is a direct quote. I cannot pretend to know why people are attracted to clowns, Pennywise especially, but they are and there’s unfortunately nothing to be done about it.

Putting aside peoples’ attraction to clowns, to close this thought I’d like to quote Derek Kilmer in saying “the stories we tell say something about us.” Clowns may not be everyone’s fear. However, the culture we as people created also created clowns and the fear of them.

Part 5

Studying monsters can be a useful endeavor. History of America is the history of monsters. Therefore, if you study monsters, you study America. From the dehumanization of Native Americans by the Pilgrims to the fascination with aliens today, monsters have shaped America and been shaped by American society. This theory is called Reciprocal Determination. Instead of one thing causing another, two things cause each other. America’s society has been shaped by witches, by vampires, by zombies, by clowns. And society has, in return, created the monsters it claims to hate so much. People care about monsters. We created them, as they create us.

Clowns represent America’s relationship with truth. Depending on the kind of clown and when it appears, we can determine how Americans deal with lies. Early in the century, clowns were more jovial and friendly. People were complacent with letting bad things get swept under the rug. Harsh truths and cruel facts were ignored and glossed over. Abused spouses and homosexual relationships along with literal genocide and corrupt leadership had people looking the other way, because they were more concerned with image than anything else. But as time went on, people became less concerned with image and more concerned with truth. There are of course those who still value image over truth, but they are the minority. Corrupt leaders cannot hide anymore. LGBT+ folk can finally openly live their truth. Abuse is not tolerated. But at the same time, the clowns are getting scarier. Some people might say that this is simply correlation and not causation, and that is also a valid view, but I believe that it is, without a doubt, causation.

Monsters teach us not only our history, but who we are. They tell us the truth behind our lies. They challenge the master narrative and demonstrate impermanent borders between morality, truth, fear, and desire.

Footnotes

1 This phobia was also featured in the long-running show Supernatural, however in that show it’s played for humor.

#clowns #essay #monster paper #history

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agameofsouls · 6 years

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backstory // jackson + lyra

so, jackson and lyra are ocs that i created for a group rp that i used to run a year or so back. the history and lore was really really deep, and i actually spent months writing it and tying little pieces together to make a blend of rural folk village / supernatural monsters / scifi horror whatever that made me really happy to think about and plan out.

i actually had an entire notebook filled with different arcs and conflicts i wanted the group to work through, including a huntress, a dragon, blood spells, etc. unfortunately, we only got about half way through the huntress before things died out due to busy personal lives, and what have you.

this is just a small directory and explanation to certain parts of that world that are integral to the development of jackson and lyra as characters, and things that they have experienced from their old home, as well as links to posts from the group page with even more stories and information.

mostly, this is for my benefit so i can sort of feel better referencing their backstories knowing that this exists for anyone to read that’s interested.

also, i just really want my old favorite stories to see the light of day again. nightmare was honestly so important to me as a writer, lmao.

NOTE. this is a long post!

the town itself

Nightmare has been around for two hundred and forty horrific years. It was originally created by the legendary group called The Eleven, which consisted of: Five witches, two vampires, three werewolves, one necromancer, and several children belonging to most of the members.

The story is that left their homes in Salem, followed by groups of hunters, and traveled all the way down to Tennessee before disappearing into the Smoky Mountains, losing their would-be killers forever. It took them a while and a lot of settling down and uprooting before finally deciding on a permanent home, but they did it, and here we are: hidden, secret, and safe. ( more here )

essentially, the town is self sufficient, isolated in deep within the smoky mountains. there are several sister towns spread across the us, typically either in more wooded areas, or deep within the rarely traveled plains of the midwest, or the deserts of the mojave.

they are connected by ‘trails’ that are only traveled by those in the know, and nomads travel from town to town with goods to trade on a regular basis, and often bring newcomers with them that they found along the way.

the government system is fairly simplistic as well -- each species that resides in nightmare has one representative, whether because they were elected or are the only one of their kind, that sits on a council.

the power is usually passed through the family of the current council member, and doesn’t often switch hands unless something drastic happens. in the case that there are no familial relations of the current council member available, they will select another member of their species as their ‘heir.’

lyra + jackson

in this world, lyra lived a very carefree life. she was a bit of a criminal, and would often get into trouble on purpose just to have the sheriff of the town, tris, arrest her. she developed a crush on him, and they eventually started seeing each other, much to the dismay of lyra’s mother. she hated that tris was older than lyra, as well as a shape shifter. she thought he was dangerous, but lyra wouldn’t hear a bad word against him.

she also had a best friend, a witch named antonia, who she would drag into all sorts of trouble with her. the two were inseparable, except for when the law man came around. lyra never let toni go down with her, and always took the heat. freya always forgave lyra for any wrongdoing she did, and was the kind of mom that instead got upset with the guards rather than her own daughter for her ever growing criminal record.

on the other hand, jackson lived quietly. even in a place like nightmare, necromancers were still feared. their power was different than that of any of the witches, and it was mysterious. it made other people uneasy, and they didn’t have a lot of trust for young or new necromancers like him.

so he typically stayed home, tending to his plants and decorating his house to look like an hgtv model home. he also sold his fruits and veggies in the town center at his little produce stall, and made some extra cash that way. it was a far cry from his previous life, but he liked it.

he made friends slowly, and eventually befriended lyra. the two, along with toni, became close friends and would often spend time in jackson’s home having tea and snacks during the day, and going to parties at night. toni, while she spent her time with jackson and lyra often, still had a slight distrust of jackson, and would often make excuses to not join them on ventures. this left a lot of time for him and lyra to be alone and bond, and he quickly became her second most trusted friend in town.

when shit hit the fan and it was time to leave, they went together, trying to make sense of all the shit they had been through. after everything, they are inseparable, and would probably die for each other. there are very few friends as close as them, and they depend on each other to survive in the outside world.

the problem

For some reason or another, though, our population has started falling, and not because our citizens are leaving, either. Something’s been coming around when we don’t know it and making people drop dead left and right, whether it’s from a sickness or people being outright murdered, we don’t know.

The recent deaths are causing some tensions between groups and have cause productivity to dwindle as well. Some parents won’t send their kids down to the school and community events have begun to see a decrease in attendance as well. The Council is working on finding the source of the problem and a solution, but with even the Elders finding it difficult to work together, some people are afraid that this is the end of Nightmare.

so, basically, there was a sickness spreading, but it was only affecting certain groups, such as the witches and sirens, specifically. it had slowly started to spread to other species as well, enough that a true ‘pattern’ hadn’t been picked up just yet. no one could figure out how it spread, and no one could figure out a cure or a source for it.

there was no magic that could stop it, no potion that could slow it. it seemed to suddenly hit a person, and within a matter of hours to days, they were dead.

what the townspeople didn’t know was that the sickness was entirely created in a lab. freya, the alpha of the werewolf pack and current holder of the werewolf council seat, had been contacted by a mysterious organization from the outside world regarding a research project into special beings.

the organization wanted to study the dna of supernatural beings, to see what made it different from humans, and if it was possible to cure, or if it was possible to weaponize and turn regular humans into these creatures.

they wanted to see if they could modify regular human dna to pass it on like any regular trait and have it manifest in their children, thus manufacturing witches, werewolves, or even hybrids of any of these species. it was a long shot by far, but they were willing to pay for any help.

for a while, she helped the organization by gathering dna samples and sending it off to a drop point. it was harmless. they compensated her well, and she was able to provide the town with wealth and new things that they never had before. but then, operations at the organization switched hands to someone with a little more darker intentions.

this new head had led the scientists in the direction of extermination -- treat the genetic markers like a virus, create a serum that destroys it, kill the monsters, ensure the survival of pure humans. now, this worried freya, and she pulled out almost immediately, until the head made a deal with her -- provide the dna of the creatures you don’t like and we’ll stick with them. your kind will be safe.

she quickly bought into this, and brought her brother in on the situation, and continued to provide dna from witches, shape shifters, and sirens alike, always avoiding her kind. the organization gave her a satellite phone, as described in this post, and she began to poison the town slowly through the well systems.

the huntress

in the midst of all the chaos and fear caused by the sickness in town, something perhaps worse came to nightmare via an old legend called the huntress, fully explained here.

Legend tells of an ancient hunter made immortal and unstoppable by a group of religious witches to destroy the races of monsters. Their chosen Huntress was taken from her life of poverty and misery and used in a forbidden ritual dedicated to the dark gods. During this ritual, half of her soul was ripped from her body and placed in a token of the Huntress, for safe keeping. The gods replaced the missing piece of her mortal soul with pieces of their own, effectively making her one of them, therefore making it impossible for her to die by normal means.

the story ends with the huntress being trapped in a chest, passed down by the bloodlines of the original witches that created and later imprisoned her. a ritual was to be performed during a full moon every century, but that instruction eventually fell to myth and then became hardly a memory, and the whereabouts of the chest were eventually forgotten.

it turns out, like a lot of things do in this town, that the chest ended up in the attic of the council building, just waiting for a little something like the hunter’s moon to come out and let the huntress out to play.

That moment finally came as the moon reached the highest point in the night sky, casting moonbeams through the trees and onto the buildings in town. One in particular hit the attic window of the Council Hall, illuminating the small, dusty area. It rested on the wooden panels of a particularly dusty and battered looking chest that hadn’t been touched since the Founders chucked it into the attic – which was the last time the chest had been touched.

Just minutes after the light of the moon touched the chest, it began to rumble, softly at first, and then violently. The rumbling then spread to the attic itself and then to the building, making ceiling tiles fall and the wood flooring and walls crack. A dark smoke, moving almost like liquid, began to seep from the seams of the chest and surround it, hissing whenever it came into contact with the wood. Finally, the rumbling stopped, the smoke disappeared, and all was silent.

BANG

It sounded as if several canons had gone off in unison, temporarily deafening anyone in the vicinity of the Council Hall. As the sound went off, a burst of magic exploded from the chest, sending wood pieces flying through the attic and either becoming lodged in the walls or blowing holes right through them like a shotgun blast. The burst of magic flew through the entire town, knocking every living being off of their feet and also knocked the wind right from their lungs. Several light bulbs blew out with the blast and windows shattered, and some people even dropped dead, causing more terror and panic than the initial magic had caused itself.

the rest of the huntress returning to this world can be read here!

after her return, one of the ghosts alerted the town to an ongoing crisis by ringing the bells and causing an even bigger alarm than her arrival did. that can be read here, and so can the official death count from the morning after.

this arc was never finished. i like to think that the town eventually solved it, that they were able to find her token and destroy it. i imagine that it was crushed by either tris or toni. but it was in a climactic moment. fire raging around them, the huntress standing with an arrow ready. the hero drops the token, and crushes it beneath their boot.

with a scream, the huntress let a final arrow fly, killing the hero, just as the trapped piece of her mortal soul came flooding back into her, and forcing the immortal bits out with another flash bang of magic. it forces the huntress onto her knees, and another of the heroes, either lyra or jackson, was able to take the sword and kill the huntress with it.

in the end, a majority of the town was killed, and it was evident to most people that the population would never recover from what had happened between the huntress and the sickness. a few dozen people decided to stay and rebuild, having faith that things could ever go back to normal.

others left, whether to rejoin regular society, or to join the other sister towns for a while, it wasn’t specified. but this event essentially blew nightmare off of the supernatural haven map for a while.

it was from this that jackson and lyra decided to leave. they had witnessed so many friends and family members die, and they both wanted out of that life. lyra left behind her mother and her future as alpha of the pack. jackson left his home behind, and off they went.

#( character study ) lyra #( character study ) jackson #( headcanon ) lyra #( headcanon ) jackson

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vieuxnoyesrp · 6 years

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Original Character - Sample Application

⤜ Name/alias: Rose ⤜ Pronouns: She/her ⤜ Age: 25 aka cue the Quarter-Life-Crisis. ⤜ Timezone: UTC + 2:00 (aka Eastern European Time Zone) ⤜ Activity: I think it’s a solid 7. ⤜ Best form of contact: Cami’s Tumblr account. Lurker extraordinaire. I’m there even when I’m not. ⤜ Any Triggers? None that are permitted in this roleplay. ⤜ How did you find Vieux Noyés? Aaaaah funny story… ⤜ What drew you to the RP? … Getting the chance to create this world with the two best co-mods on the planet. ⤜ What is one subplot/element from the Plot page that you are particularly looking forward to seeing in this roleplay? One of my favourite plots from our Plot page is the one involving the Salem witches impinging on the territory that belongs to the New Orleans Coven. The latter might be down and out for the time being, but I don't think it'll stay that way for long and I'm very excited to see whether the witches of New Orleans can become a power to be reckoned with and rebuff Salem's intrusion.

⚜ Desired Character:

⤜ Name of Character: Quentin Herrera, né Adrian Flores.

⤜ FC? Bob Morley

⤜ Biography + Connections:

Adrian Flores Quentin Herrera ⚜ Werewolf ⚜ 26 ⚜ The Sentinel ⚜ ISTP

When I am silent …

He’s staring down the barrel of a gun, pupils dilated in disbelief. It’s not the first time he’s had a gun pointed at him, but it is the first where the intent is to kill.

- “You’re a loose end, Adrian. You know we can’t allow that. Maybe if you’d opened your eyes, been a little smarter…”

- “I won’t talk!! I swear! I won’t tell them anythin’!!”

- “So they all say. I’m sorry, Adrian.” There’s a click as the safety latch is flipped off the trigger, and in that moment, his adrenaline kicks into overdrive - But rather than fear, he feelsrage. Not at their callousness - that’s part and parcel with the job description - but at their greed. Hasn’t he given them enough? Repaid his father’s debts twice over, run competition out of business, extended the trade’s reach like tentacles throughout the city? He doesn’t sleep, he barely eats, he doesn’t dream, his good arm is broken in three places from ‘old lessons learned’ (because ‘don’t shoot the messenger’ is a lie they tell you when you’re young and dumb and still think you can quit)…

So when the gun goes off, anger is still coursing like a tidal wave through his system, blood pounding in his ears. Fear doesn’t come until later, when he’s on the run; fear comes with the realization that he’s killed a man. He doesn’t stop running for weeks, months - and though he changes his address and his name, he knows that death is a stain that cannot be washed off this new slate he’s grappling for. Which is why when every bone in his body breaks down one night only to be replaced by matted fur, claws and yellow eyes - Adrian figured he was paying for his godless crime. It wasn’t far from the truth; an explanation he only got months later when setting up camp in the Bayou of New Orleans.

{He was young; but he knew his own soul, it was precious to him, he guarded it as the eyelid guards the eye, and without the key of love he let no one into his soul.}

Werewolf… Because apparently his life wasn’t complicated enough. It’s yet another gory image to the dreams that have started up again as his insomnia gives way to a disturbed sleep. In his nightmares, he doesn’t know which is worse; when he pulls the trigger or when he doesn’t; blood paints his vision red either way and he wakes up drenched in cold sweat.

But Adrian - or rather Quentin, as he goes by these days - is trying to leave the past behind. If there’s one silver lining in this shitty story it’s the fact that neither the law nor the gang has caught up with him. At first he feared a trap; every street corner implied a surprise-attack, every siren’s wail was the police coming for him. But as the months crawled by, that tiny, deceptive flicker of hope lit up within him again. What if this really was his fresh start?… Maybe he could do it right this time. No drug-peddling, no mafia, and no blood money. He’s taken up a job as a bouncer for a local club,Ampersand, because it’s well aligned with the few talents he picked up while selling drugs; looking for signs of impending trouble, and muscling his way out of it. It’s not a job Quentin loves, but it pays the bills and even leaves a little bit left-over. It doesn’t amount to much once he’s finished paying for his mom’s antidepressants; but given that he has to stay away for her own safety, covering her medications seems to be the least he can do. Besides, if it wasn’t for the fact that the gang took her husband’s life and then reduced that of her son’s to shambles - she wouldn’t have needed them to begin with. But that’s one of the many thoughts he prefers to keep stashed away in a corner of his mind that he doesn’t mess with much. Because he’s gotta focus. Maybe one day he’ll manage to make something of himself and escape the shithole of a city that gave birth to him. Maybe then he’ll be able to get back in touch with his family and really get his mom the help she needs… It’s a dream that stands in stark contrast to the ones he sees at night, but he has to start somewhere, right?

… I have thunder inside of me.

Web of Connections

Lydia Martin: If escaping both the justice system and the criminal underworld was his first lucky strike, landing a job as Lydia Martin’s part-time bodyguard is certainly his second. It’s no thanks to the snarky redhead, of course, but instead to her mother, who insisted on upping security for the family while hosting public events. He doesn’t get why someone of Mrs. Martin’s status would insist on hiring ragtag no-namers like him instead of some quality muscle, but he isn’t about to question it. Besides, the job’s been easy enough so far, as long as he keeps his senses tuned to the world around him - while simultaneously pretending to be blind, deaf, and dumb where Lydia’s forked tongue and she-devil antics are concerned.

Jackson Kenner: ‘Trust’ isn’t a word Quentin throws around lightly; not after what he’s been through. But Jackson’s come closer to earning his than most. He’s answered all of his questions on being a werewolf; including the ones he never really voiced. And the man exudes a kind of raw honesty that’s hard to come by these days. He won’t admit it aloud, but the more time they spend together, the more he feels as though Jackson is the brother he never had. Quentin wants no part in a war - not after he’s waged one his entire life - but if push comes to shove he’d throw his lot in with Jackson. It’s the least he can do for the person who’s become his makeshift family in New Orleans.

Jenna Sommers: He first took note of the unassuming highschool teacher at the library, while getting frustrated over the paltry results of his research on lycanthropy. Miss Sommers was seated a few tables away, tutoring students in what he guessed was History. It wasn’t a topic that had interested him much in highschool; he’d barely scraped by with a C - much as most of his classes. But listening to the passion with which Miss Sommers explained the relevance of the Past, Quentin couldn’t help but wonder whether he’d been too quick to dismiss it. He’s run into Jenna a few times since then and even spoken to her once or twice. She is down-to-earth, and lacks the matronly air that had him avoiding teachers in his youth. He wants to ask her whether she’d ever be willing to tutor him, but he’s never summoned the courage to ask. Besides, what good would it do for a dumb kid like himself anyway?…

Isaac Lahey: Jackson was the one who first told him Isaac’s story; the witch ritual, the intention to sacrifice him for their own self-serving ends, the way the boy had killed the woman wielding the blade rather than lay his head down on the chopping block… There are just too many parallels between Isaac’s story and his own past in a gang. They’re both loners, by nature or by necessity; neither of them can afford the luxury of trust. Because of that - or maybe in spite of it - Quentin wants to help the skittish boy in the hopes of saving him many months of fear and the anxiety of having to shoulder the weight of his burden alone. But Isaac’s been persistently difficult to locate, let alone approach. Which is why when Quentin found out that he was relying on a witch for shelter and a roof over his head, he couldn’t understand it. What would ever compel him to trust a witch again after what he’d endured? Quentin suspects foul-play and intends to get to the bottom of it - even by sticking his nose into business that doesn’t concern him; a tendency he’s normally happy to avoid.

Katherine Pierce: Where stories of Isaac’s past have came to his attention, Quentin remains hopelessly in the dark where Katherine Pierce’s infamy is concerned. The brunette has been trying to cozy-up to him on the nights where he’s working at the club - and she doesn’t seem inclined to take ‘no’ for an answer. He doesn’t know what the hell she sees in him; it isn’t as though bouncers reek of class or wear a uniform. Besides; with her sensual build, sly good looks and come-hither personality, he bets she could snap up just about any guy - or girl. He can’t exactly shake Katherine on the job, but the more he finds himself smirking in response to one of her tongue-in-cheek remarks, the less Quentin finds he wants to rebuff her. Little does he know what those dark, laughing eyes have in store for him…

Plot Teasers:

Quentin’s tentative relief as he settles into his new life will be short-lived once his old debts catch up with him — from both sides of the law…

This lone wolf may soon discover that he isn’t so alone after-all, as familial ties reveal themselves in unexpected places…

On the soundtrack of his life: I’ll Be Good - Jaymes Young (x)

⤜ Personality Traits: (+) Honest, Hard-working, Unpretentious (-) Distrustful, Intolerant, Moody.

SPECIES, FACTION AND AFFILIATION INFORMATION:

⤜ What is your character’s species? Werewolf

⤜ If supernatural, what is their level of experience with their abilities? Triggered within the past year, not very experienced - packless, ie; omega.

⤜ Is your character affiliated with any of our factions? No.

⤜ Why do you want this character? A I’ve always been a fan of trying my hand at characters that are different from the ones I’ve played in the past. Quetin is pretty much Cami’s opposite in so, so many ways. Supernatural, distrustful, more of a lone wolf, not the best conversationalist, wary of everyone… Etc. I just want to see what kinds of trouble he can get up to in the Quarter.

⤜ What are your future plans for this character? I want to work on immersing Quentin into New Orleans and entangling him with the rest of the cast. It’s the last thing he wants to do; get involved, build connections - for all he knows, New Orleans is just a pit stop to his final destination. But that’s exactly why I want to have him forcibly build roots. Also, no matter how much he wants to stay out of trouble, I think he’s drawn to it because it’s really all he knows. It’s his instinct to keep an eye out for danger and tells himself he’ll run in the opposite direction if it comes too close. But because he’s been the victim one-too-many times before, it’s difficult for Quentin to turn a blind eye when it happens - or when he sees other victims in the making. More often than not, he gets involved. One day, he’ll pay for it.

⤜ Put yourself in your character’s shoes. Give us a few lines to describe a day in the life of your character… Where do they live? Where and how do they spend their time?

Quentin lives in a fairly rundown single-bedroom apartment just on the outskirts of the French Quarter. He could probably afford something he’d be less embarrassed to show to a guest, but a) he’s not planning on any guests and b) he’s trying to save up some dough. There’s no illusion about it; he knows the money from his drug-dealing days will dry up soon and it’s extra stress he doesn’t need on his shoulders right now. He used to be an early-riser, back when PTSD and withdrawal symptoms weren’t this big a problem. These days it’s hard enough for him to get three decent hours of sleep in a row - let alone wake up early to face the day. It’s part of the reason why he figures working as a bouncer isn’t costing him much. So he’ll drag his ass out of bed sometime after noon and try to get some type of physical activity in to out-compete the constant lethargy in his muscles. If there’s one plus to werewolf physiology it’s certainly that a little goes a long way. If he’s feeling antisocial - which is most days - he’ll follow it up with day in; updating himself on the news (both local and in Chicago), do his best to keep tabs on the stories that don’t make it onto the news regarding the Mafia’s extensive activities - and try his best not to alert anyone onto his digging. Hours fly by nursing his anxiety in this way - or maybe his obsession - before he remembers putting in a call to his mom to make sure she’s okay. Their conversations usually leave him feeling guiltier than not, and he’d hate to admit that it’s often with relief that he ends the call right before going to work.

On days when he’s had just about enough of his four walls, Quentin seeks out the pack in the Bayou - Jackson’s, specifically. He does so carefully, constantly wary of being followed and hoping that he’ll find the Alpha as close to alone as possible. Sometimes they’ll train together, sometimes Jackson will answer his questions - or sometimes they’ll just sit in companionable silence over a drink or two. He likes those nights best. If he isn’t at work, at home or in the Bayou, Quentin is usually in a meeting with Mrs. Martin, answering an inquisition regarding Lydia’s safety and whereabouts, or in attendance at some glitzy event he doesn’t want to attend. Very rarely, he can be found poking around Tulane University or the local library, thumbing through books he wishes he understood. In the evenings he’ll put on the tv and watch something mindless until he blocks out his thoughts and dozes off for the night.

⤜ Give us three headcanons regarding your character of choice.

1) Quentin’s has a petty thievery habit that he can’t quite shake. Things that won’t be missed; Carol Lockwood’s tattered copy of the Great Gatsby, or a french menu he swiped out of a too-expensive restaurant that Lydia was visiting. He can’t really explain why he does it, other than a fleeting curiosity in the objects when he first sees them, but as a result Quentin has a stockpile of random shit at home.

2) Quentin has GAD, or generalized anxiety disorder. It’s yet another of the many side-effects resulting from his years as a drug dealer; with the fear of constant shakedowns hanging over his head. The fact that his brother spent time in prison and that he himself is still under Emilio’s thumb only exacerbated his symptoms over time. It’s subtle for the most part, manifesting itself in the odd tick or repetitive behavior – but it can become quite severe when he’s under stress, and has led to a panic attack more than once before.

3) Quentin’s favourite movie is Slumdog Millionaire, and his favourite book is S.E. Hinton's The Outsiders. He hasn’t had the chance to read too many books in his life but he’s damn near certain this would be his favourite even if he’d read every book in the universe. There was just something about being a Greaser that made him feel like he could relate… Like S.E. Hinton knew exactly what she was talking about. The only thing that changes each time he rereads the book, is which character he relates to most at that particular point in his life. Ponyboy when he was little, Two-bit when he’s stealing, Johnny when he’s breaking down and Darrel, when he has something to look up to.

⤜ What are some plots you’d like to explore with your character? Quentin’s distrust of the witches and the vampires is growing, especially because he sees (or imagines) too many parallels between them and the mentality of the Mob he’s running from. He’s heard of too many abuses of power, and he hates how both set of supernaturals have something about keeping up appearances. I think he’s going to make enemies fast in both camps, and I’m totally here for it. I’d also like to explore a plot where he actively attempts to get back on track with his education (something that's privately important to him) and see where academic life takes him. Lastly (for now!) I want to see whether being a packless wolf brings on pressures of its own as different Alpha powers begin to oppose each other in the Bayou and the threats - both internally and externally - increase.

⤜ Para sample:

This isn’t his scene, not remotely. But if Lydia’s mom wants to pay him fifty bucks an hour to stand in a corner and watch over her daughter, it’s no skin off his back. There’s alcohol floating around and that makes this whole thing a little easier, although it’s been months since he’s really felt the buzz. Jackson mentioned something about werewolf metabolism once, although he isn’t sure he was listening to the details. Now, as he reaches for a pricey shot of whiskey, he wish he’d listened better.

Quentin spots Lydia as he brings the glass up to his lips, briefly makes eye-contact with her before she goes back to pretending he isn’t there. He doesn’t care, he prefers it that way. She’s easier to monitor when she isn’t trying to get a rise out of him or batting those eyelashes with enough emphasis to get him fired. Green eyes, like bayou leaves or the underbelly of a dragon… That, combined with the flaming red hair is as effective as a stop sign.

His eyes travel over to her stepdad, Mr. Lockwood, who’s busy laughing too loudly at his own joke. The dad has a smile that makes him want to kick over a garbage can in his path. A smile made of razorblades. And then there’s Tyler, a few feet away. Tyler looking rich and shiny like a… Well like a douchebag, really. It’s enough to have him knocking back the rest of his whiskey without a second thought. On the bright side, he’s not paid for their security. Father and son could spontaneously combust and he’d still go home with a paycheck so long as Lydia kept away from the flames. On the downside, there’s still three more hours left to this social soirée. He wants to go for another drink but doesn’t in case he’s being monitored. Instead, Quentin finds himself in the empty gallery.

It’s been four minutes, maybe five when he feels the unmistakable sensation of a metal barrel to his spine. The boy stiffens immediately; body one long, taut string. If he moves, he’s dead. Muscle memory knows how this works. “What the fuck do you want?”

“Is that any way t’ welcome an old friend? Huh??” The gun is whipped twice against his external oblique and the werewolf buckles forward in response to the throbbing pain.

“Leave me alone, I’ll-”

“- Or else what? Think you can kill me too? There’s a lotta people coming for you, Flores. And the things they wanna do to you, kid…” There’s a slick, wet sound as he sucks the saliva in between his teeth. “Let’s just say I wouldn’t wanna be you. But the new Don wants me ‘o give you a choice. Calls it amnesty. All you gotta do… Is kill Carol Lockwood. ”

And there it is again, that tidal wave of rage that rises within him without warning. He doesn’t know if he’s angrier at the thug or at himself for foolishly hoping the Mob’s mercy would come free of strings. In a flash he’s rammed one elbow into the man’s stomach and turned to shove his knee where it’ll cause the most damage. “You’re gonna regret that!” The other snarls just as he dives for the gun. It goes off with a deafening bang and misses Quentin by a hairline. Conversation stops in the adjoining room and within seconds his assailant is gone, leaving a crumpled heap on the ground, and a broken window in his wake.

The next thing he knows Lydia is rushing in, closely followed by a bunch of other well-to-dos. The sharpness to her whisper is unmistakable; she’s furious. “What the hell are you doing?? Who was that?… Nothing to see here, people, just a clumsy little slip! Back to the foyer!”

It takes him a good minute to regain control of his vocal cords as the crowd disperses. “Nobody.” His voice is hoarse, and when he grasps the back of a chair in order to help himself up, the tremor in his hand betrays him. “It was nobody.”

⤜ Would you like to be considered for another character if not accepted as your primary choice? No.

⤜ Have you read the rules?: Yes

⤜ Would you be willing to have this character killed off? Yes. ⤜ Anything else? No.

#lsrpg #to rpg #tvd rpg #salem rpg #tw rpg #sample application

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kristie-rp · 5 years

Text

TS: Cover Up

FIRST | I-1 | SECOND

“Why do you have a complete list of Infernos?” Axel asks her. Jonathan is in the little kitchen area of the office Intella barely uses, making a meal of instant noodles and the microwave. It has left Intella and Axel alone to go over whatever changes they can figure out.

“I’m a historian,” Intella says, although it explains next to nothing. She glances up to see he is giving her an incredibly unimpressed look, his brow raised. He doesn’t have to say the words no kidding aloud; she can see it written in his face. She sighs and closes her notebook. “Look at it this way – Paimon knows which children he has. Christabella is drawn to them. But neither of them track the bloodline: there are descendants born of traditional reproduction, and there’s the blood that’s been used by Herontesuto and variants over the years. Someone needs to keep an eye on where the bloodline is active, especially since trouble follows them everywhere. No one else is going to do it, so I took it upon myself.”

Axel hums, because that makes a particular kind of sense that is unique to Intella, as he well knows by now. She sees it as her responsibility to act as the keeper of information. It’s part of why he thinks it is worth it to spread traces of his power throughout her notebooks. He leans across the table to pull the book she’s been writing in all afternoon towards him. Intella rocks back in her chair to scrub her hands over her face, already starting to tire from the hours of intensive research they have put in, and uses the momentary reprieve to stretch, attempting to work kinks from her spine.

He flicks the book open. Inside, he finds a contents page, starting with the oldest Inferno – Gina and continuing on until it mentions Paiton, the child that Intella has been assured exists soon in the future. There is no mention of Paimon or Christabella in the contents, presumably because they are listed elsewhere, or because Intella hasn’t gotten around to copying out the information yet. Axel turns the page, scanning for what he should be looking out for.

Gina’s page lists the arranged marriage she refused, and her meeting Salem, followed by a list of years and events that related to her piracy and culminating in her recent return to the city. Nicolas’s is a long list of names , lovers and children and a note to cross-reference with another book for a complete record to the present day. The third page is about someone named Leila, who does not sound familiar to Axel except as a prisoner he’d shared a cell wall with last time Heron had caught him. He remembers a hushed voice and the sort of dialogue he associates with someone who has given up.

The first major note next to her name is that she meets Axel nearly 1800 years earlier, and that it was not long before they married. The second note lists a pregnancy – and it’s all ensconced with a curly bracket next to the label of ‘undone during unknown event’.

Axel has absolutely no memory of any of the things listed in the page.

“Intella,” he says quietly, before repeating himself slightly louder. Once he has her attention, he asks, “Leila Inferno?”

Intella pales, and he is immediately hit by the impression that whatever this is, she feels guilty about it. “What of her?”

“Married, pregnant, and undone?”

Intella winces. “If you’re about to ask why I’ve never mentioned this to you, consider – there are things you don’t tell me. I’m sure you have reasons, that I don’t need to know, or that if I do know I’ll be worse off, somehow. Whatever happened with Leila – I believe that’s similar.”

“You have no memory of this, though.”

“I have the notes,” she corrects, ignoring how clipped his tone is because she knows it does not bode well for any of them, “and that’s more than enough. There’s a detailed record of how you two interacted with one another, of how I couldn’t aid Leila in doing anything to alleviate her condition. And according to my hypotheses from when I first found the inconsistency, it seemed likely it was caused by a paradox or another event preventing the two of you from meeting when you were supposed to. There’s nothing you could’ve done to fix it, then – however much it might be necessary.”

Intella watches as Axel works his jaw, either considering his next words carefully or trying not to let his anger direct his choices. “You had no right to keep this from me,” he says at last, breaking the silence. “Your reasoning is terrible, and – you just had no right, alright?”

“What use would telling you have done, Axel? What could it possibly have enabled?”

“I would have known she exists, for one!” he snaps.

“You know countless people exist – this one person isn’t going to change anything. I’m sure Leila’s perfectly fine, but she clearly doesn’t need you in her life.”

She regrets saying it immediately as Axel slams his hands on the table, causing the books to shudder. “Doesn’t need me? Is she better off without me, Intella? Do you get to make that call, in all your genius?”

“I wouldn’t put it like – read the damn page, Axel!”

His lip twists as he seethes with frustration at her ordering him around, but he obeys nonetheless. Intella does not make uninformed decisions, generally speaking. He’s angry with her – he doesn’t like not knowing things, and dislikes the knowledge that she has made the decision to hide this from him across numerous lifetimes even more. The dishonesty leaves a sour taste in his mouth, and as he reads the list of things that Intella has identified as Leila’s contributions. They start with a note that makes Axel feel ill, that Intella cannot find a treatment or a cure for her condition, and a note to refer elsewhere for potential side effects, and to cross-reference with Oriel.

It doesn’t get better from there.

It seems that Leila has not gone out of her way to participate in things the way other Inferno’s have. Where most of them have some presence in human wars – even Gina had some involvement – Leila has none. There are no notes of career accomplishments, or attachments to others; indeed, her greatest involvement seems to involve surfacing after Oriel was born for a brief period. Intella’s notes suggest it was to share what she knows of their shared ability, and she disappears not long after. A list of years alongside it suggest appearing for Oriel again and again, but it is erratic and centuries apart, in places. It mentions her being caught and trapped by Heron for years at a time, and by organisations and groups that preceded it. At least, Axel assumes it features years at a time – the only sign that she ever leaves an extended period of confinement is the inclusion of later years, different years – he can’t tell how long she was held from 1918, but she is being held elsewhere in 1931. And it goes on and on and on.

“I’m not convinced that you meeting her any time than whenever you originally did would have done anything to help her. She’s clearly not in a good place.”

“Not in a good place? Intella, if she’d gotten out any sooner, someone would have to be breaking her out – that there’s nothing here, no dates, clearly no one bothered. She needs someone.”

Intella swallows. She can see Axel’s point – of course she can – but she cannot regret her decision. “And that someone should be you? When you already do everything you can to defend the time stream as a whole? When there’s no guarantee you’ll be able to be at the right time to help anyway?”

“I can travel through time,” he snaps.

“If you mess up an attempt to help, you can’t go back without causing a paradox. Which renders your entire argument null and void, doesn’t it? So far as I can tell, whatever undid you meeting in the first place was a paradox in itself. You want to continue off such an auspicious start? When you don’t even know what she’s like?”

Axel snorts at that. “Like you don’t know what it’s like to miss something you haven’t had yet,” he retorts. Intella twitches.

“That’s not fair,” she says quietly, reaching across the table to take her notes back. “You and Leila wouldn’t be the same as Jonathan and I.”

Whatever Axel is going to say in response is cut off as Jonathan emerges from the kitchen balancing three servings of noodles. “Did someone say my name?”

Intella and Axel stare at each other for a long moment before Axel grits his teeth and looks away, getting up to take a bowl from his brother and eat separately from the two of them. “Just your devoted wife,” he mutters as he leaves.

Jonathan blinks. “Did something happen?”

“Nothing we can deal with now,” Intella answers quietly, and opens her notebook to read through while she eats.

They’re up until the small hours of the morning reviewing everything Intella knows, and some things she’s forgotten.

“You need sleep,” Axel says at last, when Intella yawns for the third time in ten minutes. Intella opens her mouth to protest, and Axel glares at her. “No. You’re human, you need rest if you’re going to be at your best to help me fix this.”

Intella’s jaw closes with an audible click. Axel’s still mad at her, but this is also the first time she knows of that he’s actually been willing to let her, potentially, travel with him. She levels him with a disapproving stare, but pushes herself to her feet. “Fine.”

Jonathan looks between of them, fully aware they must have argued about something when he left. Something gives him pause. “Wait, Intella helping you?”

“I don’t have enough power to protect three people from the changes out there. But, if you stay in here, that’ll work. And it needs to be Intella. She knows more than you about everything that originally happened.”

“What? Axel –”

“I’ve made my decision, Jonathan. Don’t you start arguing with me, too.”

“What are you –“ Jonathan cuts off when Intella rests a hand on his arm. He looks at her, sees her shaking her head.

“You know my system, Jonathan. You can keep up with what changes in the texts, and you’re better at checking online for information, anyway. Anything that’s really useful will be on there as it is – for updated information. Until the books finish rewriting themselves.”

He wants to protest. Of course he wants to protest; he wants to protect her, protect his brother. If he’s stuck in the library, he can’t do that.

But Intella shakes her head at him, offers a small smile. “Axel will look after me just fine. C’mon, when has he ever let me get hurt?”

Jonathan looks for some sign that he should be worried, but Intella has a good poker face when she wants to. She’s smiling like she’s sure this’ll work out just fine, and in spite of himself, he caves quickly. He trusts Intella, he trusts Axel.

Even if he can see perfectly clearly that neither one of them is happy with the other right now.

#the sequence #kristie writes #kristie's writing #kwrites #kwriting #ft. intella #ft. axel #ft. jonathan

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