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casspurrjoybell-17 · 2 years

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HEART'S PRICE - CHAPTER 66

*Warning: Adult Content*

"It's a supporting wall," Ian Foley explains for the fifth time. "You can't just knock it out.”

"Why not?" Alpha Dane Hunter asks, crossing his arms over his broad chest with a stubborn scowl.

Ian sighs and then slowly and patiently repeats what he's already explained four times.

"Because it will compromise-the-structural-integrity-of-the-house," he enunciates carefully and waves a hand. "Mess a bunch of shit up, in the long term."

"Like what? Can't you... compensate?"

Dane adds a sneer and a nasty twist to the last word and Noah Hunter mentally plants his face in his palm.

He's been itching for a fight for weeks and Ian, given his history with Julian, is the perfect target.

Fortunately, Ian's not an Alpha.

Instead, he has the patient, self-accepting air of a man who was once convinced he needed to be and has since outgrown that conviction through the rare and painful process of self-reflection.

"Yeah," he allows, brushing a hand through his short red hair, much lighter than Ambrose Thorne's dark auburn shade and sighs again as he studies the wall. "If we replace the basic posts with heavier, load-bearing beams, reinforce the foundation and the roof structure, then sure we can 'compensate.'"

"Good," Dane nods. "Do it, then."

Noah winces.

Dane is both literally and figuratively 'poking the bear' and while his five-year-old self might have been interested in who would win 'Grizzly vs. Wolf' he’s currently more interested in preserving the furniture.

"Great!" Noah exclaims, clapping his hands with pretend enthusiasm. "I'm so glad that's settled. Oh, by the way Dane, I think Grace has something to show you. Outside. In the yard."

"Oh yeah?" Dane grunts. "What?"

"I don't know," Noah shrugs. "You'll have to go see."

Dane shoots his brother a look that says Noah is not fooling him but stomps away to talk to Grace anyway.

When she visits, she always brings food. Ian sighs, watching him go.

"Shit. I almost wanna take his bait, just to let him blow off steam," he says, adjusting the black patch he wears over one eye. "Poor guy."

"Don't worry about it," Noah says, rotating a sore shoulder. "He gets plenty of exercise. He's just not great at the 'human emotions' thing. He misses Julian."

It's been almost three months since the night at the standing stones and to be honest, Dane is doing better than he was.

For the first few weeks, he'd relapsed into the behavior he'd displayed the first time Julian disappeared, spending almost all his time as a wolf and refusing to leave the site where our mates had vanished.

Freya, Chloe, Grace, and Noah had brought him food and forced him to Shift and talk to them but eventually, they'd decided that an intervention was in order.

Freya, brave woman that she is, took on the task and whatever she said or did, it seems to have worked.

He'd returned to them, resumed his responsibilities and thrown himself into his work and especially, into the task of remodeling the cottage.

Ian's family owns the place and the land it's on, so Dane had needed his permission and blessing, readily given and as Ian himself is a carpenter, it made sense that he'd take on the job.

Unfortunately, when Dane's mood goes south, as it often does, Ian often ends up in the cross-hairs of his wrath.

"What about you, kid?" Ian asks, taking a swig of water from a reusable bottle and wiping his brow. "You doin' alright?"

Noah is pretty sure Ian is only a few years older than him and he wonders if anyone smaller than him is a 'kid' in his mind.

Although, given that his own mate is quite a bit younger and even more slightly built than Noah is, he sort of hopes not.

"I'm okay," Noah answers and it's true from the start, he’s been better off than Dane. "I miss Ambrose, of course but I know he's alright."

He rubs the spot in the center of his chest where the fire in his heart burns with a low, steady warmth.

It's not the same as having Ambrose here but it lessens the ache of separation, a bit.

Compared to what he went through when he thought Ambrose had rejected him, it's not that bad.

"Yeah, I get that," Ian says, his expression softening. "I got the same sorta thing with my Sam. I don't like bein' apart from him but if it can't be helped, it's like..." He squints, searching for words, then shrugs. "Like I can still sense him, I guess."

Sam, Ian's mate, is a demon hybrid, half human and half incubus and ‘unsurprisingly, Noah supposes, given his nature’ shares a soul-level bond with his unlikely lover, which Ian has described as a sort of mutually binding demonic pact.

Ian is right that Ambrose and Noah share something similar but it's more like they've exchanged a part of themselves rather than merely linked them and in Noah’s case, at least, there have been certain side effects.

Ian frowns as Noah moves his shoulder again and winces as it hurts.

"You sure you don't want me to go a few rounds with him?" he asks, meaning Dane. "I got the bulk to handle it. Might mellow him out a bit. Plus, I wouldn't mind the chance to get a few swings in of my own," he adds.

Noah shakes his head, giving Ian a reassuring smile.

"Nah. Freya and I have him in hand and I heal a lot faster than I used to."

Noah hadn't noticed right away but gradually it had become more obvious and then undeniable, his wolf's form had changed.

His fur, before an unremarkable dark gray, is now longer, thicker and has a warmer undertone, while his ears and tail are tipped in red.

The amber hue of his eyes, too, has shifted towards the darker end of cinnabar.

Most notable, though, is the way he now heals more quickly than he ever have before, something of Ambrose's ability that, along with his fire, it seems he's shared with me.

He had discovered it the first time Dane went too far, when he, Freya and he were running as wolves and his human emotions had come out as aggression in his wolf.

They were playing 'chase' and despite being the better sprinter, Dane worn Noah down and caught him and then he'd bitten too hard and broken his arm.

It was an accident and stuff like that happens now and then ‘they're wolves, after all’ but Dane had been tortured by guilt anyway, of course and Freya had given him hell.

They were all surprised when the next day Noah had woken up with very sore but otherwise solidly mended, bones.

He still couldn't bounce back the way Dane did but a break or a sprain or a dislocated shoulder, now meant only days, rather than weeks of recovery.

This is fortunate, because burning off his feelings with exercise and aggression is how Dane cope, and it helps not to have to worry too much about being badly hurt while Freya and Noah flank him and keep him under control.

In some ways, Dane is worse than he was the first time. Then, as now, he'd suffered the pain of being separated from his mate.

This time, though, he's also terrified.

Because this time, when Julian returns, Dane will be a father and of all of them, he's the least sure he's ready for that.

"Well," Ian sighs, turning his attention back to the difficulty of the wall. "For all our sakes, I hope Jules and your man come back soon."

"Yeah," Noah agrees, looking around at the mess of the half-gutted house. "Though for Dane's sake, I hope we get this finished first. Otherwise, Julian will freak."

~ ☾ ~

Two more months go by.

Winter ends, Spring arrives and the days grow warm.

The meadows turn green with lush grasses, the forests with new leaves and the promise of life is carried in the flower-scented breeze.

Noah hopes it's Spring in Faerie, too and that Ambrose is somewhere beautiful.

In the meantime, Dane's not the only one preparing his home for his mate's return.

Noah hadn't been sure he'd be able to bear living in the old mansion after everything that had happened there and he knew Ambrose wouldn't blame him if he abandoned the place.

Nonetheless, after all the crime-scene tape was cleared away and Mathilda and the others had left, he'd discovered that it still felt like home to him.

Still, he'd been stressed out of his mind.

The place is immense and he'd balked as he imagined the cost of everything from the electricity bill to the property taxes.

Fortunately, Ambrose was a man who didn't like to think about such things more than he absolutely had to and everything was on some kind of auto-pay system. Which was fortunate, as Noah had no access to his bank accounts and almost no money of his own.

In essence, from a legal standpoint, at least, he was a squatter, living in an empty home while the owner was away.

Then there were the remnants of the horrors that were harder than ashes and crime-scene tape to clear away.

He'd be lying if he said the passages in the walls didn't give him nightmares or that, once he'd discovered the room attached to the basement where Rowan had kept Aengus for so many years, he didn't seriously consider burning the whole house down.

In the end, though, these things were the small, dark corners of an otherwise beautiful home and like flaws in a personality, they didn't represent the whole.

So, Noah did what he could, spending hours on end cleaning and making repairs, turning the ruined lawns and gardens into a more natural, eco-friendly landscape and falling into bed each night grateful for the ache in his bones and the exhaustion that carried him to sleep and which kept his mind off a certain, red-haired dragon whose absence he felt with every breath.

~ ☾ ~

"The university called," Noah announces one morning in April over a breakfast of a spicy Andouille sausage scramble prepared by Grace. "They apologized and offered my old job back."

He is sitting at the table in the newly refurbished kitchen-slash-dining area in Dane's home, along with Freya, Chloe, Grace and Dane himself.

"Heeey." Freya exclaims, whacking the side of her brother’s arm. "Good for you, Nono. You gonna take 'em up on that?"

Noah shakes his head.

“No, I don't think I will, Frey."

"What?"

She sits back, eyes wide with shock.

"I thought that job meant everything to you."

Noah nods, spearing a slice of sausage with his fork as he composes his thoughts.

"It did," he says. "I spent my whole life carving out a place for myself in that world... 'Noah Hunter, Professor of Linguistics.'"

Noah rolls his eyes.

"If I'm honest, I never really felt like I belonged there. I loved my studies, loved my field with my whole heart." he shakes his head. "It never loved me back. I think that's part of why I was vulnerable to someone like Thomas. It seemed like he accepted me when no one else ever would."

"Noah..."

Freya's lip trembles and he suppresses a laugh as an impression of a cartoon character with huge, shining eyes flashes across his mind.

"It's okay," he assures her. "And I know you and Dane dug up all kinds of dirt on Thomas. Thank you. It means a lot and I..."

"Actually..." Freya interrupts, biting her lip. "Don't be mad, Nono but it wasn't me an' Dane. It was... It was my 'hunting' partner, Darius. He owed me and... Well... I kinda passed the job along to him."

Noah stares at her a moment, caught between genuine surprise and an unhealthy level of enjoyment at her obvious discomfort.

"Oh. Well, then..."

"Darius is extremely subtle," Freya assures me earnestly, leaning across the table to grasp her brother’s hand. "He'd never..."

"Expose himself?" an unfamiliar voice asks, smooth as the best dark chocolate, as a man emerges from the shadows at the corner of the room.

He's tall, handsome, dark-skinned and clearly inhuman.

He has the look of a cross between a Vodun Priest and a vampire and Noah gets the feeling he may be both, with talismans about his neck and sharp teeth showing in his wide, bright smile.

"Darius L'Amour," he says, bowing from the waist. "A pleasure, I am sure."

"Darius?" Freya hisses, twisting in her seat. "What about 'wait in the fucking car' do you not understand?"

"Apologies, sister," he drawls, eyes shining with incorrigible and wicked humor. "I could not resist."

"Shit." Freya huffs, leaning her face against her hand a moment before regaining her usual unapologetic composure. "Fine. Whatever. Everyone, meet Darius."

She gestures between them.

"Darius, everyone. Except Julian and Ambrose, obviously. And the rest of my family. Which is considerable in number."

She sighs and rests her head on her folded arms.

"Forgive me," Darius drawls. "I did not intend to intrude but Freya speaks so highly of you all and after driving that wonderful 'Recreational Vehicle' of yours all the way from Louisiana to the Pacific Coast... Well, I could not resist the temptation to observe."

"Darius," Freya hisses again, without lifting her head. "Go...wait...in...the...RV."

A smile lights his eyes and stretches his lips but he bows with easy acquiescence and with a last nod to the rest of us, departs like a shadow fleeing the edge of light.

A moment passes in which no one speaks.

"Freya?" Noah asks, touching her shoulder. "You okay?"

"Yup." She nods, lifting her head. "I'm okay if you're okay, brother."

Noah offers her a smile,but Dane's scowl looks like it's in danger of splitting his face.

"Are you and that...man...uh...?" he asks, or tries to, since it comes out as more of a choked rasp.

Freya glares.

"He's my 'hunting partner,' like I said. Nothing more."

Dane slumps with obvious relief. "

Oh. Okay then."

"Okay, then," Freya echoes with narrowed eyes, though there's a challenge in her tone.

"So, anyway," Noah interrupts quickly. "Point is, I'm grateful that you or Darius or whoever, exposed Thomas for who and what he was but... Well, I guess I don't want what I've already lost. I want something more. I want something new."

He shifts his gaze from Freya to Dane.

"I want to stay here, in Spring Lakes," he says. "With my Pack."

~ ☾ ~

Noah wakes early in the morning on the 1st of May with a tingling in his chest.

He sits up in the wide, mostly empty bed in Ambrose's room and for a moment, he’s worried that there's something wrong with him.

Then he sees the little flames licking up and down his arms and he understands. His mate is coming back.

A few quick phone calls later and Noah is dressed and on his way to the site of the standing stones, his heart racing in his breast.

He parks his old car and set out across the night-darkened field,and within moments he’s joined by Freya and Dane.

Together, they gather at the edge of the stones, hearts in their mouths, as they wait for some sign from the other side.

Then, with the subtlety of the silver edge of a moonlit cloud, the doorway opens and Ambrose appears.

He looks like some ancient God of the Hunt, dressed in furs with his wild hair long and woven with ribbons of moss, his red-brown eyes lit with flame.

They land on Noah and his whole being lights with joy.

"Little wolf," he says and then Noah in his arms. He is home, as he has never been before.

A moment later, though, Noah pulls away, alarmed as he hears his brother's half-strangled cry and turns to see him take Julian in the gentlest embrace.

When he steps back, his eyes unabashedly wet with tears, Noah see the reason for his uncharacteristic carefulness.

Julian holds not one tiny bundle but two.

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fossiljockmatt · 6 months

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Lore Drop: The Couch Goblin

"Not my world, just live in it." - The Couch Goblin

Very little is known about the creature who refers to herself simply as "The Couch Goblin." Myths and rumors have been whispered among conspiracy sites for years. Sightings and quick glimpses are spoken about in hushed tones between people comfortable enough with each other to speak of such things. Most would dismiss the stories as imagination run wild... but... that isn't the case.

The Couch Goblin is, in fact, very real... and her story is a strange one.

Alongside our world, exists many others. Like a hall of distorted fun house mirrors, each of these worlds is both alike and different from our own. In one such world, goblins and other fantasy races are not fantasy at all. Goblins, in particular, are subjugated by humans who hunt them for the magickal abilities. By targeting the young goblings before they have become adept, these hunters can sell them into servitude as familars to mages and wizards. Charlatans who, without their familiars, would be unable to wield nature magick on their own.

The Couch Goblin was unfortunately a target of one of these hunts a decade ago. Equally unfortunate for her pursuers, however, she was a runt. Small for her age, but perfectly capable of defending herself with magick. When her situation took an even more dire turn, she found herself outnumbered and surrounded on one side and with a bottomless chasm on the other. She was confronted with two choices: either accept a life of servitude, or die a free goblin. She chose the latter and leapt into the chasm.

Unknown to her, or anyone else, this chasm was a temporary gateway. A weak point in space. She soon found herself jettisoned from an abandoned dumpster and onto the the hard pavement. Scared, and alone, she found herself in a world surrounded by the creatures her kind fears most... us.

Among the trash and other discarded items in the alley was an old lone claw footed couch. The sole source of warmth in this dingy alleyway. With some difficulty, she used magick to enchant it, making it new again while also creating a small pocket dimension within it. A new home.

"Goblin not have name, k? To goblin, name pointless. Goblin are tribe. Tribe where live. Live cave, Cave Goblin. Live couch. Couch Goblin. Not rocket science." - The Couch Goblin

The couch sat in the alley for a short time, but was quickly taken. It's not everyday you happen upon a perfectly good free couch. But, in turn, it just as quickly found it's way on the curb again as soon as its new owner caught a blurry glimpse of something moving between the cushions. The Couch Goblin became accustomed to this lifestyle, an almost continual cycle of adoption and abandonment. At least when the humans were away, the goblin could play. She often swiped clothing, food, and even watched the occasional TV show.

After changing hands so many times, the Couch Goblin began to get weary of life like this. She had chosen to be free, but she didn't feel free. One final time, the couch was placed on the curb to be taken to who knows where. In the dead of night, the goblin emerged and pinned a piece of paper to the upholstery with just one word: "Free."

A young man was driving home along his normal route when he noticed the couch on the curb. As I have said, it's not everyday you see such an exquisite piece of furniture on the side of the road, free for the taking. He quickly decided to take it but as he laboriously dragged it to his truck he didn't notice two red eyes watching him. Little did he realize, this couch comes with a roommate.

----

"Couch Goblin" is a companion comic to "Mixten Genetics." The story starts after Ch. 3 of "Mixten Genetics" so I'm hoping to get seriously rolling with that storyline after Gobtober and start Couch Goblin maybe next Spring/early Summer.

So how does a story about a interdimensional goblin insenki'd to our world relate to one about people mutated in a less than reputable genetics laboratory? Good question. I mean, I know, but I guess you'll all have to wait to find out.

#original character #monster girl #goblin #goblin girl #gobtober #gobbo #gobtober2023 #goblin art

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sakusbo · 3 years

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house hunters international be like

*the ugliest house you’ve ever seen* *shitty bathroom with tile absolutely everywhere* omg this has so much character and vintage charm

*beautiful apartment with a balcony* *at the city center like the person asked* this doesn’t have a backyard in the middle of a european village i’m going to kill myself and it’ll be your fault

#i have a lot of opinions about house hunters #and yet i keep watching it #house hunting #house hunters #house hunters international #hgtv #does anyone on this site even watch house hunters #mutuals...y’all r probably gonna be so confused i’m sorry

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shirophantomvox · 3 years

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How Illumi, Hisoka, and Chrollo would react to their S/O in the hospital

Hi, anon! You are welcome to join my Discord Server if you are a fan of Hxh, Voltron, or both! I promise this is a safe environment! This is an interesting topic for sure! To the other anon(s), I am working on your request! This will contain both fluff and angst. I forgot to include Leorio in this, so I’ll include him in the next HxH post. You’ll have to forgive me, I have 2 more requests in my inbox and I am not feeling the best. I just got my second Covid shot and it is hurting like hell. Nevertheless, I encourage you all to get your shot if you can. I will be on this site one and off and I should be on it for real next week. I have run out of ideas to write and I began to think I was annoying people with my HxH content (no one said this I just assumed). This post has 1974 words. After these requests are finished, I plan on doing a character analysis for Leorio.

Anyway, let’s get into the post!

We’ll start with Hisoka this time.

Hisoka

In all honesty, this man has heard of a hospital (since he sends a lot of people to it after fights) but has never been in one.

The signs, floors, staircase numbers, and elevators all confuse him. He has only been in one once when he was a kid and has never been again.

He isn’t a social butterfly in this setting because this is a professional establishment and not a college party. Asking for directions takes quite a toll on him because of his established pride. You know guys act when they want to find a destination on their own and will go miles out of the way instead of just asking for direction.

He doesn’t talk to anyone; all he wants to do is find you and make sure you are alright.

He is the tallest person in the freight elevator. So tall that everyone at turns to look at him at once for at least 10 seconds and turn back around surprised.

“How tall is he,” one of the nurses ask.

“Tall enough to be my house!”

This annoys him. He takes out the Joker card and lays it against his thigh but realizes he cannot make any hasty decisions. His bloodlust was activated merely out of irritation and not by threat. You were on his mind and destroying these worthless humans wasn’t an option for today.

He approached the guest desk and waited for about 2 minutes before he was acknowledged.

“May I help you,” a smug receptionist asked. Wow, these people do not know who they’re talking to.

“I’m here to see y/n.”

“Y/n is in room 345. Go down the hall and to the right all the way down.”

This man nearly ran with a quickness! His jester shoes somehow made the floor shake as he ran.

You were awake, eating the horrible food the hospital provided and watching TV. It seemed like you were doing ok, but you had just been in a car accident. Your arms and right leg were still sore. It was so bad that you’d be fine with Hisoka carrying you everywhere.

When you two are alone in serious public places, he doesn’t play games or tricks. He is often portrayed as a ruthless man, but in settings like this, he places the jokes and games aside for later. When he enters your room, he is silent for 30 seconds. Much too long. He was shocked; he walked around your hospital bed, pulled up a chair, and stared at your cast. It had many names written on it.

“Yes, I am ok.”

“I apologize for not being there for you,” he began to say.

“Shh… it’s ok. This is life. It hurts like hell, but I’m a trooper!”

Admiring your cast and its multiple fonts of handwriting and messages, he grabbed a sharpie marker, wrote his name, with a heart and spade next to it. Surprisingly, his cursive was very neat and legible.

“I didn’t know you knew how to write in cursive! Why don’t you write me letters?”

“I see you every day and it hurts my hand.”

The doctor wouldn’t be in for another 1 ½ hours, so Hisoka used your thigh as a pillow as he took a nap. He had been up for countless nights thinking about you. He was screwing up so bad, Chrollo let him leave early.

“As soon as your better, we will fight again. I won’t go easy on you. You won’t be in the hospital but you get the jest.”

Illumi

Illumi isn’t the type of man to overreact in these types of situations. When you both agreed to date each other, you knew you all were tough cookies. You were aware of the dangers of dating an assassin and he knew about the dangers of dating a bounty hunter. People hated you both and you targeted.

One night you both were caught in a vulnerable state. While you both enjoyed chocolate milkshakes at a laid-back 1950’s styled diner, two men were previously thrown out for fighting. While your back was turned one of those men shot your arm, causing you to carelessly throw your body to the ground due to impact.

While everyone else was screaming, Illumi jumped to the ground and tied his hair tie around your arm to temporarily stop the bleeding.

“Illu, why does it feel cold in here,” you managed to breathe out.

His heart dropped to his stomach for the first time in history.

“Don’t say things like that!”

Illumi is already horrible at displaying emotions, but all he could do is frown in fear. Once the EMS came barling in, he demanded that he ride with you.

Illumi hadn’t experienced anything like this since Killua had been injured when he fell from a tree.

You and he were separated when you were rushed into surgery leaving him alone in the waiting room.

When Illumi is stressed and cannot properly display how he feels, he tends to act in “odd” ways.

He begins to furiously turn pages in magazines or bother the receptions every 2 minutes about the status of your surgery. When the woman finally says that you’re still alive, he tones it down a little.

Illumi is open to conforming advice from strangers; he has been receiving it secretly from strangers. Since Silva was busy abusing him, he often found comfort from “the streets”.

He has a bad habit of pacing back and forth and fidgeting in his seat while horrific images fill his mind. All he has seen is pain and even though he was used to it, he didn’t want you to go through it as well.

While sitting in his seat (finally!) and head in his lap, doubled over indescribable sorrow, a little girl walks up to him with her hands folded and a doll under her arms. Illumi feels her presence and looks up. The girl’s curly hair covered her endearing eyes and her smile is wide.

“They’ll be alright. I just know they will,” turning around returning to her mother, the girl said with confidence.

On cue, Illumi placed his hand over his heart, smiling just a little.

He walked quickly to your room once you were out of surgery.

His speed walk mimics one of a soldier; his left arm in since with his right leg. His shoes echoed throughout the hall.

As soon as he enters the room, he shuts the door harder than usual and gives you a tight embrace. This surprises you! You’re lucky if he lays his head on your shoulder!

Illumi had been working out lately. He wanted to beat you in the “squish the melon” contest. He is very competitive and even if he lost, that doesn’t hurt his ego. Not in the slightest. Since it was just the both of you alone, he bends down to hug you tight, so tight that your face is squished against his.

This behavior is only surprising because he usually doesn’t coddle you even when you get hurt, but this time he realized that you could have died from the gunshot wound.

After that he kissed your forehead and almost simultaneously the doctor barreled in just missing the sweet moment between you and your beau.

Chrollo

When Chrollo is holding meetings with the Phantom Troupe, he always appears to be neutral. That is very important. A leader has to show strength even through the worst/hurtful times of their lives.

Chrollo had gotten a call from Nobunaga that you had gotten hurt on a mission and had actually gotten captured by the enemy. Phinks was able to get you back but you suffered horrible injuries.

This is protocol; they do this for any of the members. The troupe was oblivious to the fact that you and Chrollo were dating. They thought you were here to replace Uvo.

In situations like this, he is calm on the outside but screaming on the inside. Common sense will tell you if you are startled by the news you’ve just received and you begin to drive, you could cause more harm on the way to your destination.

Chrollo is very silent; he doesn’t call to check on your status or anything; he would rather see it for himself.

You were a trooper! After all, you are dating a dangerous robber.

Chrollo already knew what room you were in so he just went.

“I knew I should have kept y/n by my side. Y/n insisted on doing my dirty work that they almost died! How foolish could I have been?” He constantly cursed himself for letting his guard down with you.

He always gave you room to think and complete your own tasks but he can’t help his protective nature; one he has for the troupe but times 10.

His childhood friends had been shot by law enforcers, his home was horrific, and the last thing he needed was for you to be gone. You were keeping him afloat in society.

When he opened the door, Phinks was sitting in a chair, one leg over the other, laughing at a TikTok video.

Nobunaga on the other hand was watching the world news and seemed invested that he didn’t hear Chrollo enter the room. Once they both saw, they stood to their feet.

“Y/n is ok boss. They suffered a few cuts and burns, but they're breathing.”

Chrollo’s straight face remained as he stared at you.

Chrollo’s silence is something the troupe has internalized as a sign of anger, rage, or both. When he didn’t speak and just stared, everyone knew that their next mission was going to be a brutal one.

Chrollo is a man that isn’t afraid to express how he feels. He could cry right now if he wanted to and no one would dare laugh at him or insult him. After all, Nobunaga cried when he realized Uvo was dead.

Nobunaga and Phinks excused themselves as they saw him place his hand over his mouth.

Once the door closed, He pulled up the chair, grabbed your hand, and gently squeezed it. His warmth woke you up instantly and you turned your head. You winced in pain causing Chrollo to jump from his seat, moving to your right side so you wouldn’t turn your head too much.

“I’m glad you're alive, darling. What were you doing putting yourself in danger? Feitan could have handled the beast!”

He isn’t trying to doubt your ability to fight, he’s just concerned for your safety. Even so, why would he insist that you join the spiders?

A tear dropped from his face as he silently kissed your hand three times. You smiled warmly and placed your right left hand on top of his.

“I am fine, boss. You need not worry. I’m a trooper, remember?”

He placed your hand against his dry cheek and continued to kiss it. You were his lifeline and he wanted to spend every moment with you.

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oliviajdjarin · 3 years

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Chapter 6: A Jedi

Warnings: traumaaaa, lots of anxiety, like lots of anxiety, the reader really hates herself in this one, minor minor violence, references to violence, mostly just anxiety and hate.

Author’s Note: This is where the series starts to pick up, so I executed it as best as I could! I also went a little off canon with this one, so I hope it makes sense with the story. Thank you for any support!

Your journey to Sorgan was pretty smooth… but Mando was tense.

You tried your best to reassure him multiple times that this was the best choice for the kid and that you could help him with any challenge thrown at him, but he would just respond with a sigh and a solemn nod. So, you decided not to push it.

He had done even riskier missions on his own, so he can handle this one.

Once you arrived, you walked into the common house and met a woman named Cara Dune.

She introduced herself to you and she seemed very friendly, but when Mando mentioned that she was an ex shock trooper for the Republic, that is when you tensed up.

You had done things in your past that you knew would offend her. Not even offend her, but provoke her to strangle you alive. The fact that she was from Alderaan made it obvious enough that the Empire had hurt her deeply.

The only way to protect yourself was to hide who you really were, and your heart sank.

You felt like you had finally broken away from that way of life. The hiding, the anxiety, the fear. You felt like you could be yourself with Mando and the kid and not have to worry about that anymore. But the galaxy was cruel like that.

After the brief introduction, Mando proceeded to outline the plan and everything that the man on the recording (who you later found out to go by the name Greef Karga) had said, and Cara looked far from impressed.

“I don’t know, I’ve been advised to lay low,” she said, “If anyone identifies me, I’ll rot in a cell for the rest of my life.”

That makes two of us, you think.

“I thought you were a veteran,” Mando mumbled.

“I’ve been a lot of things,” Cara replied. “If I so much as book a passage on a ship registered to the New Republic-”

“I have a ship,” Mando replied, “I can bring you there and back with a handsome reward. You can live free of worry.”

“I’m already free of worry,” she said, “and I’m not in the mood to play soldier anymore. Especially fighting a local warlord.”

“He’s not a local warlord,” Mando replied, “He’s Imperial.”

You could see how Cara visibly tensed up at the word “Imperial.” If you weren’t scared of her before, you sure as hell were now.

“I’m in,” she responded, and you smiled at her.

She grinned back to you and asked, “Where do you fit in in this plan?”

You looked at the child in your arms and said, “My job is to keep the child safe. So I will protect him until he is used as the bait, and I will adapt to where he goes from there.”

“She can defend herself plenty,” Mando says, and Cara nods at you.

“I believe you,” she says, and you give her another smile.

I really hope I don’t let her down, you think.

~~*~~

Within the next hour, the four of you had arrived back at the Razor Crest.

Mando started the ship on track to Nevarro while Cara took a look at the weapon arsenal.

You watched as her eyes scanned over the array of options, and you couldn’t help but feel deep sorrow for her.

Her life was torn apart by the Empire, and now she was getting thrown right back into a fight. The fact that she wasn’t even going to join the mission before Mando mentioned that the client was Imperial made you nervous. She was not a woman you wanted to mess with, so you hoped and prayed you would stay on her good side.

The kid had somehow managed to make it to the controls and grab hold of the throttle, which made the ship veer abruptly side to side.

You ran to the child and lifted him away from the throttle while Mando stabilized the ship.

“Are you sure one set of hands is enough to watch that little beast? Worst case scenario, we made need y/n to fight with us. Maybe an extra set of hands could help,” Cara said, trying to catch her breath from running all around the ship.

Mando looked back at you and you nodded.

“She’s right. I can watch the kid as long as you need, but if you guys need me in a fight I can’t keep him with me. He could get hurt.”

Mando nodded and sat back down in the pilot’s chair.

“Looks like we are making a pit stop,” he said.

~~*~~

The Razor Crest landed on the property of a man named Kuiil. Mando said that he had helped him greatly in the past and he trusted him, and if Mando trusted somebody, you did too.

He greeted you with open arms and was incredibly nice. He led the four of you inside his humble home, and you never realized how long it had been since you stayed in an actual home.

Kuiil studied the child in your arms and said, “it hasn’t grown much.”

“What is your name,” he asked you.

“I am y/n. It is nice to meet you Kuiil,” you said and he nodded reverently to you.

“What about this one? Does she have a name,” he said, gesturing to Cara.

“This is Cara. She was a shock trooper,” Mando said.

“You were a dropper,” Kuiil said, and Cara nodded.

“Did you serve,” she asked.

“On the other side, I’m afraid. But I’m proud to say that I paid out my clan’s debt, and now I serve no one but myself,” Kuiil said.

The other side, you think. Kuiil served the Empire? And Mando had worked with him before?

You couldn’t deny the fact that this got your hopes up. Mando… working with the enemy.

If only he knew, you thought.

All of a sudden, the door behind Kuiil opened, and an IG droid stepped inside with a tray in his hands.

Mando immediately sprang to his feet and pointed his blaster at the droid. Cara joined him, and you blocked the pram the child was in with your whole body.

“Would anyone care for some tea,” the droid asked, and your eyebrows knit in confusion.

Weren’t these droids normally hunters?

“Please, lower your blasters. He will not harm you,” Kuiil said, obviously trying to diffuse the situation.

Mando, however, didn’t seem to want to go that route.

He kept his blaster pointed directly at the droid’s head and said, “That thing is programmed to kill the baby.”

You straightened your back at his words, blocking as much of the pram as you could, until Kuiil shook his head and said, “Not anymore.”

He then explained how he found the droid at a battle site and brought it back to his workshop. He decided to repair it, and then spent many days teaching the droid everything from scratch. It developed a personality, Kuiil mentioned, and it’s experiences helped the personality become unique to the droid.

“Is it still a hunter,” Mando asked.

“No, but it will protect,” he said, and Mando finally lowered his blaster.

There was no way Mando was going to let that robot anywhere near the child.

~~*~~

Later that night, you and Cara were sitting in Kuiil’s house while Mando was outside speaking with him, no doubt trying to convince him to protect the child.

“So what’s your story,” Cara asked, taking a sip of tea.

“Oh.. well… Mando picked me up on Tattooine. I worked there as a mechanic for a woman named Peli. It was a good job, but I wanted to get off that planet. I had lived there for a long time, and I wanted to explore the galaxy for once. It sounds cheesy, but I’ve always wanted to do that at some point. Mando agreed to take me with him on his missions in exchange for the child’s safety,” you say, and Cara nods.

“Nice. You made a living for yourself, and were brave enough to walk away when you knew the time was right. Most people never leave their home planet,” she says, and you nod.

“Yeah… I tried my best,” you say, and you try not to let your eyes darken. You didn’t like talking about your past. All it did was stir up old memories that you had worked to push down for years. You hated your past, and you didn’t know how well you could hide it much longer. Especially when you were being questioned by someone like Cara.

“The Empire… hurt me a lot. So, I am excited to hurt it back,” you say, and a big grin shows on Cara’s face.

She takes another sip of her tea, and looks up to find Mando walking through the door.

“Any luck,” she says to him, and he shakes his head no.

“Kuiil said that the droid can protect the child, but I don’t trust it,” he says and Cara chuckles.

“Yeah.. I think we got that,” Cara says and you smile.

Mando goes to sit down next to Cara, so she scoots over a bit to make some room for him.

You heard something hit the floor, and you realize Cara had knocked over your bag on accident. You had brought it into Kuiil’s house because you used it to store snacks for the child.

You stored other things in there too, and under no circumstance was anyone allowed to see them.

That was going pretty well, until Cara knocked the entire thing over.

“Whoops. Sorry,” she says and goes to start putting the items back in.

Your body is frozen in place and you feel like your lungs are being squeezed. Your limbs have turned to putty, and you cannot take your eyes off her hands.

If she sees it, I and dead. I am so dead

“It’s- It’s ok Cara. I’ve got it,” you say and start to stand up.

“No no it’s ok, I can-” she says, before her eyes widen.

She picks up an item and starts raising it to eye level, and you are just about ready to vomit.

Your saber.

You feel like your entire body is crumbling before her and she can’t even tell. Your breathing has become almost erratic and the sweat on your forehead starts to drip down to your eyes.

This whole experience, this whole journey with Mando and the kid could be completely undone right now. Everything you have hidden, everything you’ve buried, and everything you hoped you left behind on sandy Tattooine is staring you right in the face.

And Cara is….smiling?

“No way,” she yells excitedly, before laughing and smiling at you.

“No wonder you were so secretive about your past! You’re a Jedi,” she says.

You take a glance at Mando, who is staring at the saber, looking confused as ever.

Ok, maybe this is good, you think to yourself, trying to relax.

I can pretend I was a Jedi. Sure. I have basically the same training as them.

But who were you kidding. You knew that wasn’t going to cut it.

“A Jedi?” Mando says, and Cara goes into a whole tangent about how amazing the Jedi were. How they fought the Empire till their dying breaths and defended the galaxy. They had been betrayed by their own clone groups, and most of them died in Order 66.

“But you didn’t!” she said and smiled at you.

You managed a smile back, but you had to have looked like a psycho. You were in so much physical and emotional pain from the amount of anxiety flowing through you. You had felt out of control before, but this was more dangerous than you knew.

You were such an idiot getting your hopes up. Thinking that a Mandalorian actually cared for someone like you. How could you have been so stupid.

“Even the colors of the sabers are legendary,” Cara said. “Aren’t they y/n?”

You nod back, but you know what’s coming.

Your truth was about to shine throughout the entire house, reflecting back at you like some sick joke. And you were screwed. You were so screwed.

“Well, let’s see it then,” Cara said and ignited the saber with both hands wrapped around the handle.

“Wait” you scream, but it was too late.

The tears hit your eyes before she even ignited the weapon.

The deep, burning red saber was ignited, and there was no going back.

It’s burning, fire like glow illuminated Cara’s face, and a sunset like tint was shining on Mando’s armor.

He always looked so beautiful when light would reflect off of him, but not like this.

The red from the saber was vibrant, but you had never seen a glow as red as the anger in Cara’s eyes.

She knew what this color meant, and your identity was revealed in all its glory.

A Sith

Tag list:

@leahkenobi @pinkninja200 @bookloverfilmoholic @farfromjustordinary

#din djarin #mando #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian #din djarin imagine #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #din djarin fluff

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jaskiersvalley · 3 years

Note

Your safari au. Please. I need it. Water my crops with tigers and hyenas and witchers. Grabby hands and pleading faces in abundance here.

You are after my heart, Nonnie. And considering I've only talked about the Safari AU on Novigrad, I will happily assume you're lurking on there and I love you for it. Tweaked a little to add in a hyena just for you.

Lions and Tigers and Bears

Taking over a park was no easy feat, especially not when it came with a reputation like Nilfgaard had. Eskel scratched his head as he poured over the various financial reports, wondering just how much of it could be trusted. The problem was Nilfgaard had been a shining beacon in the animal conservation world, exceptional facilities, high enrichment for the animals and a successful rehabilitation rate. If there was ever an animal in need of a place, Nilfgaard had been first choice for years. All that came tumbling down in light of the revelation that Nilfgaard had been trading illegally, their animals sold to private owners as exotic pets or, even worse, hunters who wanted a guaranteed, easy kill. The place had been shut down immediately, a skeleton crew kept on to tend to the animals but nothing more. Management was on trial and Kaer Morhen had won the bid to take over. Though small and mostly unknown, nobody else had wanted to touch the remnants of Nilfgaard so they were quite uncontested in their bid. What had seemed like a good idea at the time, an noble because it was in the interest of the animals, now was an absolute headache.

Between the three of them, Geralt, Eskel and Lambert could split most of the urgent work. They had Jaskier working on rebranding, Yennefer managing the board and Vesemir as the head. It left them free to run the day to day of the park, learning the animals as well as the people who they had kept on. But they were going to need more people to actually help the place flourish and regain its standing in the community. Which meant asking the heads of departments for who should be kept on and what roles to recruit for from scratch. The easy ones were things like hospitality, Zoltan had a firm grip on the needs of the park and its visitors, knew all the catering firms and how to run a tight ship. So it was one less headache for them. Eredin had stepped up as Head of Security readily once it was proven he had no knowledge of the animal smuggling. Again, his familiarity with the park was a boon, as were his connections, putting together a security team that could be trusted. Much more messy was the animal welfare section. Fringilla, much like Eredin, had stepped up to become interim Head Zookeeper and was doing her best. While they were understaffed, Geralt, Eskel and Lambert helped out where they could but much of their time was spent getting to know the routine of the park and its many animals.

"We need to know who we can trust," Lambert grumbled, leaning over the table where they had personnel files open. "It's impossible to know who was in on things and who wasn't."

Though, in all likelihood, none of the lower level workers knew that when they helped usher one of their beloved animals into a crate, they weren't sending them off to another facility or a happily ever after. But it was something they just couldn't risk.

"May I?" Fringilla asked, eyes roving over all the files. At Geralt's gesture, she began pulling some of them out. "You'll want Triss, she was a vet here, promote her to senior or chief or whatever you call it. She's solid. And Sabrina, she's great, works well with Triss. Retain Istredd, Mousesack, Calanthe and Eist too. oh, and Letho for the reptile house." As she spoke, she kept looking with a small frown.

"Missing someone?" Eskel asked. Nodding, Fringilla frowned. Without much care for manners, she walked to the cupboards and began pulling out files until she hit the folder of resignations and terminations. From there, she pulled out one last file.

"You'll want him."

The folder was taken from her and the three peered at it with varying levels of frowns.

"You want us to hire someone who was terminated for gross misconduct? Whose notes suggest he abused animals and has blacklisted from working with animals?"

"No. I want you to meet the whistle-blower. Cahir's the one who found out about the trafficking and reported it. Nilfgaard didn't take kindly to it and retaliated."

Not sold on the idea, Lambert crossed his arms over his chest. "His file doesn't look exceptional. Personally, if he applied for a job, I'm not sure he shines enough to even be called in for an interview."

It was a sentiment echoed by the other two and Fringilla had to fight to hold back a sneer. "Invite him in and judge for yourselves. Just because his record doesn't have a quantifiable or gradable measure of commitment doesn't mean he won't be fantastic. If we ever have a new animal in that doesn't need to stay hospitalised, I wouldn't want anyone but Cahir to help settle it in. Especially the younger ones and babies."

Against their better judgement, the three decided to follow Fringilla's advice and e-mailed Cahir an interview offer. The reply was terse but assured them that he would be there at the agreed time.

First impressions were, to put gently, not great. Cahir looked rumpled, bags under his eyes and his attitude was rather sullen. It didn't bode well as they sat in the office, Cahir an odd mix of defiant and subservient. At least Fringilla had the grace to push the interview forward as much as she could until even she sighed and leaned back.

"Why don't we walk through some of the enclosures? Make sure you still remember what's where."

As they walked, Eskel ended up next to Cahir, who seemed content to not talk. That didn't stop Eskel from trying to initiate conversation.

"So, what have you been doing in the three months since you left here?"

"Tried to survive."

The blunt answer had Eskel blinking, there were many things he expected but not that. "Oh?"

For the first time Cahir actually looked at him, sadness bleeding through his half glare. "I used to live on site, worked for Nilfgaard from the age of 15, took a full time post at 18 and moved into the small cottage in the southern corner of the land. They fired me, I lost everything."

An uncomfortable silence settled between them as Eskel tried to figure out just how much of Cahir's so story was an exaggeration. "Have you been living with friends then?"

"For a few weeks, yeah." Cahir actually scoffed. "I've been trying to get a job and living in a hostel off savings. Turns out, only having in-house qualifications does not bode well for prospects in the world at large."

Fringilla led them into an enclosure where the grass was high. From the looks and smells, Eskel would have guessed it was a tiger's habitat but he wasn't familiar enough with the park yet to know. He would have hesitated going in, especially in a group like they were but Eskel had to trust Fringilla as she came to a stop and they stood in a loose circle.

The house Cahir had mentioned was one Eskel was familiar with. They had often wondered why it was empty yet well kept. It had felt like a life interrupted when they had a look round, nothing personal there yet it didn't have the empty, unlived-in feel of a show home. In a way, Eskel was regretting just how poorly Cahir's interview was going because he could easily see them offering his house back as part of a contract.

"So why are we here?" Lambert's words broke Eskel's reverie. "I thought we wanted to go on a walk."

It was by pure chance that Eskel caught Fringilla's smirk at Cahir and the slightest softening of that stern expression in return. Clicking his tongue, Cahir shot Lambert a look. "Tell me, have you ever been stalked by a tiger before?"

"No."

"You sure about that?" Cahir clicked his tongue twice and the world burst into motion. From the long grass a tiger pounced and Eskel was not ashamed to admit he let out a surprised yell. He wasn't the only one though, Lambert gasping, hand at his mouth and shoulders up as the tiger took Cahir out. They went tumbling and only Geralt looked like he might lurch into action, taking half a step towards the animal and Cahir. It would have been hopeless though, the two were wrestling on the ground until Cahir was on his back, tiger hunched above him.

The first thing Eskel noticed was how Cahir's face was creased into a happy grin. He looked younger, relaxed and happy ever as the tiger licked a large stripe from jaw, up his chin to his hairline. All Cahir did was laugh.

"Yes, yes, I missed you too, Princess," he said. fingers loosened from the fur in the tiger's neck and petted along her nose with the ease of familiarity.

"What the actual fuck?!" Lambert all but screeched. "What the fuckity fucking fuck?"

Eskel had the sense to look to Fringilla for answers, even if he wanted to watch Cahir with the tiger. The change in the man wasn't something he could have predicted. Gone was the sullen, defensive and standoffish air, replaced by an easy smile and a look of serene happiness as Cahir looked at the tiger, checking her over out of habit, muttering about dirty ears and mucky paws as he went.

"That is what you won't ever learn from a CV and qualifications," Fringilla said. She was absolutely looking smug. "Princess came to us at 9 months old, from a circus. Had terrible separation anxiety and a host of other issues too. She wasn't doing well despite our best efforts. At least, not until Cahir took her home and cared for her during the nights rather than leave her in a hospital cage. He introduced her to independence, slept out in the open with her for a few weeks when she was ready to transition to outdoors." Much more quietly, she added, "She's not the only animal he'd done that for. To find out some of his beloved children have been sold hit him hard. I don't think I'd ever seen him cry before then."

Turning back, Eskel watched as Cahir was sat on the ground, tiger with her back to him. The slightly strained "oh no you don't" from Cahir was lost as the tiger pushed up onto her hind legs and flopped backwards. Had she been smaller, Cahir would have probably caught her like a baby. As it was, he grunted as the weight crashed across his legs and he had a happily chuffing tiger's belly to tickle.

"I assume you'd vouch for him?" Geralt asked.

"In a heartbeat." Fringilla grinned at Cahir but it was lost on him, so focused on Princess as he was. The others might as well have stopped existing. That was the moment Eskel knew his heart was in danger. It didn't get easier as time went on. Hiring Cahir was proving to be a good decision. He just got on with the work, never finding anything distasteful or below him to do. If it needed doing, he got it done.

Over time he opened up too, Eskel found himself wandering down to the southern corner of the park to the little house that was now full of life. He got used to Cahir usually having a baby or two in his care. Sometimes he babysat for Letho's hatchlings, content to have baby snakes trying to look around his arms as they learned how to cope with being handled. The friendship between the two was one Eskel couldn't claim to understand but they seemed to make it work.

"Knock knock," he announced himself by the open back door.

"Come on in," Cahir called as he wandered out of the kitchen. "I'm just finishing making dinner, care to join me?"

That was new too, Cahir was inviting Eskel into his life more and more. It made Eskel feel even better about what he was planning to ask at Fringilla's instructions.

"I wanted to talk to you about tomorrow. There's a new arrival that we think will need your assistance."

Cahir cocked an eyebrow and held up an empty plate in question again. At Eskel's nod he began loading. "Anything you can tell me about it?"

"Not much. Private collector got raided, had a few animals in his less than tender care."

"So they'll be part socialised, part traumatised. I can work with that."

Somehow, Eskel had no doubts about that. But he was holding back some information because Fringilla had told him to keep it a surprise. The next morning the transport van rolled in, a small group of them ready to handle the newest arrivals. There were a couple of pythons for Letho to bring into his fold, a parrot for Guxart to train into swearing. Last was a large crate. As interesting as it was, Eskel's eyes were on Cahir, the way his nostrils flared as he caught scent of the hyena. The box opened and the animal cautiously peered out.

"Dave!" Cahir exclaimed, all semblance of quiet professionalism gone as he hopped off the top of the crate he'd helped open.

If his reaction had been exuberant, it was nothing compared to the hyena's. They collided next to the box, all over each other.

"I missed you buddy." There were tears running down Cahir's cheeks as Dave alternated between butting into him and running tight, excited circles around him before settling down and trying to bodily press into him. Glancing up, Cahir gave Fringilla a wobbly smile. "How did you find her?"

Her? Last Eskel checked, Dave was a male name. Still, he wasn't going to interrupt the tender reunion with such a dumb question.

"She was part of a collector's hoard. Didn't have the right permits so he was made to give her up to those who could offer her proper care."

A broken "thank you" was whispered in her direction before Cahir buried his face in the hyena's neck. Eskel watched with so many questions. Thankfully Fringilla didn't miss that fact.

"She was born in captivity, originally assumed to be a boy, needed to be hand reared after mum rejected her. She never understood that she wasn't human and as a result has spent most of her life living with Cahir. We've tried so often to introduce her to a pack but she never took to them, content to stay with them for a day, two at a push before she starts pining. When Nilfgaard sold her, that's when Cahir got suspicious, did some digging and realised she hadn't gone to another park. So Dave is a catalyst for this whole fiasco if you will."

Watching them, Eskel nodded. He had a hyena to befriend if he wanted to keep Cahir in his life it would seem.

#pre-Cahir/Eskel #fringilla vigo #cahir mawr dyffryn aep ceallach #eskel #lambert #geralt #safari au #tldr: nilfgaard is a disgraced safari the kaer morhen idiots take over

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iavulture · 3 years

Text

I ruined "Nightmares Never End" by JT Music with Google Translate and this happened (Long post + my commentary on the translated lyrics)

If you've never listened to "Nightmares Never End" by JT Music or watched any Google Translate Sings/Twisted Translations videos, please do so! The latter videos are very funny and help provide some context for the rest of the post.

As for the languages that I used for the translated version, I used Scandinavian languages such as Swedish (because Tarsier Studios is a Swedish video game development company), Norwegian, Icelandic, Finnish, Danish, and (because of the general aesthetic of LN1) Japanese. And yes, I went in the order of English -> Swedish -> Norwegian -> Icelandic -> Finnish -> Danish -> Japanese -> English.

Also, spoilers for the games (esp. Little Nightmares 2) ahead!

-------

Nightmares Never End (with Google Translated ver.)

Original by JT Music

My commentary for the translated version:

Hey, Tarsier! Is it possible if you can delete the crappy timeline where Six lets go of Mono? Perhaps make a better one where everyone wakes up just as the sun rises?

*stares* Um, that’s dark even for Little Nightmares standards, Google Translate. (Seriously, what were you thinking, Google Translate?)

A doll that looked like it hanged itself is a disturbing image to picture. (Unless this is referring to a Hanging Man plushie, but who would want that Google Translate?)

I don’t remember the Hunter using a bow and arrow, but, um, that’s an interesting obsession to have. Also, are you on air or water?

You went out of the woods only to go back in again. Also, you are very healthy, given that you mentioned it twice.

Ah yes, once you’ve trained not to be afraid of anything and are ready to conquer your fears, you eventually get hungry. This is probably true of Six.

Hunter, you need to get yourself a knife unless you want the Flesh Walls to come after you.

Also, Hunter, is it okay if I bring my pet mouse to your house?

Mono/Thin Man, you better have some bleach if you’re to sit in the Tower for a while and see some of the more… interesting fanfics and fanart of you (and Six/the Lady).

Technically, this line rings true if you go with the time loop theory.

Six: It was dark in the Tower, okay?! I couldn’t hold onto Mono’s hand right without a light!

Are you having an identity crisis, Six?

I didn’t know Monster Six was the epitome of perfection, but okay.

Did this line just summarize the premise of the movie 9?

That’s rough buddy.

It bears repeating that adults have a tendency to bite (and certain children too). Also, there's a reference to the chapter selection of Little Nightmares 2.

Has anyone done a Little Nightmares magical girl AU yet? It comes at a price, though…

They have social media sites in the LN ‘verse now? I mean, there’s a Twitter account, so…

No shit, Six.

You don’t need to ride a bike to know that you fail at life.

Yes, all of the dolls! As if one wasn’t creepy enough already, Pretender.

Ooh, a duet by the Lady and the Thin Man. Now fight! And kiss and maybe get a room. (I have no idea what discrepancies have to do with this.)

Maybe you won’t be lost anymore if you don’t sleep and hear lullabies.

I think I know what kind of hidden sin you’re talking about, Google Translate. *nudge nudge wink wink*

Eh, close enough. Just switch the order of the words around.

Please make sure to keep the lights on unless you want a devil to take your hand in the dark.

“In the night, the stormy night, away he’d fly… A dream of para—” Oops, wrong song.

I’m guessing the dreamer has a liar for a proxy.

So the dreamer is lying about all nightmares being over… Aw man, I had such high hopes. Wait, are the dreamer and the liar the same person? Is this Mono/the Thin Man?

Yes, I’d like to be where my dreams are instead of reality sometimes. That’s what escapism is.

When you mean “I’m done,” does that mean you’re awake?

Smoking PSA time! Yes, Mono, please stop smoking your cigarettes. Did you know that smoking impairs your ability to have REM sleep and therefore the ability to dream?

Why yes, that right over there is a sine wave.

I don’t know if I’ll have assurance unless someone can tell me if we’re talking about the fish that are called rays, light rays, or geometric rays.

I mean, I guess with enough string you can make a noose?

The Teacher is good at playing this game.

Google Translate, why did you suddenly become a bit of a fanatic here?

“... dangerous! She’s got what it takes to make ends meet—” Wrong song again!

Then get lost, Six!

This is a spoiler for pretty much every Little Nightmares game.

Meet who?

You mean a leech, Google Translate?

The HOA’s worst nightmare: suspiciously pristine lawns.

How dare you entities who only transform into meadows for attractive sheep! What have the average-looking and unattractive sheep done to you?

Hm, maybe because they’re sheep?

Damn, you’re pretty confident about killing all of those sheep. (Mmm, lamb chops.)

I hope Mono/the Thin Man and Six/the Lady don't come after me.

#little nightmares #little nightmares 2 #long post #google translate #jt music #translated lyrics #my commentary #this is meant to be a joke #blame google translate for the weird lyrics #MAW-21 things #ln2 spoilers

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raetos · 3 years

Text

Homecoming

(( Co-written with Vandrir’s player <3 Tagging @darkestfable and @brent-sunborn / @thefugitivemango for character mention.))

~*~*~

Raetos stretched out once he set hoof down on the stone platform. The gryphon ride from Darkshire to Stormwind had gone smoothly and uneventfully, but these weeks of work had left him tired and sore; nothing a good bath and some time spent with his mate wouldn’t fix. That, and some much needed sleep as well. He hadn’t told Fable about the early leave he’d gotten. Things in Duskwood had settled down in the past week, enough so that he was able to take a bit of time off. Of course, the Lightforged had decided that the best way to announce the good news to his lover was by surprising him!

He wondered how Fable would react to the surprise. The Blood Hunter was probably hard at work, updating some old map at this time of the day. Surely, he wouldn’t mind being led away for an evening. Raetos tail swayed happily behind him as he made his way down the stone streets and into the forest, his heart pounding as he went up the trail and their nice little cabin came into view. Everything appeared how he’d left it, at least from the outside. It had only been a few weeks, but it felt like much much longer. Light, it felt so good to be home!

As he approached the door, he’d already started unstrapping his armor. It wouldn’t be staying on much longer, that much was for certain!

“Babe, I’m home!” he called as he walked in.

Vandrir’s ear perked up at the sudden voice, then eyes darting back down as the green feathered fluff darted out of his arms toward the sound of hooves. He pushed his hair back behind one relatively short ear as he got to his feet with a slight frown.

“I will venture a guess that you are Raetos then…” His voice was calm but not unfriendly. He stood in the doorway glancing down at the excited ground parrot as the little creature told his other daddy aaaalll about it while making circles around the Draenei.

“--Uhhh…. Yeah?”

Raetos’ head tilted to the side in confusion as a complete stranger greeted him… but not as enthusiastically as Obligation. The flightless bird looked well and happy, not at all frazzled by this new person, which brought the Draenei to conclude that this must be a friend of his partner’s.

He shook off the confusion and knelt down, allowing his small pal to climb up his arm and onto his shoulder as he looked around for any sign of his lover. Finding none, he eyed the other man. Reatos was terrible at telling the different elves apart, but he was guessing this one was a Night Elf from the size of him..

“Sorry uh… we haven’t met yet, right? Who are you?”

“Ah, no, we have not. I am Vandrir, and your um... companion asked me to look after the two little ones while he was away.” Concern flashed briefly across his face before he resumed his calm facade.

Reaching a hand down to touch the sleepy head of the tiny doe who had joined them at the sound of voices he continued, “He said that there was a small job, a dig, in Feralas and that he would be gone only a few days...three weeks ago.”

The Draenei visibly relaxed as the stranger finally identified himself. He didn’t want to assume, but finding another man in his house had been… more than a little alarming.

--but not as alarming as the news that came next.

“Wait what…? Three weeks?!”

It wasn’t unusual for Fable to go off on a dig, or to lose track of time. Raetos was actually happy that he’d found something to occupy his time with… but to be away for that long without a word to anyone. Raetos tried not to worry, but three weeks to complete a dig that should only take a few days was… rather extensive.

“Bah… I’m sure he’s fine,” he said, though it was hard to tell who he was trying to convince, Vendrir or himself. Worry was evident in his tone, “I mean… he’s always getting distracted by his work, so like… Maybe he found something else at the dig site that led him elsewhere?

He didn’t really wait for an answer, already making his way over to the Blood Hunter’s work area and looking over maps and journals he’d been studying before leaving.

“Still uh… probably best I go check up on him. Feralas, you said?”

Vandrir gave an unseen nod as he drifted after the other, the sound of tiny doe hooves and birdy feet the only steps that made a walking sound.

“Yes, Feralas. He did not mention exactly where or what sort of items he was searching for.” The night elf gave a heavy sigh, “I suppose you would like me to continue to watch the two little ones then?”

He gave the doe a little push to send her off to play as he hurried on, “Not that I mind of course. It is just that I hadn’t expected to be in someone’s home for this long. Maybe your boyfriend just got lost or something?”

“Fable doesn’t get lost,” Raetos mumbled as he continued to scan through the notes, his finger traced the area mentioned in the notes. Tearing a blank page out, he began to scribble down coordinates and markers to look out for.

He glanced up at the Kal’dorei, however, an apologetic look on his features.

“--Ah… yeah. I need someone to watch these two while I go find him. You have a place of your own you wanna take them, where you’d be more comfortable? Maybe your place? You have a place, right? I mean, you can stay here, it doesn’t bother me. Whatever’s easier for you, I mean…--Oh shit! What happened to you? Did Obligation set something on fire?!”

That last part was added as he finally took notice of the terrible burn scars on Vandrir. In his panic over Fable, he hadn’t noticed the wounds that took up at least half of the Night Elf’s face… and probably more.

Vandrir took several seconds to just blink slowly at Raetos as the draenei seemed to be getting his ramble into full gear. A frown twisted as the verbal brakes were slammed and he reached up to push his hair back again, the eye on the side with the burns clearly dimmer than the other. His voice was almost harsh as he blurted out his reply, the words somewhat clipped, “No, he...he’s been a pretty good bird, a little unhappy that I won’t let him jump off the roof. I’ll just stay here if you don’t mind, Responsibility and Obligation will do better in a familiar setting I think, not to mention I can keep an eye out for the two foxes.”

The frown didn’t leave his face but his tone did soften, although it was clearly with effort, “This happened when the tree burned. Some things just don’t heal well I suppose.”

“Oh shit, you’re -that- kind of elf!” Raetos winced as he realized his verbal misstep, “Man, I can never remember which elves live where. Sorry about your tree. It looked really nice… from far away, anyway. I never really got to visit and see it for myself before… you know… Whoosh!”

He used his hands to motion the ignition of a fire, as though the visual was needed. There was a rather awkward silence for a moment, before he cleared his throat.

“Yes...I’m that kind of elf. Uh glad you liked how it looked from afar?” He gave one sharp shake of his head, like an animal tossing off a fly buzzing near their face, even letting out a soft huff at the same time.

“Yeah… uh. You can totally stay here. Our home is your home… until we come back. But hey, if there’s anything you need after all this, you let us know, okay? We owe you for taking care of the animals.”

As he said that, Obligation attempted to fly off the desk, promptly falling to the ground.

“Especially him.” “Do what you need to do. I only met Fable once briefly, but he...made an impression, a good one. I look forward to your return. We’ll laugh about how he got stuck in a cave or something.” He gave a ghost of a smile, “Don’t worry about paying me back or anything, I’m happy to help out people that I would like to think could be friends.”

“Dude, trust me, you’re already a good friend doing this for us,” the Draenei went about packing up a larger backpack. He hoped to be able to fly in close to the dig site with a gryphon, but he didn’t know for certain. He’d only been there once before, and Fable had been the one leading. Raetos had mostly just been admiring the scenery and taking in all the tidbits of information he was being fed. He made certain to bring enough for a good hike, if required. And of course, he couldn’t forget the first aid supplies, just in case.

“We’ll all have a good drink and laugh together soon enough. You’re right though… getting caught in a cave makes sense… I’m sure he’s fine… Yeah… he’s fine.”

Again, it was hard to tell who he was trying to convince. Worry was clear on his features as he kneeled down to welcome the feathery ball of energy into his arms, giving Obligation a final cuddle before handing him back to Vandrir.

“Thanks again. We’ll be back as soon as we can.”

Vandrir got a gentle but firm grip on the feathery terror, knowing the parrot was likely going to try something any moment, “You are welcome. I’ll take care of things here, just stay safe yourself.”

His voice was calm again, confident and somehow soothing. The kind of tone that said everything would be fine. “I’ll keep the kids out of too much trouble.”

Raetos would have naturally gone in for a hug. Light knew he needed one… but his interactions with Brent had left him weary about embracing strangers. And while he trusted Vandrir, he didn’t know the man’s boundaries yet. He swallowed hard, and with a final nod, turned and left, closing the door behind him.

There, he paused, his tail flickering behind him, the backpack feeling horribly heavy. He wanted to get to Feralas fast, but at the same time, he was afraid. It had been a long time since Raetos had felt like this, and there was a sense of dread that he couldn’t quite shake off. He had no idea what he would find at that digsite. And while he hoped for the best, something told him to prepare for the worse…

With a heavy sigh, he set the first hoof forward on his venture towards finding his mate.

~*~*~

#Character Story #Raetos #Vandrir #Fable Darvale

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queen-of-the-avengers · 4 years

Text

For Better or Worse

Characters: Vampire hunter!Peter Parker x Vampire!Reader

Word Count: 2,024

Warnings: kind of fluff? but mostly angst, vampire shit

Summary: There are vampires and vampire hunters. Vampires fear the Parker and your families. They’ve taught you everything you need to know. But there is one thing they don’t tell you... what happens when one of you turn into one?

Squares Filled: vampire au for @marvelredteambingo // “i don’t believe you” for @spider-man-bingo // gods and villains for my first card of avengersbingo // hero complex for my second card for @avengersbingo

Author’s Note: If you have any requests, please send them in! This is unbeta’d and any and all mistakes are all on me.

Feedback the glue that holds my writing together

Tags at the bottom

The world is a dangerous place. There are creatures that run amok that only cause death and destruction. Yes, you're talking about vampires. They are creatures of the night with a thirst for blood. Your family has been hunting them for centuries. What you know, you've learned from them. You've killed approximately ten vampires in your life, all of them bloody and violent. You've never met one who was actually nice or wasn't thinking about blood.

You know everything there is to know about vampires. Your family taught you how to kill them, but your best friend taught you how to understand them. Peter has been there for you ever since you could remember. His family and yours are notorious vampire hunters. Even non-vampires fear you.

It was hard growing up and transferring to different Schools. People were scared to make friends with you because they knew what your last name meant. Teachers wouldn't fail you in fear of getting fired, lunch lady's gave you the best food because they knew what kind of weapons your parents had. The principal let you get away with almost anything. Everyone treated you like you were the monster; All except Peter. He treated you like an equal.

Both your families moved around together so you and Peter were always together. He made life bearable. He's the one to show up on your dates when you got stood up. He’s the one to go shopping with you when the other girls wouldn't. He was even your Prom date when no one asked you. He's the best thing to ever happen to you, and you don't know what you'll do if you ever lost him.

Speaking of, you're on your way to his house right now to binge-watch whatever's new on Netflix. It's dark and late, but you're only a few blocks from his house. This is the perfect time for vampires to strike, but you're not worried one bit. Your mom would kill you if she knew you left the house without any protection. but vampires knew better to stay away from the town where the Y/LIN and the Parker clan live. Your families pretty much ran the vampires out of town and scared the remaining ones in to not coming in. Plus, you're two minutes away, and then you'll be safe in the arms of Peter.

The alley you're in is dark and gloomy, but you see the light at the end of the tunnel. Once you pass through that, Peter's house is only a block away. You're halfway through the alley when you hear someone scratching their nails against the dumpsters. You look back only to see no one there. You just want to get the hell out of here, so you turn to run, only to smack right into another person--man.

"Where are you going?" he sneers.

Years of kicking vampire ass and long-ass training sessions with your family made you prepared so that you can kick anyone's ass, including this "tough" man. However, when he smiled, you can see the moonlight shimmer off his newly cleared fangs.

Shit.

"What? No witty comeback about how I need to savor this moment because you're going to kill me?" he laughs. "What about you telling me that your hunter friend lives right around the corner so he's going to come save you? Hmm?"

"You must not know who I am. I'm part of the YI LIN family. And that "friend" you mentioned is part of the Parker family."

You didn't know what to do since you have no weapons on you. You just hope he's dumb--or smart-- enough to run away.

"I know," he laughs. "I watched you leave your house... weaponless. Your friend, well, one of my friends is making sure he's distracted enough. Don't worry, she won't hurt him too much. Now, It wouldn't be fair to kill you without giving you some kind of edge. I'm a vampire, not a monster. So, I'll give you to the count of ten before I sink my fangs into your neck," he lets go of you. "One, two, three..."

It takes you three seconds to realize he's not joking. You take off running as fast as you can. All those training hours at the track better not fail you now. You're not sure how much distance you've made, but you're not about to look back now.

"Seven, eight, nine, ten," the vampire grins.

He's on your ass in a second, and he drags you back into the alley. You scream for help, but he's clasped his hand over your mouth. His chest is pressed to your back, and that gives him perfect access to your neck. Curse you for putting your hair up. He leans down really close to your ear and speaks with hatred.

"I was going to kill you, but your family has put mine through so much pain. You think you know what a vampire is? Reading all those books has got you prepared, huh? Think again. I'm not going to kill you. I'm just going to turn you."

He sinks his fangs into the side of your neck. Pain flourishes from the initial site and spreads a burn throughout your body. You squirm and thrash in his arms, but he's got you pretty locked up. He takes enough blood from you to keep you calm and still, then he shoots his poison into your body. Each vampire stores enough poison in their fangs to turn one person each. Turning humans into vampires is so uncommon because vampires save their poison for people they love and want it. Turning someone out of spite is n't unheard of, but it’s unlikely. You guess you're just one of the unlucky ones.

The vampire pulls away when he's finished, and your blood drips down his chin deliciously. You drop to the ground with a loud thump, but the vampire just stares at you. He smirks and takes out a white handkerchief to wipe away the red crimson. Only until there is no more white left to be seen on the small cloth does he drop it next to your body.

"Let's see how well you do as a vampire. You think you know us, but you don't. None of you do. Now, you're going to see what it's truly like to be one of us," he finishes and walks away.

The alley is quiet, no one is coming to save you now; not like they could if they wanted to. The damage is already been done. What little blood you have left seeps onto the ground in a pool next to your head. All is quiet until a few seconds pass. The wound on your neck starts to heal itself as the poison works its way through your body. Every imperfection you thought you had goes away as the poison tries to correct what's been flawed. Your hair becomes fuller and shiner, your body becomes thinner and toner, your eyes become a shade brighter, and your blood becomes that of a vampire's.

You take your first breath in ten minutes. The world is different than what you knew. Everything Is brighter and clearer. You can hear things from miles away. You can smell things that have been buried deep within the earth. Everything is changing for you, especially your bloodlust. You turn and go back the way you came. There has to be something you can eat. The good thing about being a hunter is knowing where and how vampires get their blood. The bad thing is you're no longer a hunter.

You never made it to Peter's house.

Being a vampire isn't what you were expecting. Everyone has always said vampires are ruthless monsters, but you don't feel ruthless or monstrous. In fact, you feel like yourself only with heightened senses. While you do have a craving for blood, the people you've been staying wins have shown you ways to drink blood without hurting anyone.

You were kind of nervous to talk to other vampires because of who your family was, but they were all so welcoming. There is a rule that it doesn't matter where you come from, you'll always be accepted. You didn't know this was a rule. There's a lot of things you didn't know. The vampire who turned you is n't speaking to you, but it's a good thing. You don't know whether you'll thank him for turning you or strangle him.

While you're still getting used to drinking blood now, your life isn't all that different. In fact, you're a better person than you were before. Vampires have all these amazing powers and abilities that you use them to help. For example, you volunteer at the hospital now since your blood can heal others. It can 't heal major diseases like cancer, but you do what you can.

Being a vampire isn't all that bad. They aren't monsters, just misunderstood.

Now all you have to do is tell Peter and you're good. Fuck telling your parents. They've been lying to you ever since you could comprehend what the word "vampire" meant. You can 't keep this a secret for much longer, so you’re on your way over to his house right now.

"Oh my God, you're alive," Peter says when he lets you in.

"What does that mean?" you ask nervously.

Did he somehow find out about the attack?

"You've been MIA for a couple of weeks. I finally see you only when you want to talk. Is everything okay?"

"Yes and no. look, there is something you should know. I'm not sure how you're going to take it, but please don't hate me."

"YIN you're scaring me. What is it?"

"A few weeks ago when I was supposed to come over for Netflix night, I was attacked. By a vampire."

"What the fuck? Are you okay? Why didn’t you tell me?" he exclaims.

"I want you to know that I'm okay. Nothing about who I am has changed," you beg him to listen.

"YIN, what happened?" he asks slowly.

"Maybe we were wrong about vampires. They're not monsters. We only thought that because that's what our parents taught us. We don’t know them."

"You were turned, weren't you? I don’t believe you," he voices his fear.

Instead of telling him, you show him. You open your mouth and slide your fangs down. As soon as he sees this, his whole demeanor changes. Gone is the playful adventurous guy you knew only to be replaced with the hard and scary version he only presents in front of vampires.

"Get out," he says with a stone-cold look.

"Peter, it's still me. I'm still your best friend. I haven't changed. I'm not dangerous; I never was," you beg.

“You don’t understand vampires like I do,” Peter says calmly. “They’re vile, evil creatures. If uncontained they spread like a disease.”

“You do know I’m standing right here, right?”

Peter looks at you with an expression almost unrecognizable. This isn’t your best friend, and you’re not so sure you’ll ever get him back.

“Are you?”

”I’m still me! I haven’t hurt anyone. I’m volunteering at the hospital. My blood heals people, Peter. Does that sound like a monster to you?”

“If not now, you will hurt. Vampires are natural predators. It’s in your nature to hunt and kill. Now, you’re lucky I haven’t put a stake into your heart and I will if you don’t leave within the next five seconds. One...”

You don't give him another second before you're speeding out of there. You only went to him because you thought he would be understanding. You two have been together since you were in diapers. How can he not see that the person you are now is the person you once were? You guess whatever his parents taught him is stuck deep within himself.

Whatever the case may be, you lost your best friend.

You got new ones, but they'll never be him. If he can't accept you for who you are, then you guess you didn't know him at all.

If you want to be tagged, add yourself to this document! If your tag doesn’t work, find out why!

@awkwardfangirl2014 @kendall-michele @gh0stgurl @miraclesoflove @sammypotato67 @justalonely-nerd

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letterstothemidnightsociety · 3 years

Text

It’s 2020 and my anxiety level is so high, I grind my teeth while I’m asleep and awake! But let’s ignore all that and instead focus on critically analyzing America’s premiere soap opera for monster hunting! It’s Supernatural!

As you may have already guessed, I watch a lot of TV. And in the Year of Our Troubles, 2020, when I’m encouraged to stay home and indulge in my favorite pastime for the health of the nation, I watch a hell of a lot of TV. When you watch that much TV, you start to notice the rhythm and the flow of how seasons of television progress. You probably notice it too, even if you don’t think about it as much as I do.

Like, you know that episode that happens right near the end of the season where all the characters are happy? They’ve overcome a whole bunch of obstacles and they’re finally winning and they can see that light at the end of the long tunnel? You know the one I’m talking about. That’s the moment that you, as an audience member, know things are about to go downhill very quickly

Like when Poldark smiles over something and you’re just like, ah yes, I’ll prepare for the funeral.

Season 1 of Supernatural is like a case study of the rhythm that makes a network show work. There’s this wave effect throughout the season, building the tension up for a few episodes and then sliding through the next handful. Look at the first five episodes: they’re all about holding our breath, we’re gasping at every new turn - death and ghosts and monsters and Family Drama and Bloody Mary and PREMONITIONS AND THEN we let it out over the next three.

Aaaaaaand exhale!

This first season especially, but I’d argue the first three definitely, you can see this pattern repeated over and over again - building the tension, ramping the horror, bringing it to a major Mythos or Series Arc Moment and then releasing all that tension with a cool-down filler/self-contained episode.

And that’s where I am in the show now. We just had a major series arc episode with “Shadow” - John finally reunites with his sons, the villain is revealed (Meg and also the demon that killed their mom), and the endgame (for this season at least) is in sight. BUT! We’re a network show with 22 episodes to fill, and we can’t just head straight into the Finale Fight now, we’re only on episode 17! I mentioned in my last post that getting the team together again for all of 6 minutes and 44 seconds (yes, I did go back and count) felt like a slap in the face. I assumed it would have something to do with Jeffrey Dean Morgan’s shooting schedule, but looking at it again, it probably had more to do with the fact that it was too soon to bring John Winchester back as a major player.

So our next episode, our breather episode after all this High Drama, should feel a little disappointing to anyone caught up in the arc of the season. But. BUT. But. The next episode is “Hell House."

Yes, this is a filler, but this is filler done RIGHT. I mean maybe it’s just cuz it’s 2020 and I’m very tired and sad and scared all the time, but I was SO HAPPY to see Ed and Harry again, guys you don’t even know. Guys, the GHOSTFACERS ARE HERE!

And man, I am SO glad that this is a recurring side team that shows up throughout the series. Pease no one tell me that they die in a later season, I’ll find out eventually, I just can’t handle it now.

They are the anti-Sam and Dean. They have no idea what they’re getting into, they have no idea how to hunt anything, but they’re here to get famous and that’s just...it’s beautiful guys. Just beautiful.

Plus, you have this soft b-story line where Sam and Dean get to be Real Brothers for a hot second and prank the shit out of each other the whole episode. It’s like even Sam and Dean are saying, yeah, we need a break from all the feelings, let’s put itching powder in each other’s boxer briefs. I want to say that I was really annoyed the first time I watched this and did not care for these shenanigans, but this time around, it was a REAL JOY.

I’m also not mad about this.

And this breather feeling sort of carries over into the next few episodes. Sort of.

“Something Wicked” is another feelings-heavy episode. Backstory! Child-eating Monster! Tiny!Dean! I think Dean maybe cries again? Or just does that thing where he stares into the middle distance, all pain and torment and chiseled jaw line and I’m doing it again, I’msorrynotsorry.

You know. THIS face.

All of these things lead to an episode that has a lot of character development and strengthens the bond between Sam and Dean. Sam literally validates Dean’s whole existence by apologizing for fighting him on this job and then saying “I know I’ve given you a lotta crap for following Dad’s orders, but I know why you do it.” It’s a lot. It’s a big moment from Sam, who hasn’t really reconciled with John yet and who’s still hoping for a future that isn’t all about killing every evil sonuvabitch they can find. It’s a big moment for Dean, too, since his main motivation is protecting his family and (from his limited point of view) that family keeps trying to leave him. And while we do get some insight into the f-ed up childhood that was forced upon our eponymous heroes, there’s nothing really driving the season’s plot forward in this episode.

Same goes for “Provenance”. This episode is another good horror episode. I mean, even if that painting wasn’t possessed by a murder orphan, it is deeply haunted and I hope props burned it when the production wrapped. And what is it about ghost children particularly that’s upsetting? Is it the size? Is it the fact that their eyes are too big for their heads at that age? I mean, it probably has something to do with perverted innocence and goodness blah blah blah, but also their hands are tiny and so all the knives look bigger.

Same, Sam.

Aside from that, Sam gets another nice growth moment where he gets to imagine a world after Jessica. He’s been so fixated on finding Jessica’s killer - I’d argue more so than his mother’s killer albeit they are the same entity. That’s not a judgement against him, mind. He knew and loved Jessica, he did not know his mother, so I’m not mad about that character decision. But the show is really wrapping up the Jessica plot line because that won’t have legs in a season 2. And that’s harsh, so I’ll temper it with the fact that Sam, as a human being, is getting to the final stages of processing his grief and starting to move on with his life. Plus, I think that Dean wingmanning his brother is adorable and I love it. Good Brothering, Show!

But nothing in this episode has anything to do with the killer Sam’s been fixating on, so there’s no progression for the season’s main arc.

Last but certainly not least on this disc of my season 1 box set is “Dead Man’s Blood.” My notes on this episode include the key phrases “I’m pretty sure this episode is...dumb?”, “ I...do not care for vampires,” and then like, two lines later, “Nope. Still don’t care for these vampires.” They’re just making up some random-ass lore and their fashion sense is SO 2006 and I just...I just hate them.

I hate them SO MUCH.

BUT! That’s not the point of this episode. The point of this episode is to point us towards the season finale. FIRST, we start to see a little bit more of the world that the Winchesters inhabit. We actually meet another hunter, Daniel Elkins. He dies immediately, but that’s a cold open for ya. And when Sam and Dean go to investigate Elkin’s death, John comes back, this time for good (haha, lol). We get a real taste of the family dynamics in this episode - John and Sam fight and come together and fight and come together and Dean’s standing there kinda like, SPONGEBOB!

You know, Plankton! Krabs! Dean Winchester! Right? Anybody?

All sides have good arguments, and I appreciate that none of the conflict between the the three of them feels forced, or at least, it doesn’t feel forced this watch. The fights all come from deep character places that have been established through the whole season. They’re natural progressions of what we’ve come to expect of these characters.

And finally, most importantly, John knows how to defeat the demon that killed their mother. Enter Deus Ex Colt Revolver.

Colt Revolver Ex Machina?

CAN I just take a break for a second to say that BOTH Elkin AND John were ready to WASTE PRECIOUS COLT BULLETS on VAMPIRES, who can be killed IN OTHER WAYS?? Listen, you make a magic gun that only works with these like, 5 BULLETS, and then you just THROW AWAY A BUNCH OF SHOTS, GUYS??? ALSO, what the HELL does Haley’s Comet and The Alamo have to do with this STUPID GUN??? I JUST- you know what, we don’t have time for all that.

Attaining the Colt is the brick they drop on the gas pedal to drive us into the season finale of season 1.

Wasting a some PRECIOUS F*CKIN’ BULLETS, GUYS.

When you look at the season’s pacing at the outset, it seems like it shouldn’t work. I was that person who felt disappointed in each episode where it became clear we were definitely on a side quest, not the main quest. Watching it now, though, I think that pacing is important. Yeah, the Monster-of-the-Week episodes are a little hit and miss, but sometimes you have to think of a TV season like a marathon and not a sprint. There will be times when you pick up the pace, yes, but it’s a long race and you’re gonna need some periods of recovery if you’re gonna make it to the finish line. And frankly, a lot of those side quest episodes ended up being my favorite episodes of the entire series.

NOW. I doubt you would see this sort of structuring in a show today, specifically in shows that don’t get a 22 - 24 episode order. You MAY get, MAY, a Ghostfacers-type episode thrown in after a major emotional climax for that breather effect. MAY. But if Supernatural was made today - probably for an online streaming site, probably with only 10 - 13 season order - I don’t think you’d see episodes like “Something Wicked” or “Provenance” or “Faith”. The nice thing about short seasons is that you can keep the storytelling focused and tight, but I also think that can be a weakness as much as it is a strength. What do those three episodes all have in common? They’re strong on character and relationship development. We, the audience, get a deeper understanding and appreciation of the Winchesters and how they work and grow as a unit in these episodes. So if we’ve watched this far, through bugs and ghost trucks, through all their little victories and major setbacks, we’re well and truly invested in how the season is going to end.

I’m not saying you can’t have big character moments in a shorter season. And I’m not saying that a show more focused on plot, on the What Happens rather than the Who It Happens To, is a bad thing. But watching this season over again in comparison to present day television seasons, it’s highlighted what Supernatural did right. On this side of the series, it’s easy to see why the show went on for another 14 years.

#Supernatural #Supernatural Season 1 #Sam Winchester #Dean Winchester #John Winchester #Hell House #Something Wicked #Provenance #Dead Man's Blood #cw #WB #Televsion #Television History #15 SEASONS #And this is where it all started

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jwslw · 3 years

Text

A silly story that just kinda popped into my head

The idea for this popped into my head while I was at work and I slapped it together over the course of several hours. I don’t think I’ll do anything else with it but, I thought I’d share it.

A Traveler from a Different Hungary

On Friday, June 12th 2015, a fatal vehicle accident occurred on 10th South Avenue in Great Falls Montana. As one of the busiest streets in Montana, fatal accidents are not uncommon and in the modern world many would sadly not regard it as worthy of notice were it not for the strange state of the victim and the strange interest paid to the case by officials from Malmstrom Air force base.

At ten o'clock that morning, a man named Antal Kovács was struck and killed by an oncoming Semi Truck. After a lengthy investigation by the city police the driver of the truck (name withheld to protect his privacy) was cleared of any wrong doing, maintaining to this day that he did not see Mr. Kovács until he hit the poor man. What I don't believe he has ever told anyone is just how literally he means that.

Mr. Kovács was rushed to the city hospital but, pronounced dead on arrival. Amongst the man's personal effects were a back pack full of period costumes, a wallet containing a large amount of currency of unknown origin, cards and paperwork identifying the deceased as a citizen of the (seemingly no existent) Greater Slavic Confederation, a ten shot .32 pistol of unknown manufacture, a journal written in a slightly archaic form of Hungarian, and a 12inch by 12inch by 4inch electrical device resembling a CB radio, but, it was seemingly damaged in the accident as the investigators claimed they were never able to make it work. Linguistic experts at the University of Providence were consulted to translate the journal but, nothing was ever publicly revealed, beyond the experts' assertion that the journal seems to have been part of an elaborate hoax.

While it is unknown when the personnel at Malmstrom became involved, several anonymous sources that claim to be connected to the police force insist they were called in after the journal was translated, only to confiscate everything as a matter of national security.

Now I suppose we come to my part of the story. I am a small time writer and academic in a small northwestern town, about a year ago, I began researching this story on a whim after a journalist friend of mind directed me to the case. Well she calls herself a journalist, the rest of us call her a conspiracy vlogger but, she does occasionally find some fascinating, and frightening things. For most of that time I felt like was repeatedly throwing myself at a brick wall. Everyone I contacted would either directly tell me that the story was nothing more than an attempted hoax gone wrong, or act like they knew something only to point me to another person that would. I had become quite discouraged until two weeks ago when a mysterious package with no return address arrived in my mail. To my surprise, it contained a manuscript that perported to be the translation of Kovács journal, with a note that read, “This is the translation as best as I remember it, the Air force took the actual journal and the translation as I'm sure you know, still I don't think anyone cares about the event anymore, so you should be able to publish it yourself if you would like--- A friend”. I do not know if I believe this story, but, I present this it here for the public to read and decide for themselves.

The Research Journal of Antal Kovács

Pages 1-18: Seem to have been forcibly ripped from the book, possibly as a measure of secercy.

Page 19:

Date; 11th March, 2010

I have finally succeed, after ten years of work, ten years of failures and set backs, my time travel device is finally complete and functional. I have yet to test the device on myself, but, test runs with the device and a camera secured to both inanimate objects and animals has shown that the spatial dislocation and automatic recall mechanism are functioning within desired parameters, however I still can not send the device into the future. I will have to run more tests, but, I should be ready to time travel myself before the end of the month.

Pages 20-26: Strings of calculations seemingly to solve the issue of not being able to travel forward in time, page 26 reads, “the calculations say I should be able to do it but, all attempts have failed.”

Page 27:

Date; 24th March, 2010

I have completed my first trip, I traveled backwards in-time 72 hours and trans-located from my home Sopron to Madrid Spain, and then back again with the automatic recall. I remained in the past for six hours, purchasing souvenirs and eating dinner, before returning to my home, as I have observed with my previous tests, using the automatic recall spending six hours in the past means returning to the present six hours after I left, tomorrow I will test the manual return mechanism.

Date; 25th March, 2010

Success, at 12:00 I went back in time almost a full year, spending a week in Naples Italy before returning to the present at 12:05. All tests indicate that a it takes four minutes to fully transition between time periods and I am not yet ready to see what will happen if to versions of myself exist within the same space/time coordinates.

Page 28: Scribbled calculations and shopping notes for the next trip

Page 29:

Date; 9th April, 2010

Close call “today”, I departed from my basement laboratory for intent on spending a month in the 11th century exploring the Congo region. However, upon my arrival I startled a formation of tribal warriors seemingly preparing for a battle, my sudden appearance caused much excitement among the assembled warriors, with much shouting and gesticulations in my direction. Finally the warriors seem to have come to the conclusion that I was a good omen and set off for their battle. Unable to contain my curiosity I followed the tribal warriors at what I hoped was a safe distance (as an aside, no it is not easy for a man who has maintained a mostly sedentary life, keeping up with a group of hunter gatherers is not easy). When we reached the battle site, the warriors I had followed engaged their enemy, the battle lasted for over two hours and while it seemed at several points that what I had come to think of as “my” warriors, would win the day, their opponents eventually drove them from the field. I don't know what what the survivors were saying as they retreated towards me, but, I really was not eager to find out.

Page 30:

Date; 22nd April, 2010

Was captured by a gang of bandits while exploring 13th century Ireland today, fortunately they were much more interested in the coins and food I had assembled for the trip and I was able to slip away while they squabbled over the “spoils”. Other than that it was great trip, and I was able to gather a significant number of covert digital photographs of daily life seven hundred years ago.

Pages 31-34: More calculations, at least two pages were heavily water damaged

Page 35: A hastily scribbled note reading “It seems the Western Interior Sea Way covered more of Cretaceous North America than geologists think.”

Page 36:

Date; 2nd June, 2010

Three near misses today, first I accidentally transported myself into the nest of what I believe was a Megalosaurus. Upon fleeing back to my lab, I made preparations to travel to ice age Siberia, where I was attacked by cave lions. Finally I traveled to 14th Century France where I was immediately spotted and pursued as a warlock. I may need to obtain some form of self-defense if I am to continue my explorations.

Page 37:

Date; 9th July, 2010

It took some effort but, I have obtained an army surplus bayonet, 7.65mm pistol and 11mm lever action rifle for trips to less settled time periods.

Pages 38-50: Several pages rendered unreadable from dried blood possibly caused by the accident.

Page 51:

Date; 15th September, 2010

I had to shoot an actual Neanderthal today. I was wandering the ice age Germany documenting the wildlife when I accidentally interrupted a Neanderthal hunting party, spooking the deer they were stalking. There were three of them, and all of them charged me, I fired two shots into the air which startled two of them but, the third kept charging, so I began to give ground until I was backed into a corner and I had to shoot him. I don't know if I killed him or not, I simply fired on him till he collapsed and I transported myself home.

Page 52:

Date; 1st August 2011

I have put off using the device for almost a year, and yet in that time I have never told anyone about my device, there is something I must do first. My own fumblings do not seem to have harmed history in any significant way. But, what if someone that truly wanted to alter history were to get there hands on my device. I have a plan I will go back to 1922 and assassinate Nikoli Simonov, the leader of the Russian army during the great war and the reason that Belarussia is not part of the Confederation today. After I have assessed the good or harm done by this action, I will return to 1922 and stop myself to see what happened.

Page 53-54:

Date; 7th August, 2011

I don't know were to begin, I just don't know were to begin. I traveled back to 1922 and, just as I had planned, I assassinated Nikoli, I watched him for weeks until I had my opportunity, and I took my shot. I narrowly escaped the guards and transported my way back to 2011, only to learn that in this new time-line, Nikoli's replacement proved to be an even more cunning tactician and the Confederation was crushed. I spent weeks or months of subjective time leaping from battle to battle, watching the battles, watching how different post war international politics changed. Finally when I felt I'd learned enough, recorded enough, I returned to 1922 Russia, ready to stop myself. I searched all of Moscow, but, never found myself. I was confused, I clearly still existed in this time-line, my house was full of my things, many of my friends still existed, they recognized me, they made the same comments about how withdrawn and hermit-like I'd become, that they made in my original time-line. Confused I returned to 2011 once again. When I returned the world was exactly as I left it before setting off to kill Nikoli. How can this be, every other point I jumped to was clearly part of my new time-line. Did my alternate self simply not embark on my grisly task? This will take further research.

Pages 55-60: More formulas, strange flow charts and seemingly unrelated strings of words

Page 61:

Date; 10th June, 2015

I have done so many things, if I have a soul it is well and truly damned. I burned down Doctor Alverez laboratory before she could begin her ground breaking research into radiation, I shot down the Chinese inventor Hu Xiang as he made his 1900 flight, I prevented Dr Grosman from formulating the theory of relativity, and so much more. Everytime the same result, I come back to an altered 2011 or 13 or, I don't even know any more, I've aged my self almost twenty years while only four have passed. And every time I jump around from decade to decade to see what has changed, only to finally go back to stop myself and I'm not there, but, when I return to the present, everything is as it should be. I think I have finally gathered enough data to reveal my invention to the world, but, I must perform my last experiment. I will alter the entire course of the Confederation, and its so simple, every school child knows the story, in 1213, Agoston Juhász, the man who would become the first leader of the Greater Slavic Confederation was riding through the Carpathian mountains and came to a fork in the road, one leading higher into the mountains the other leading into a pleasant valley. He chose to take the high road and that night a land slide wiped out the valley. My plan is to simply go back in time, convince him the high road is blocked. Once I've seen all I wish of the alternate future I have created, I will return, and my alternate self will never arrive.

Well, that's were the account ends. Is it true, damned if I know, I do know that Agoston Juhász means “Exalted Shepard” in the Hungarian language, and I'm not even certain if either word were in use as names in thirteenth century Hungary so take it as you will. As for me I'm going make sure my security system hasn't been mysteriously deactivated.

----Efrain Phelan, freelance writer

#fiction #time travel #original characters #alternate history

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coolingdownanddrawing · 5 years

Photo

heres some idea’s for redesigns along with some bulletpoints on what I was thinking for story stuff involving remaking the series

Im having trouble reading off the screenshots so Im gonna write it out under the cut along with probably adding some ideas or expanding on the bullet lists (future me here: I wrote a Lot)

Sam Manson:

-Rich Activist, meaning she’s kinda blind to some troubles going on or doesnt full understand how others are doing financially, along with being raised in a house with people who arnt exactly empathetic and more focused on appearances then worker rights, sam can come off as shallow to others doing activist work.

it could be a really interesting character arc for her to realize some of the things going on outside of her school and plants that she can help with, along with dealing with that sense of helplessness she feels at being to normal to help anyone she expresses in the show.

-Goth, but cheery? One thing i noticed in the show is how overall cheerful sam can come off while toting goth ideal’s, which may be a part of why she isnt shown to have many goth friends with them seeing her more as a poser becouse their teenagers and teenager Be like that sometimes.

It’s not a problem in my book but it could be fun to see tucker or danny question it when in goth spaces and sam basically saying the truth that you dont have to be miserable to enjoy dark subject matter. maybe with tucker and danny getting a small interest in some of the “lesser” goth stuff sam introduces to them.

-fights everyone, becouse teenager with boundless energy and Ghosts attacking all the time. sam didnt fight much in the original series and thats a shame.

-facinated by ghost, becouse duh

-I was kinda thinking of her and tucker being introduced by them competing for class president, becouse that seem’s like a position both would be interested in and it be more interesting then having tucker face dash

Tucker Foley

-Likes to influence others is a general statment, but its true tucker likes to be involved in other peoples lives and generally have his oppinion affect people in possitive (or negative) ways. he likes seeing that his involvment matters and he suffers when people ignore him or take his oppinions for granted and id love to see stuff centered around this trait

-level 1 leader/planner, sorta connected to the influencing people thing I think tucker really would thrive in leadership roles that danny just isnt suited to handling, big mobs of people and sam on his side and he is a force to be recond with. Tucker thrives in getting big groups of people to side with him esspecially since technology profficientcy isnt a sign of weakness in this day and age.

plus him working on his public speaking lines up with his motivation of wanting to be attactive to ladies.

also Having him working on public speaking stuff and general people person scenario’s gives a lot of reason for the group to interact with the A listers in a less hostile scenario

-tech god I guess, becouse tucker foley

Dan Phantom

-Incarnation of discomfort being the unintentional (At least the first time) fusion of a stubborn 14 year old and his crazy 40 year old father figure with very different morals and oppinions makes existing very, very akward for dan, but great comedy fodder!

-dan is able to have legs or a ghostly tail whenever he pleases unlike vlad or danny, becouse I figured it be a good way to make fights more interesting and their fighting styles different becouse I want more vlad involvement and having them be extra different types of ghosts makes watching either of them fight much more interesting

-wishes to not exist, esspecially in the presense of either danny or vlads love interests becouse WOW thats akward

-WAAAAY more powerful then danny and vlad, partially becouse making dan a final everything is going to hell desperate final action for danny and vlad would make dan’s appearances more interesting but also becouse of difference’s about vlad plasmius and danny phantom I will talk about when I get to them.

Dan Discomfort Masters

-“Vlad’s nephew” becouse if you’re meeting this guy stuff has gone horrible wrong on the de-fusing front and he needs a reason to be in either fenton on masters house hold to get whatever he needs to fix the ghost catcher

- big ol liar pant’s, partially becouse danny and vlad are Huge Liars but also becouse of the whole, I need shit to stop existing

-Trying to keep it together becouse he’s probably made to interact with people vlad and danny have Opinions On and honestly he cant decide if he wants to viciously prank jack at every oppertunity or punch himself for thinking of being mean to jack, among other such mixed feelings.

Vlad Masters

-Certified genius due to a number of thing’s including his obession, and becouse being smarter then jack makes him happy and if jack ever expressed interest in a subject He Must Be Better, he might not be trying to kill jack becouse he doesnt want to deal with a ghost hunter ghost for who knows how long but he wont be lesser then jack in ANYTHING.

-fruitloop, still has some backwards logic and morals such as having valarie become a ghost hunter to offer a sparring buddy to danny and whats a better motive to shoot at someone then they ruined their life right but he’s generally such a over the top bird brain trying to show off to everyone that fruitloop is the only description he can be given.

-less evil is a Big Thing, he’s still objectively not a very good man but I want him and danny working together and sharing a roof on the weekends but that means not shooting first and asking questions later on site, so a less evil vlad is needed, plus it just generally makes there interactions more fun and less dangerous which is what im going for, since walker can take over a lot of vlads antagonist role in the story plus danny and vlad making agreements to get stuff out of eachother sounds like a hell of a lot of fun, i liked eye for and eye vlad sue me.

- as a side not I want vlad to be a lot less physically fit and practiced with doing things as a human, seeing him as a man who lords his power over others when he can he prefers relaxing and working as plasmius more then masters, which affects his health and serves a purpose in story for a lesson id like made after watching phantom planet last night

Vlad Plasmius

-loving guardian in that he really, really does want to be a good father and mentor figure to danny even if their relationship is rocky due to long standing lies he’s been feeding him and how tight a grip vlad has on his familys financial health. as well as the whole snatching partial costody as soon as costudy was called into question after dannys accident (Ill get to that) vlad’s babysat in the past for the fenton which is part of it, along with his desire to be better at jack in every aspect.

-great implorer, in which he likes to get minions when he can and usually only grumbles if his minions already have plans when he calls for them, pays great by ghost zone and human standards and usually offers a full health plan, though skulkers case that full health plans is for when he gets his head up his ass and thinks he can actually get either danny or vlads pelt, one of skulkers suits is on vlads lab wall with a nice hole where its face should be as a reminder to those who cross him.

-only legs, meaning he uses 100% more kicks and ground based attacks then danny and can kick below the bet where danny cant, this plus his fire core making him have to get creative lest he burn his surroundings to the ground has him fighting in a very different way to danny, along with his 20 years of experience. vlad tends to fight ghosts with less reason to leave the ghost zone, and invading lairs to get what he wants, leading to more serious encounters then what danny faces in the begining.

-loves dramatics, becouse vlad plasmius everybody he’s a cookyier villian here

-less evil and more ruthless and efficient to those who get in his way, that arnt who percieves as family

-Plasmius’s obsession is teaching people lessons, in all the good and horrible ways that can imply. halfa’s have more broad and less restrictive obsessions then other ghosts which makes them more dangerous and able to ammas power.

Danny Fenton

-Fenton works heir, which is played up a lot more in this with vlad backing his family and giving them chances to disgrace themselves on public telivision and get shamed out of wherever their currently living, leading them on a series of moves throughout dannys life before amity park show off their inventions to the world! Since Jazz aggressively refused the role it fell on danny and he actually takes it pretty seriously, believing as a little bab in ghosts and being convinced of their evil from a young age by his parents which you can only imagine does great things for him when he becomes a halfa and learns unkie vlad is one as well.

-has been haunted by the creepy ghost boy title his whole like due to his situation and the fact he is usually made to assist in showing off his parents weapons publicly as a apprentice ghost hunter, one such invention was the fenton portal that had a wire loose during the presentation, when he went in and put it back the doors automatically shut him in and jack and maddie didnt notice he was in there still until the screaming started, this led to some public outcry over weather jack and maddie are fit to raise kids and vlad swooping in for partial costudy of both fenton children “to ease the masses, and besides he’s basically helped raise them anyway whats garenteed weekends at one of vlads places going to do?” it was a sucky situation.

-bad reputation due to general protectiveness of his parents along with terrible social skills, along with his new trouble of hiding and controlling emerging ghost powers.He doesnt leave a initial good impression on sam and tucker when he first meets them as fenton, and people tend to avoid him to keep away from his parents wierdness anyhow.

-is less good in the traditional sense but wants to keep people safe and happy if he can help it, though its argueable if thats simply a manifestation of his obsession or if its just becouse he’s a sweet kid, once he gets it into his head that ghosts arnt always evil he tries really hard to be nice to ghost too and even tries to save them from his parents when he can. putting his neck out for them.

Danny Phantom

-just wants a lair is a shorthand for wanting to just experience regular ghost things when he’s going ghost, he’s less inclined to fight every ghost he see’s unless their actively hurting people and tries to talk them down, not wanting his afterlife filled with enemies when he officially keels over.

he has big dreams for a super cool lair of his own that are explored upon the one time he’s split apart by the ghost catcher, mostly becouse phantom rips the door to his room from its hinges and zooms into the ghost zone as soon as he’s out, found aimlessly wondering helplessly looking for the PERFECT location to start building. he tends to day dream about the lair of his dreams in class.

-no leg’s leading to more air combat and trying to immobalize people with his tail, usually fighting fairly though with his moments of cheap shots in partiicularly deadly battles,, he usually fights people like johnny 13 who mess with people then he does generally harmless ghosts like box ghost in the begining, plus with his in development abilities that include a versatile ice core his fights are more strategy then sheer beat down or creative weapon making (or heating whatever metal the ghost is wearing to the point of insanity)

Danny also has this little problem where he “died” in a anti ghost hazmat suit made of stuff to weaken and harm a ghost who comes in contact with jack and maddies little boy and it means its harder on him to access his powers, taking more energy to do things that most ghost would find easy like intangibilty and invisibility, which is a major problem for him esspecially at first, danny’s only made aware of this though vlads help and their working on a way to trick the hazmat suit into changing material with what danny was wearing under the suit, since its being difficult with changing on dannys command, he can put stuff over and under the suit but the suit itself is hard to make budge. the outfit shown above is after danny learns how to at least add stuff over it with vlads help.

dan does not have problem’s with the material of his costume making him have access to all dannys abilities easily, along with vlads experience and power and dannys creative thinking dan gets the nickname of the ultimate enemy with good reason

- Loves exploring, esspecially the ghost zone its so interesting and full of enteraining characters and the food is Amazing at least in ghost form and vlad’s show him some pretty incredible places in the zone when they agree to work together in the sense of vlad stealing madde and jacks thermoses at the end of fenton fights and danny helping him spelunk in the ghost zone, its a guilty pleasure to be able to show sam and tucker around when they become friends, natural portals are a tempation danny has a hard time ignoring when he see’s one, much to his loved ones annoyance. wolf is a terrible enablr of a friend.

- due to his obession with proving himself (its the wording i go with now i might change it to something like control or being loved) danny tends to want people to like him and seeing a opertunity to get them to like him sorta throws him off balance and out of fight mode, usually leading to him cuddling up to them, in phantom form dannys a great cuddler. take caution though he’s been known to trick enemys into thinking he’s gone out of fight mode and either shove them into the nearest portal/thurmos or later freezing them where they stand. dannys terrible with crowds, esspecially crowds of people who dont like him he freezeses up.

Danny to-tired-to-function (school and not working with parents danny)

-cant wait to to graduate, with no plans to go to college becouse he’s not paying for more hell

-is really in a bad place socially and mentally in the begining, but will become a lot happier once he befriends sam and tucker, though before that he tends to do some pretty desperate and embarrasing things to get attention and has a problem with letting people drag him into trouble on the promise of friendship.

Danny’s Chore’s list:

-deadly laundry with ectoplasm contaminated laundry machines to content with

-helping whoever wants to cook, cook, or being in charge of dinner most nights unless someone else wants to cook (breakfast is jazz’s job, maddie and jack are gently discouraged from cooking, jazz and danny usually or use to just grab take out for lunch if they had time)

-cleaning the lab

-dishes with ecto contaminated dishwasher are always a little dangerous damn appliances and their wills to reak havoc, jazz likes to help make sure it doesnt hurt anyone since its more dangerous then the laundry machines

-assembling weapons with parents for the vault, or incase of a huge ghost invasion so everyone has a chance at a weapon, danny usually just assembles the less dangerous stuff that doesnt require a lot of welding

-general house maintense, vacuuming and window cleaning while jazz mops and dusts

-jazz cleans the weapons vault after learning dannys secret becouse its a lot less dangerous for her then for him and hes infinitly grateful

AND DONE thats some of my thoughts on what could be done with a re design of the characters and story beats listed, im tired of writing now but enjoyed getting this out

#danny phantom #danny fenton #sam manson #tucket foley #dan phantom #vlad masters #vlad plasmius #lot more words then normal

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emmaschoutenwrites · 4 years

Text

The Mistbeast of Blackwood Forest

Lin. A little town at the edge of Blackwood Forest, lost in the outreaches of Voyenne, home to less than two thousand people. The entire economy here relied on the hunting of animals and the collecting of plants. Furs would be traded for other goods from all over the Voyenne, the plants would be exclusively sold to the mages of Magikan.

What Feyre saw did not impress her in the slightest.

Lin. A cluster of houses built haphazardly on the shores of the Grande Elle river, looking as prosperous as any town haunted by a mysterious beast. Dusk had painted the sky in vivid tangerine, soft peach, and darker magenta before gradually slipping into the dark blue of the approaching night by the time Feyre made it to town. In the failing light, she watched intrigued as people kept their heads down while hastily making their way through the emptying streets. Shutters were closed and doors locked. Only a few had noticed her cross the bridge, none cast a single glance at the great pine forest that surrounded the town on three sides.

She guided her horse through a muddy street to a square. There was a well at its center, with benches arranged around it in a circle. Flower pots added a touch of color, though they were in desperate need of some water. The houses that lined the square were mostly dark, all lights hidden behind wooden shutters. A few had a sign above their doors; a baker and a butcher, a blacksmith and, there, tucked away between two more prominent buildings, an inn.

She made for it.

Feyre had been inside a number of inns over the years; it could not be avoided when one traveled as much as a Shadow. Never, in her six years on the road however, had she seen one so quiet; especially one that doubled as the local tavern. No noise drifted out of the building; the windows were shut tight, no patrons walking in and out, singing and shouting. Her feet landed on the ground with a dull thud, which sounded particularly loud in the quietness.

Frankly, the place grew duller by the minute.

She tied the horse to a post and headed inside.

The drinking room was nearly as empty as the lack of noise had led her to believe from outside. A man stood behind the bar, wiping down its surface, a barmaid stood at the other end, watching the handful of patrons who occupied the place. An old man, who did not let go of his cane even for a second, sat at the same table as two middle-aged men, both of whom looked tired and worn out. Two younger men sat at each end of a long table. A table that should have been filled entirely with rowdy clients in any ordinary tavern. Only the nearest man looked up when the door fell closed behind Feyre, otherwise her entrance went unnoticed.

She approached the bar and cleared her throat. The barman flung his rag over his shoulder and looked her up and down. He took in the cloak as black as night, the black shirt and the brown doublet, the leather straps crisscrossing her chest, holding at least three throwing knives in clear view, the dark leather pants and the weapons belt around her hips holding more weapons, the lace-up boots. His wide eyes traveled back up her face; she waited for the man to get over the shock of coming face to face with a Shadow.

"What can I do for you, miss Shadow?"

Feyre would never get used to the tremble in a grown man's voice at the mere sight of her. She was not particularly tall. Her long ginger hair and a face full of freckles were not what she considered particularly frightening either. Yet, the sight of the dark clothes and the weapons, each stamped with the Shadow's crest, announced who she was and did so as well as any herald.

"I would like a room."

"Certainly," he nodded frantically, calling to the maid at the end of the bar. The sudden hectic activity had caught the attention of the others in the tavern. She could feel their eyes on her. The maid came over and exchanged a few whispered words with the man before she disappeared up a set of stairs in the back of the room. "You will have to forgive us for not having a room ready. We don't get many travelers in these parts, you see."

"That's fine. I'll have a glass of mead while I wait."

The road to Lin had been long.

She dropped onto the nearest stool, studiously ignoring the eyes on her back. The barman served her a tall glass of pale mead with a shaky hand. "Thank you kindly." While Feyre never sat out to spook the locals, she had discovered years ago it gave her a sense of pleasure; a little light in the dark business of a Shadow. "I have a horse outside; are there stables where I could house it?"

"Of course, we have them around back. I will take care of it right now."

The man left in a great hurry, allowing the Shadow to enjoy her drink without his fearful gaze trained on her. Sure, the others still watched her but she could ignore them. Or, well, she would have tried until one proved to be particularly brave and took the seat next to her. She turned her head to him curiously as she drank. He was one of the younger men. Skin tanned by the summer sun. Hair bleached to gold. Eyes the color of Arncaster Lake at high noon. A child of summer if she had ever seen one.

He could be no more than twenty-five. Those shocking blue eyes flitted back and forth between her face, her empty hand on the edge of the bar, and the knives strapped to her chest - at least, she hoped they focused on the knives. A light stubble covered his chin and cheeks. He folded his bare forearms on the bar and allowed himself to lean forward a little, gaining a clearer look at her face. She looked him in the eye, wondering if he would be bold enough to hold her gaze.

As it turned out, he was.

"Are you here to deal with the Mistbeast?"

She arched an eyebrow; the Lightless had not given her a name for the beast they had sent her to deal with. How many monsters could there be in Blackwood Forest though? Surely they were one and the same. She nodded. The young man's shoulders sagged in obvious relief.

"You could have come sooner," one of the other men called out.

Turning in her seat, she stared unwaveringly at the man. It would take little more than the blink of an eye, she mused. She could be out of her seat and at his side with a knife pressed to his throat in a snap. It would frighten him and allow her to work in peace. Instead, she opted for the second option. "I could leave again, if you are not happy with me," she suggested. "Please feel free to file a complaint with the Order of Shadows."

Feyre moved to rise from her seat. The one beside her immediately grabbed her arm and pulled her back down. Her eyes shot to him, sliding down to his hand on her. He immediately released her. "We are glad to have a Shadow here." No one was ever happy to have a Shadow in their midst; it meant secrets might be exposed, it meant people might die. However, considering what had brought her here, these people might actually be the first in history to be happy to see a Shadow.

"Tell me about this Mistbeast," she urged.

The Lightless had had few details to give her; the last thing Feyre wanted was to walk into Blackwood Forest unprepared. If this man was so glad she was here, let him help her. The barmaid came down and put a small iron key down in front of her without a word. The other men had quieted but still watched the Shadow at the bar, albeit more carefully and surreptitiously.

"The Mistbeast is a creature that has roamed the Blackwood for generations now. At first, the lumberjacks and the hunters would catch glimpses of it deep into the woods. Their stories say the beast is as tall a horse but moves through the forest with the swiftness of a Shadow. It is as deadly as a wolf. None who have faced it have lived." She nodded, though old wives' tales weren't what she needed. "It used to live in the deepest parts of the forest. We left the Mistbeast alone and it would leave us alone."

"Not anymore," she guessed.

He shook his head. "A group of hunters tried to catch and kill it. They failed and were killed instead. Since then, it has attacked all those who venture too deep into the woods. Recently, it has been coming closer and closer to Lin. At night, we can hear its howls. Some claim to have heard the Mistbeast walk through our streets, sometimes growling but otherwise silent."

"They are not just claims, boy! It's the truth," the old man interjected.

Feyre nodded again. No animal would come into a town of any size if it didn't have to. The only reason this Mistbeast would leave the cover of the trees would be a lack of food elsewhere. Considering the trade of furs had neither increased nor decreased, Feyre assumed there to be plenty of prey within the forest. Could it have come to town for another reason?

"How regularly does a party set out to hunt it?"

Because the town couldn't afford to remain passive when its livelihood depended on those woods.

"The last party left only two nights ago. None have returned. They are probably all dead."

In all likelihood.

The barman came back in, white as a sheet as he slammed the door closed behind him, locking it for good measure. "It's out there," he whispered to the room. "The sun has barely set but it is already on its way to Lin. It is best if everyone stays here tonight."

"It can sense the Shadow," a man behind her exclaimed in fright.

Feyre rolled her eyes at the assumption. She had known, somewhere at the back of her mind, there was a reason she usually didn't reveal her Shadow-self in public as she had done here. Now she remembered what that reason was. Finishing her ale, she put her glass down and snatched up the key. "Do you know the woods?" she asked the blond.

His blue eyes returned her stare; she wondered how much it would take to frighten him. She wasn't sure she wanted to try. How long had it been since anyone other than a fellow Shadow or a sorcerer had not been afraid of her?

"I do."

"Good. Tomorrow, you will take me to the different attack sites."

With one last look around the room, she bid everyone a good night and took herself upstairs to find her room. The next day Feyre would examine the area to determine what she faced. Once she had an idea of her foe, she could plan how to take it down.

🌲🐺⭐🌲

Lin did not look much better in the light of dawn. The houses had been built with wood and partially covered in plaster. Over time, the wood had started to rot, while a layer of grime had covered the plaster. When she stepped back into the square, she could feel the cobbles through the soles of her shoes, worn and flattened by the passage of time and countless feet. People had appeared from their houses, filling the central area with activity. Women collected water from the well, others gathered baskets, talking animatedly. Men gathered in groups, counting arrows, testing bowstring or sharpening axes. Children ran through the throngs of adults. Branching off the square, the roads turned to dirt, their cobbles having long since disappeared beneath the mud and grime.

"Shall we set off?"

The blond had left the inn a while ago. She hadn't asked him where he had gone, she hadn't asked him if he would come back. Feyre knew he would take his appointment as her guide very seriously. Otherwise, the other men would have reminded him; no one wished to risk a Shadow’s anger. The Order’s dark reputation certainly had its benefits. Now, standing before her, it was clear he had gone home. A different set of clothes, far better suited to the forest, a bow and quiver strapped to his back, his hair brushed back.

An easy smile.

Behind him stood a horse, saddled and waiting. She thought of her horse in the inn's stables. Of how much begging and pleading it had taken before Zelda, a Shadow stationed in Voyenne, had agreed to let her borrow it. If this Mistbeast truly was as deadly as a wolf, Feyre was not about to take the horse with her.

"I shall need a horse."

"What about the one you came on?" he frowned.

"Not an option."

"Are you su-"

"Not. An. Option."

He scratched the back of his neck. "Well, I suppose Arion could carry us both."

They walked out of Lin on foot. A number of different paths led from the town into Blackwood Forest; some were well maintained, cobbles leading from the houses, through the open field to the edge of the trees, perhaps even continuing under the canopy. The fields were full of spring flowers; daisies and dandelions, red clover and other flowers Feyre didn't have the knowledge to identify. Her escort, who awkwardly introduced himself as Etienne, explained they varied their hunting grounds regularly, which explained the numerous paths.

"The plants can be found in most places but we never pick everything, to assure we will have another harvest the next year."

"And the field?"

"Mostly for our own pretend security. But the children collect the dandelions for jam. They snack on the red clover too."

At the edge of Blackwood, they mounted Arion. The tall pine trees rose high above them. Arion followed the path with only little guidance from Etienne, knowing the way as well as any other inhabitant of Lin. Feyre kept her eyes and ears open, though she did not expect to catch any sight of the Mistbeast this close to the edge while the sun was out. All the usual sounds of a forest teeming with life surrounded them. The wind through the trees, the rustling in the brush. Occasionally a twig snapped somewhere in the distance. There was nothing here to warrant any extra attention.

Soon, the branches overhead became so thick they blocked out all sunlight. If she looked back, she could see nothing but pine trees; they seemed to have moved to block all sight of the world outside of the forest. The temperatures dropped as the sun disappeared, though a Shadow rarely went anywhere without their cloak.

"Pass me the lantern," Etienne asked, halting Arion briefly.

Feyre did as asked.

The small light bloomed to life in its glass prison, allowing them to see a little further. Never could she have found her way through Blackwood Forest without a guide who knew the woods like the back of his hands. While there were few paths branching off the main thoroughfare, the resemblance between the trees and the clear lack of markers made it impossible to guess how long they had traveled. Were they heading south or east? Yet all around them, the forest was alive with sounds.

They crossed over the Grande Elle river via a sturdy wooden bridge as Etienne led them deeper and deeper into the Blackwood. Neither spoke much beyond the necessary. Not many words were necessary either. She didn't ask how much longer they would need, she didn't ask where exactly he was taking her. The last thing she wanted was to alert any beast of their presence.

The noises of the forest disappeared so gradually, Feyre didn't notice at first when everything had gone silent. Arion had walked on though she could sense the animal's nervousness. She reached around Etienne to put a hand on the reins. She hushed him softly before he could speak. Then she slipped onto the ground.

The dirt path beneath her boots didn't kick up any dust as she walked. Here and there, tree roots had pushed their way to the surface, though she easily stepped around them. All around, the forest seemed to have died. There were no more birds, there were no more rustles, there was no more wind. Only silence. Ahead, the path disappeared out of sight as it went downhill. With one hand, she pulled her dagger from her belt, in the other she gripped a throwing knife.

Etienne followed, an arrow nocked and ready. Arion waited patiently where they left him, no interest in going any further. A sure sign of something, Feyre assessed. Her eyes continuously scanned the surrounding forest. Soon she caught something else, not a sound or sight but a smell. In stark contrast to the earthy smell of pine, dirt, and rotting vegetation was the coppery smell of blood. Her feet froze inches before the path dipped down. She found herself surveying a massacre. Etienne stood next to her in horrified silence.

"The latest hunting party, I'm guessing?"

He nodded.

Before them, on the path, hanging from branches, and sticking out of the underbrush were a number of bodies. She could not tell exactly how many there were. Each had been torn to pieces. In truth, most of what she saw were severed limbs. The man nearest to them, his face forever frozen in a terrified scream as he stared up at them, was missing his legs. Feyre surveyed the scene with odd detachment; it was hard to tell which legs had belonged to him.

"That's Baptiste," Etienne whispered. She nodded though the information was useless to her.

Slowly, she made her way downhill. The ground was dark with blood, most of which had dried by now, especially the long drag marks. One man had been left mostly intact though he had been thrown against a tree, where a branch had speared him. A hand lay abandoned in the middle of the path, an arm, and a leg could just be seen sticking out of the vegetation. She saw a head of blond curls a little further, though got the distinct impression it was no longer attached to anything below the neck.

Whatever had attacked this group had been vicious, efficient and deadly. It hadn’t killed for food either; Feyre suspected if all body parts were gathered, they would amount to a complete hunting party. Yet, no other predator had come around to claim the spoils either, which, in itself, concerned her more.

Sweeping her eyes over the dense assembly of trees, the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. "Etienne, go back to Arion." She didn’t turn her eyes away from their surroundings. "Something is watching us."

"What? We can't just leave them here."

"As a matter of fact, we can."

With small, careful steps, Feyre maneuvered backward. Her eyes moved around, searching for the slightest sign of anything hidden in the trees. Nothing moved. Nothing breathed. Her ears couldn't pick up anything. She turned to tell her companion once more to move. The move would have been fatal to anyone else; only her training, reflexes deeply ingrained in her muscles, saved her life as she automatically threw herself to the side.

A second later and long fangs would have torn through her flesh.

Feyre spun to face her foe, holding her dagger at the ready. Her mind pointed out her weapon was roughly the size of those teeth. Except she had only one dagger. Before her stood a beast she had never seen with her own eyes before. This had to be the Mistbeast of the village's tales. A wolf as tall as she was, with fur as black as night, eyes like fire, and powerfully built. Its lips were curled back to bare sharp and lethal teeth. Its hackles were raised and its ears were flat. All the while it snarled at her.

"Etienne, get to the horse. Now!"

She didn't think he would need to be told again.

The wolf snapped its teeth and feinted a forward move. The Shadow lost her first throwing knife to that feint. Between one heartbeat and the next, the wolf jumped at her, not giving her the opportunity to escape as she had the first time. As it knocked her over, she dropped her dagger, though she needed her hands more to keep the strong jaws away from her throat than to hold a useless blade. The wolf was particularly determined to sink its teeth into her; like those of its smaller cousins, they had been designed for crushing bones. Feyre struggled with all her might to keep them away from her. It took all the strength of her runic tattoos to push the beast back.

She worked to pull her legs up to her chest, then, with a burst of strength she prayed would be enough, she kicked out at the wolf. Too focused on ripping out her throat, the kick landed firmly on the sensitive belly of the beast and threw it through the air. Feyre did not waste a second. Grabbing her dagger as she rolled and rose to her feet, she sprinted up the path. Etienne sat in the saddle, barely keeping Arion under control, as he waited for her. His eyes went wide as she appeared, with the massive beast on her tail.

He was quick to shoot an arrow. It rushed past her ear, disappearing behind her. She grabbed his outstretched hand and allowed him to pull her up behind him. The stallion did not need to be told to flee. With a hurried look over her shoulder, she thought for a second the wolf had disappeared. Instead, it had only sought refuge among the trees as it continued its chase. It was fast; it would catch up with them before long.

Feyre took her time to aim before throwing her second knife. Then a third. And a fourth. She neither heard nor saw the impact; the only confirmation she got to confirm a successful throw was a slight yelp. Ripping Etienne's bow from his hand, she knocked an arrow and kept it aimed at the forest, waiting for a sight of the beast. A movement in the darkness.

Nothing.

Arion bolted out of the trees, too panicked to stop at the first sight of sunlight. His rider struggled to control him. They raced through the streets until they were confronted with a crowd on the square. Their arrival was met by curious looks. Finally reining in the frightened horse, they came to a stop. Feyre, her heart racing, dropped to the ground and went to the well. Pulling up a bucket, she drank her fill before holding it out to Etienne, who offered it to his horse.

A silence stretched between them, during which they stared at each other.

The blond broke the silence first. "I cannot believe we survived an attack from the Mistbeast."

Feyre turned on him, anger boiling in her veins. They had been lucky indeed to survive that attack; however, there should not have been a confrontation at all. It had taken one look at the big wolf for her to know what predator she had come face to face with. It had been all she needed to piece together this complicated puzzle.

"You fucking pissed of a Fenris wolf!" she yelled.

He took a step back. Those few who had not been watching yet turned to them. She took a deep breath, knowing he did not deserve her anger. As a matter of fact, none in Lin deserved it. According to the tales, the first hunting party had set out long before any of these people had been born. Still, they had ventured into those woods and attempted to kill something unprovoked. It could simply be bad luck they encountered a creature with good memory and adept to holding grudges.

“What’s a Fenris wolf?”

She breathed in deeply through her nose and slowly out through her mouth, trying to work through the near-death encounter they had experienced only minutes ago. Feyre had made the conscious decision to specialize herself as Tenebrous, a Shadow specialized in the deceitful gathering of information. She had chosen to wrap herself in shadows, minimize her contact with violence. The occasional slit throat was no issue. A direct confrontation with a beast, may it be man or wolf, was quite different.

“A large species of wolves, native to the dense forests of Dinu. This one must have wandered west in search of new territory, maybe for prey.”

“That beast has been here for so long, surely it can’t be the same wolf.” Her expertise did not lay with wolves or any other kind of animal. In fact, she feared she might be in over her head. Why had the Lightless thought to send her? “Can you kill it?”

She took another deep breath. “I have to send a note,” she muttered to herself. Yes, she had to write to someone who knew more. To someone who could research these animals and their behaviors. To someone who could provide her with answers. Until then, she would not venture back into Blackwood Forest.

🌲🐺⭐🌲

"You're back," Etienne exclaimed as her horse made its way across the square's cobblestones.

Feyre had been away from Lin for a week, choosing to stay in the nearby town of Traises. It was slightly bigger than the Blackwood Forest border town and had a Raven Master. She had written to a mage, hoping they would be able to help her, only to have another mage write back to her. What little good it had done her.

She had not expected the blond to be in the square when she returned. In fact, she hadn’t thought of him, doubting she would see him again. Now, he met her with a smile, looking up at her with those peculiar blue eyes full of relief and hope. She acknowledged him with a nod, fully aware of her tight schedule. She continued onward to the inn. The young man followed her with a series of incessant questions she could never hope to answer before the sun set. After she flung herself out of the saddle, she handed him the reins without asking; it was likely he took them wordlessly because the gesture had surprised him.

Inside the inn, it was busier than it had been the last time. The tables were fuller, the conversations flowed as freely as the drinks. A man flushed with wine appeared to have fallen asleep on the bar while the man next to him couldn’t be bothered to wake him. A group threw small darts at a board on the wall, some played cards. In the crowd, the barmaid made her way around the tables with large glasses balanced precariously on her tray. Some were full, others were not. The barman himself stood behind the bar, busy filling even more glasses; he barely paused in his work to look up at the new arrival.

As on her first night, Feyre approached the bar and waited to be noticed. It took a little longer this time. Finally, her patience running thin, she pounded the bar with her fist. The drunkard awoke with a startled snore but only turned his head and resumed his nap. The barman cast a glance at the source of the disturbance and immediately paled at the sight of her. Any other moment she could afford to forego the rudeness; today, she could not.

"Miss Shadow. What can I do for you? Your room is still as you left it."

"I will not be needing the room tonight, though my horse needs a place to stay."

"Certainly. One moment and I will take care of it right away." The tremble had left his voice, though the Shadow suspected a drinking room full of patrons left little time for fear.

Her cloak brushed over the floor as Feyre turned and stepped outside again. Etienne was where she had left him, muttering to the horse as though the animal might give him all the answers. He stopped immediately when his eyes met hers. The barman was right behind her, going for the horse. She watched as the man led it away gently, putting it between her and himself; no demanding clients to keep him from fearing her out here.

"The horse isn't mine," she stated as the young man stepped up next to her. "I have sent word to its owner that she can expect it back soon. If I have not returned by late morning tomorrow; I need you to take it back to Dormont. When you catch your first glimpse of the city, you can let it go. It will find its own way home from there. You can take whatever is in the saddlebags as payment."

He blinked. Once. Twice. By then she had walked away. Daylight was a precious commodity to those traveling in Blackwood Forest, despite how much of it the pines block out. And while the Mistbeast had proven to be very active even during the day, she would much rather make it to her destination before night fell. He caught up to her, matching her stride.

"You are going to hunt it now? Where are your weapons? You cannot hope to take the Mistbeast out with your dagger." At her intimidating look, he hurried to add, "Though I don’t doubt you are greatly skilled with it. You need something larger, something more lethal. Not to mention that the sun will have set before you can get too far, especially if you are walking. Why are you walking?"

She stopped and turned to him. They stood halfway between the Blackwood and Lin. "As I said, the horse is not mine. Now, return home and let me work."

"But a dagger?" he repeated in utter disbelief.

Her fingers closed around the hill of the dagger in question, pulling it free. It was a fine weapon; a lean blade, strong and lethal with its double edge. The rosewood handle had been carved to fit the shape of her hand. Turning the blade over, the Order of Shadow's symbol had been pressed into the metal just under the guard.

"I am a Tenebrous. Do you know what that means?" He shook his head. She hadn't expected him to know; few knew about the inner workings of the Order. "I am a Shadow specialized in the collection of information. Like my Poniard colleagues, I am adept at moving in the shadows, adept at using a weapon and capable of taking a life if the need were to arise. However, I believe that, in the case of the Mistbeast, it is not the skills of a Poniard that are required." Then she put the dagger away; she carried it with her now only for the symbolic nature. "If I do not come back, make sure to tell the next Shadow I was wrong."

She set a steady pace as she walked away from him. As she reached the treeline, she found herself pausing for a heartbeat. It wasn't until she looked over her shoulder to find Etienne where she had left him, watching her with an expression of barely disguised dread and worry that she realized she had expected him to follow. It was good he hadn't. With a final nod, she walked into Blackwood Forest.

On foot, she realized just how far they had gone before they had found the massacre. It would take longer than she had anticipated to venture deep enough into the forest. But she didn't press her step. Instead, she thought about what the mage had been able to tell her. Fenris wolves were the sacred animals of the goddess Daciana, one of several deities of the hunt on the continent. She hunted side by side with the animals. They were intelligent and long-lived; solitary animals but capable of teamwork. They were adaptable and fast learners. Feyre had to admit that was true; the Fenris wolf had witnessed the humans set traps for it, and in turn, it had set a trap for them. It explained why the massacre had happened on the road, why it had been left untouched by the other predators.

The forest grew darker as time passed. Feyre didn't mind. She was a Shadow; she lived in the darkness, used it to conceal herself from the world. However, the Mistbeast would do the same, using the cover of night to hunt its prey while she hunted it. With the darkness, the sounds of life disappeared, leaving the Blackwood in an eerie silence. Her senses were on high alert as she peered into the blackness. She had briefly thought to leave the path but had dismissed the thought; if she had to face and fight the Fenris wolf, best it be not where the beast had the advantage.

For what felt like hours, she followed the path deeper and deeper into Blackwood Forest. She remained on the main path, not willing to risk a smaller side-path. Perhaps the Mistbeast had gone to Lin and she had missed it. Perhaps it hid in a different part of the woods. But no, this was now its territory; any who ventured would not go unnoticed. Yet the night remained calm and peaceful.

Until it didn't.

A prickling sensation alerted her to a presence hidden among the trees. She had not yet reached the massacre site but was not surprised the Fenris wolf had found her already. Her muscles tensed, her ears straining to pick up any sounds. Where did it hide? Why watch her and not attack? She pulled her dagger free, ready to use it to defend herself. Despite being accustomed to tracking her prey at night, the darkness of the Blackwood was almost absolute. All moonlight was blocked out by the thick canopy of branches. Instead, she relied on her hearing, relied on her body as she had never before.

There.

She spun on her heel, watching as the imposing form of the Fenris wolf stepped out of the brush and onto the path. It did so deliberately, calmly, and full of restrained power. The black fur allowed the Mistbeast to blend into the shadows as well as Feyre did, though its eyes shone in what little light there was. It stood tall and straight as it stared her down across the distance that separated them. She returned the Fenris wolf's stare, her grip tightening on the dagger's hilt, her knees bending slightly.

The Mistbeast did not attack her right away, unlike last time. It had come flying out of the trees, intent on sinking its dagger-like teeth into her neck. Now, they faced each other, seizing the other up and gauging their strength. Perhaps looking for a weakness. Their hunts with the goddess are said to have made them uncommonly apt at reading human body language. Her body language no doubt screamed aggressiveness, but perhaps it could read more into it. It had too if it hadn't attacked her yet.

She breathed in deeply through her nose, steeling herself. Either her plan succeeded or she was about to surrender herself to a hopefully quick death.

Slowly letting out her breath, she lowered herself closer to the ground, keeping her gaze fixed upon the Fenris wolf, willing it to read her intentions, the change in her body language. Kneeling on the rough ground, she breathed in shakily and tossed the dagger just out of reach. If the Fenris wolf attacked now, it would be on her before she could scramble for the dagger. Without any other weapons on her, she wouldn't likely survive.

The Mistbeast didn't move.

Bit by bit, she stood up again. One story told of a huntsman who crossed paths with a Fenris wolf. The wolf did not attack, neither did the man. He put down his bow and showed he was no threat. She could see the words before her eyes, praying the mage had been right, praying the story was not a hoax. It watched her still, not moving a muscle. Feyre hoped, if she proved not to be a threat, the animal would assume the same about the people of Lin.

Her heart was in her throat. Any second now and it could all be over.

One heartbeat. Two heartbeats. Three heartbeats.

The Fenris wolf took in step in her direction almost tentatively. Feyre forced herself not to move, whether to dive for the dagger or run deeper into the forest. She forced herself to relax all her muscles. It took another step. It doubted her as much as she doubted it. The Shadow refused to move as the wolf approached her. Even when it was only an arm's length away, her feet remained firmly planted in their spot. Stoically, her eyes didn't stray from the Fenris wolf's shining eyes.

Then, before her frozen body, the wolf too lowered itself. Lower and lower until its muzzle nearly touched the ground. Its eyes stared up at her as it held the position. For the first time in her career as Shadow, Feyre had not prepared for the unexpected. In her mind, the wolf would have either attacked her or walked away. This... this was unanticipated. It was staggering.

Making sure to avoid any brusque movements, she lowered herself onto the ground again, feeling the dirt path beneath her. She could feel every twig and pebble. She was glad to be off her shaky legs. The Order had prepared her for a lot, had trained her to be perfectly emotionless in a vast range of situations. This had never been one of them. In the darkness, the Mistbeast followed her example, lying down on the ground completely.

On a whim, she reached out with her hand, thinking only a heartbeat too late that she might lose the hand. The Fenris wolf sniffed at her fingers before nudging them. Carefully, she slid her fingers up the length of the great muzzle, knowing full well the teeth that hid beneath the fur and skin. Before she could pull back her fingers, the animal licked at them. She drew back her fingers more out of disgust than fear.

"Please, do not slobber all over me," she muttered as she wiped the hand on her cloak.

They sat in an almost companionable silence for a long time, each cautious of the other but growing accustomed to their presence and company. There were times when Feyre thought she might doze off but daren't close her eyes. She must have though for she woke to the sounds of bird song. The pine forest had turned from black to green. The most shocking discovery, however, was the Fenris wolf who had, during the night, moved to curl around her. Its tail rested across her stomach, the black fur soft beneath her hands and cheek.

With small movements, she distanced herself from this feared animal. Its golden eyes flew open and watched the Shadow as she moved. It watched as she stood and stretched. It watched as she reached for her dagger. It rose to its feet in seconds, pulling back its lips to reveal deadly teeth.

"Easy," she muttered, keeping her voice calm. "I'm attached to this. I'm putting it away. See?" Adding action to the words, she slid it into its sheath and showing her empty hands. "No harm done."

Feyre found it hard to walk away from the Fenris wolf though she knew she needed to return to Lin before late morning. A fragile bond had formed between them throughout the night. Tentative but true. She could not simply leave it behind; she had no guarantee it would not remain in Blackwood Forest to hunt the townsfolk. Just because it hadn't killed her...

The Mistbeast did not appear to have the same reservations. It stepped off the path and disappeared between the trees without a backward glance. The ending of her adventure left her feeling dissatisfied; though had the huntsman and the Fenris wolf from the story not walked away from each other either.

And so, she started on her way back to Lin.

🌲🐺 THE END 🐺🌲

I wrote this short story for a challenge on Discord. The challenge was to write something inspired by this image and this is what I came up with. (I also won the monthly challenge thanks to this)

It’s set in a universe that I’ve been slowly building with a map generator (with a lot of customization options). I have an idea for a story set in the universe but I want to have the worldbuilding done before I start working on that. This story was a great help at figuring the Shadows out.

There will be more short stories, though they take time.

Any thoughts or comments? Please let me know what you think.

3 notes · View notes

ancient-artificer · 5 years

Text

Bounties, Booze, Etc.

A Cowboy Bebop AU. Found on FF.net and Ao3

NEW* Fic

After a devastating break-up, Spike turns to old medicines to remedy the hurt. Concerned for her good friend's overall health, Faye strikes up a deal: if she can set Spike up with a good woman within a month's time, he must give up drinking and live a healthier life, for all their sakes. Leave it to a woman to beat around the bush...

Eventual Spike x Faye. Plot-driven.

ONE - Hangovers, Milkshakes, etc.

The majority of the household wasn't too thrilled with his decision-making skills of late.

Spike's wobbly hiccuping, coming in too late and hastily leaving too early was all beginning to cause for concern; the hole-in-the-wall pub inhabitants were ready to create for him a permanent place barside, a stock brand with his name on it if they didn't soon do something about his drinking.

Jet claimed that was just how he functioned and to let him be, the old "he'll fix himself, he always does" routine. Faye had always blatantly called him emotionally constipated, for lack of better terms, but even from her opinionated viewpoint, it wasn't that simple this time around.

It wasn't that Spike couldn't let himself feel emotions.

He felt them too much, too strongly.

It had been two weeks since Julia left. No heads up and no word since. No one understood what she had been thinking or why in the least she had not decided to tell anyone her plans. The blond bombshell just up and disappeared.

And left Spike a goddamned messed, barely able to pick up the pieces in her wake.

"What a bitch," Faye spat. She stared at the lifeless form lying on the couch and crossed her arms over her voluptuous breasts.

In front of their computer searching for the next easy, potential payload, Jet hummed, his fingers stroking his beard in thought. One of his eyebrows rose as he glanced up to her. "Way to kick a man while he's down," he monotoned.

Faye turned towards him. "No, not Spike, that damn bimbo he was head over heels for."

"Yea, well, it happens."

She snorted. "Which one, falling in love with a trash can or having it dump you?"

Jet acted as if he wasn't paying attention, but his mouth twitched up in a small smirk. "Like I said."

"I guess…" Her voice trailed off.

Her gaze returned to the dingy couch with the broken man sprawled across it. It softened as she took in his expressionless, slumbering face. "It must really suck."

"Mhm." His eyes darted back and forth on the screen as he read a profile from the bounty office site.

Faye sympathized with the man. Seeing him asleep, finally buried under consciousness after hours of fighting with himself made her glad she had never fallen in love. Of course, there was the like button, the pesky infatuation that came and went as quickly as the vast amounts of alcohol Spike had no doubt thrown back, and that was only a surface level sentiment.

What Spike tried to let go of was deeper. Scarring.

His sleeping form seemed peaceful, though she supposed it would turn one-eighty once he awoke. He had stumbled in around four-thirty that morning, sloshed beyond all hope, incoherently blabbering on. It was a wonder he had made it back to the house in one piece. Spike had easily passed out with his boots still on his feet.

She stepped to the couch and pulled the folded blanket from the recliner to spread over him. He reeked of hard booze.

"What are we gonna do with you?" She murmured to herself, giving her head a shake.

"Mm… er, do what now?"

Spike's eyes were still closed as he stirred and tried to lift his head and speak. The low, cigarette and whiskey-burned groan that escaped between his dehydrated lips sounded painful.

"You look like you were hit by a train." She was ever so blunt.

What resembled a short-lived laugh tumbled out from him, ending in a cough. He winced. "You should feel it," he mumbled.

Faye rolled her eyes and left to fetch him a bottle of water.

His liver and kidneys would be working overtime for a while until his situation leveled out, those brave, little soldiers. These days she felt more like the caretaker of a twenty-seven-year-old baby than a hard-earning, semi-successful bounty hunter.

"I think I'd rather feel the emotional ass-whooping than your kind of hangovers. It'd pass faster," she replied loudly, handing him the bottle with an added sarcastic, "Your drink, sir."

Spike winced hard as he sat up. "Not so loud, fuck…" he croaked. "Trying to kill me."

One hand took the water, the heel of the other rubbed into his forehead, seeking relief from the growing ache. The pounding behind his eyes rocked his balance and sensitivity. A queasiness hit his stomach before he brought the drink to his mouth.

He heaved into the previously placed bucket below him.

"Serves you right," Faye muttered. She walked away before she heard anything else that would haunt her later.

She had never been fond of Julia. From the moment that woman stepped foot inside their abode she could tell they were in for some bad news. Spike was only now unwinding himself from around her slender fingers.

However, Faye was fond of Spike and hoped he would learn from this rather unfortunate event and the things that spurred it. She just didn't approve of his methods. It wasn't fun to tease him when he was hurting himself. If he would let her help.

"Just give it a few more hours. His wallowing's almost over," Jet announced. He stood up from the desk and stretched, his thick arms reached above his head.

Reaching into his pocket, he tossed Faye a pack of smokes as she strolled by. "Give one to pathetic over there and then suit up. We've got a job."

"Uhh, okay, but isn't he a little useless right now?"

From the couch beside her, Spike gave a rough groan and then snarled, "Cowboy up or sit in the fuckin' truck."

Jet only smiled.

"You can't possibly know how this feels," Spike monotoned, briefly closing his eyes. He plodded after the others down the sidewalk towards the pub, which happened to be the location of their next hit.

It was a first. Strolling that day into the same bar he'd gotten plastered in the night before, still hungover as hell. The dark circles under his eyes had deepened in their shade of bluish-purple on the way over.

"Psht, yea, you're right, I can't. 'Cause I'm not a drunk loser," Faye replied in kind. She threw a glance his way.

"You're both getting on my nerves. Focus," Jet grumbled under his breath. "Faye, you walk in first. Spike and I will be in after you've had a look around."

They gave it a good thirty seconds.

Nausea hit Spike as soon as he smelled the alcohol.

The drink hall harbored few patrons in the early evening. It would later fill up to near capacity as the hours wore on. Smoke and other various and unique scents floated through the stale air. The place could have used a strong breeze.

As if not affiliated with the other two, Spike beelined it for the bartop and sank onto one of the many stools. His head hit the cool, shellacked wooden surface and he went limp. All but useless.

Mentally patting herself and feeling the weight of gunmetal beneath the ridiculous outfit, Faye easily slipped into a facade. The perfect trap laid before a hungry smuggler.

Remember he'll be armed, Jet's voice said to her through the earpiece connecting the three bounty hunters. Name's Merle. His crew smuggles drugs and other goods into the country through the underground. Not unlike them to enjoy the spoils.

He adjusted his sunglasses to sit further up on his nose and peered at their target as he sat down two stools from Spike's seemingly knocked out form. He raised his hand at the only bartender, who stood directly in front of him, looking oddly at him as he wiped down the bartop.

"Uh, what can I do for ya, sir?"

Jet nodded. "Iced tea, please."

"Is that all?"

Spike let loose a series of quiet snores. A drop of drool slid from the corner of his mouth.

"And a protein shake. If you've got them," Jet said.

The bartender shook his head. He dropped the wet rag into a sani-bucket. "Don't got those. But there's ingredients for a milkshake?"

Jet glanced at Spike, then nodded to the employee.

Faye said nothing as she roamed about the great hall, her gaze hitting everything that could be used as a weapon if the need arose, all of the exits should they have underestimated their target.

If Merle was easy to catch, he would already be in police custody. The profile stated he'd been on the run for four years, successfully evading cuffs and a comfy cell. Within that time, due to the extremely toxic purity of the illegal synthetic drugs he often smuggled and sold, many innocent lives were needlessly lost. The bounty on his head paid a hefty price, dead or alive.

But preferably alive to watch his freedom turn to cash.

Large, green eyes gave a sultry flash at the giant of a man sitting in the corner intent on the brown bottle in between his fingers.

His expression never faltered. His grip on the bottle loosened a bit when Faye swayed near and laid a hand on the only other chair present at his table. She made a point to throw her shoulders back and jut out her ample breasts barely covered in the low cut of her dress.

"May I join you?" She purred.

He stared at her. First at the twin fun sacks staring back at eye level, then up at her expectant, smiling expression. "I'm meeting someone," he simply stated, his voice gruff.

She gently pressed. "I could be that someone… if you have time," she said, the words rolling off her tongue like a satin sheet.

"Time for you to fuck off," he said, shifting in the chair.

Faye grinned.

He played hard.

She opened her mouth to respond in the same smartass, sarcastic tone when the establishment's glass door swung open once again. Her eyes darted to it.

In strode three buff, ruffian-looking men, one right after the other. The didn't try to hide their full sidearm holsters conspicuously hanging from their clothing or the fact they all knew the dark man in the back. They sneered when they saw Faye.

"Looks like Boss has a customer, heheh," one of them chuckled. With one arm in a fluid motion, he snagged a chair from another nearby table and unceremoniously sank onto it.

The second did the same, but with the chair Faye had her hand on. "A lady friend," he commented.

The remaining man still standing peered closely at her, leaning down so he could breathe on her cheek as he inspected her.

Straightening her back, Faye loosened the hold she subconsciously had on her features. She tried not to tense. She had to act like a whore, not be one. All she had to focus on was getting them happy and cooperative, Jet -and hopefully Spike- would do the rest, with her lending a helping hand should the need arise. The moment they caught wind of her unwillingness to indulge in their scumbag needs and desires, she would be outed as a cop or worse -what she really was- and the bounty-op would be eighty-sixed.

Jet's voice was low and steady in the earpiece. "Hm. This might've turned into a four man warrant..."

The man with his face next to hers smelled like tobacco and grease. A throaty hum of approval thrummed in his chest. He turned to the man who had first occupied the table. "This yours?"

Merle took a swig of his drink. He said nothing, only his dark eyes moved to inspect Faye once again, sizing her up, himself unsure of the answer.

She shifted her weight, making sure her breasts jiggled a bit to keep their attention. Her fingers pushed some of her violet hair behind her ears, her gaze quickly shifting from all four with a mysterious grin sliding up on her red lips. "Well. How about I buy rounds for you. And you can buy for me… and then we see where we stand?"

The three disgusting bastards were instantly hooked, line and all, at her innuendo. They automatically turned to each other and then to Merle, who had yet to give the okay for the extra person to accompany them for the evening.

Jet kept his head down, seemingly staring at the bartop under the dark of his glasses and intently listened in on her conversation. He breathed from his seat in surprise at Faye's words. "Geezus, you don't have to go all out," he said quietly.

At the same moment, the bartender gave him a quizzical gaze, one eyebrow raised as he set the glass full of iced tea down in front of him. "Um. Uh, w-would you also like ah, a lemon wedge? Or two?" He stuttered in his confusion.

A choked sound akin to holding back a burst of laughter came from Spike. He wheezed, his lips turning up at the corners before going back to his expressionless, slumber-like state.

The bartender reappeared with a handful of lemon slices and a milkshake in the tallest glass he could find. He set the tiny fruit bowl and the shake next to Jet.

Jet slid the drink to Spike.

"Finally…" Spike uttered. He unfurled his limbs from his lap and inched the straw to his mouth and sucked down a large mouthful. He frowned. "Hmm, it's missing something… what's it missing?"

"Sour wedge?" Jet sarcastically offered. He dropped a small piece of lemon into his tea without looking at him.

Merle straightened his back at Faye's suggestion.

"You're pretty. Too pretty for a dump like this shithole," the bossman grunted. His eyes bore a hole through her dark red dress. He spat, "How do I know you're not a cop?"

Faye blinked. "I'm not," she replied as a confused question.

She didn't look like one, that was for sure. But they couldn't be too careful these days. Highly sought after criminals could not let their guards down, especially around a woman, no matter how pretty. They were sly. They were just as capable of manipulation as men.

Merle snapped his fingers and pointed. "Vic. Search her."

"Heh. With pleasure."

Faye swallowed.

Through the earpiece, Jet heard the demand. She had a Glock and a pair of cuffs strapped to the inside of her leg. If they found those, she was as good as dead where she stood.

"Ahh. I see." Spike hailed the bartender. With a raspy voice and a fake smile, he asked, "Do you have any eggs?"

"Eggs?"

"Yea. Eggs. You know. Chickens shit them out. Can I have one?"

The perpetually perplexed employee headed for the back with his strange request, oblivious to the growing tension in the place.

"What are you doing, Faye needs us. Now," Jet said. He was already turning in the stool to free the handgun at his side.

"Relax. Everything's fine." The hungover bounty hunter lazily sipped at the whipped cream on top of the milkshake, seemingly uninterested in the fate of his female friend. Or any of their fates, for that matter.

The employee came back and handed him a white egg.

Jet slid from his stool and took a long step in the smugglers' direction, in his hand a grey and silver Walther P99.

Faye backed away from the table as two of them approached her. A quick glance to the bar area at Jet and she reached down under the hem of the dress. One hand made a fist, the other gripped the black, fully loaded Glock.

She landed a swift uppercut into the soft underside of the ruffian's jaw and pistol-whipped the back of his head with the butt of her gun. He landed on the ground a shove. She shook her hand in the air and cringed.

Jet fired the Walther at the other man standing between Faye and the table, the explosion of contained gunpowder slicing through the previous quiet. As soon as the man fell to the floor with a shout, he shifted his aim toward the two still seated.

Distance offense strategy was now useless; Merle and his thug friend were already up and closing the space that separated them.

Merle rushed Jet. He knocked into him before he could bring his pistol around to aim. The Walther flew from his hand and a fist connected into the side of his face.

Throwing a glance towards Jet, Faye knew she wasn't equipped to fight like him or Spike. She wasn't trained in hand to hand, but in the close quarters of the small pub, the Glock was still her only defense. She didn't want to flat out kill them, they wouldn't get their money if the smugglers were dead.

"Spike! You idiot!" She called in frustration.

Hunched over his drink, Spike concentrated on cracking the missing ingredient into his shake. He was terrible at cooking anything, having relied heavily on Jet for sustenance for most of his adult life. He winced from the gunshot, which only added to the ache behind his tired eyes. Behind him, all hell broke loose, the sounds of struggles and gunfire ringing in the stale air.

Jet blocked another fist aimed for his gut and connected his own to Merle's temple in return. The smuggler stumbled backward. Jet shoved him hard in the chest and the muscled man toppled over the table and his unfinished beer.

"Faye!" Jet shouted in warning.

The woman turned at his voice, seeing one of the thugs ball his fist and advance to pummel her. She ducked and threw her shoulder into his gut, using the Glock's barrel to assist her in tagging him in the process.

He was out of the fight, down for the count, dry heaving with his hands on his junk.

The man she had earlier pistol-whipped rose and ran at her, the bloodlust apparent in his angry eyes. She promptly ducked again and stuck out her leg, which he ran right into. He was sent stumbling into the bar and smacked right into Spike.

The still unbroken egg slipped out of his hand to bust on the floor.

"The fuck," Spike barked. Anger boiled inside his chest.

The pub's door flung open and four more similarly dressed men ran in, all familiar with Merle and the two men sprawled on the floor. They looked around at the fray, briefly orienting themselves with the situation. It took only seconds, but Jet and Faye knew they couldn't hold off the newcomers.

"My egg! I needed that," Spike seethed. "Everything's so not fine!"

He jumped and shoved the stool away from the counter, standing up and tugging out his Jericho 941 from its holster. He snarled, racking the pistol and without aiming, started firing off round after round directly at the smugglers who had just entered the building.

They scattered to hide behind anything they could find, knocking tables on their sides to use as makeshift shields as he channeled his frustrations into the gunmetal.

Spike turned to the downed man who had run into him. He smashed the man's bloody face into the egg mess with his boot. "That's for ruining my milkshake," he hissed.

Behind him, Jet's left fist smacked into Merle's jaw, his torso bending in half at the waist with the momentous effort. He breathed out, struggling to catch his breath with the strain.

The drug smuggler bounded into the back wall. His head shot side to side, looking for a way out while Jet was preoccupied with the small group of his followers that had come in to join them.

When his attention returned to their main target, Merle was nowhere to be seen. Their intended target escaped.

Faye dove for Jet's discarded pistol as the newcomers began to retaliate. She threw herself back on the floor. With her own gun, she covered them with gunfire until she could return Jet's firearm to him. Her dress hitched up her legs, the thigh holsters now in full view. Vibrant green panties peeked out from the inside at the apex of her legs.

Spike barreled out of the way of blazing bullets zooming past. "Shit!"

Lying on the ground next to Faye, he ejected the empty magazine and inserted a fresh one into his black pistol. From his position, he spied the material. "Really. Lime green, huh," he stated casually. A smirk showed up on his mouth.

Faye pursed her lips and cow kicked him in the chest. "Stop looking, pervert."

"We gotta get, fast," Jet grunted. He caught the pistol Faye tossed up to him.

"What about the bounty-" Faye started, the surprise coating her voice.

The big man shook his head. "It's no good. Let's go before we're shot all to hell!"

With Jet laying down cover fire, Spike hauled Faye to her feet, then angled his body to pop off a few rounds at their opposition. He snatched up the milkshake on his way and followed the other two out the back exit and into the alley.

Outside next to the dumpsters, Faye watched for any signs of their fleeing quarry while Jet fetched the car parked on the other side of the alley. She turned at the door opening, relaxing when she saw Spike. He made a face as he sucked up the shake.

"You went back for that?"

He swallowed. "It's not as good without some egg in it. No tip for him."

Faye tried to hide the smile he unknowingly put on her face. Though the man liked to mess around, making light of certain situations, never mind how dire they may be, he made her heart a little lighter. Every day. His presence settled her. His lack of emotional awareness, however, would get him into serious trouble someday.

Jet drove the car up to them, skidding to a halt.

Pulling at Spike's shirt, Faye dragged him to the car, pushing him through the now open door. She shoved him further to climb in herself.

The junk car didn't look like much, though it got them from point A to B with no hesitation. The engine's rumble turned into a roar as Jet sped away. "Watch for that slimebag," Jet said.

They entered the main, busy streets, blending in with the locals. People walked along from one area to another. Other vehicles on the streets passed by in a rush. There were so many, Faye couldn't distinguish after a certain distance. "I don't know, Jet. I don't see him. Sorry."

"Hmm. Well. This blows. Not what I expected." Jet made a sound with his mouth and flicked the air freshener hanging under the rectangle mirror.

Faye nodded. "We'll try again. Another day, sometime."

"Sometime," Jet repeated. He looked at her in the mirror. "You mean another year. That guy's evaded the cops and bounty hunters alike for half a decade. He's not stupid."

There was an empty, sipping sound.

They both turned to Spike, who had finished his mediocre milkshake. He seemed to be doing a little better than earlier in the day. His eyes were a little brighter, almost back to normal.

From the other side of the backseat, Spike peered at Faye from his position, his head resting on the armrest. He took in her ragged appearance after their small bar fight.

Bounty work did a number on her.

He licked the whipped cream off the straw and said, "Yea. Next time it'll be a thousand times harder 'cause he knows who we are."

#cowboy bebop #cowboy bebop fic #spike spiegel #spike x faye #AU #bounty hunters #ff.net #ao3 #CapAleran2 #andyswrite #im terrible at tagging things

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saxonspud · 4 years

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The Outlaw and the Treasure Hunter - Chapter 6 - Business as Usual

Arthur rode into the camp, at horseshoe overlook. It had been a while, since he had been back. He'd intended to return, the day he'd first encountered Izzy, in the store. But his new endeavour, had kept him away. He felt rather pleased with himself. He had a decent amount to put in the box. It would still leave him with a reasonable amount, to pocket for himself.

He hitched his horse, and sauntered into the camp. He'd pick up a change of clothes whilst he was here, as well. He didn't intend staying to long. He still had to see to Elizabeth Pickett, and return to Valentine, to keep an eye on his little treasure hunter.

First things first. He headed over to Dutch's tent, and the camp box. He deposited Eight hundred dollars in the box, and entered it, into the ledger. After he had done that, he headed back to his tent, to sort out a change of clothes.

Dutch Van Der Linde, saw Arthur return. He'd been away from camp, longer than usual. He'd also seen him putting something in the box, and filling in the ledger. Dutch, opened the ledger, and scanned the last entry. He frowned. That was a lot for one person to have made, in such a short space of time. Not that he wasn't pleased, that the money was coming in. But he'd heard a few rumours, around the local town. About a stranger, killing folk, for only a few dollars. It concerned him, that it might be one of his people. They didn't make a habit, of randomly killing people, that were just trying to get by. Greedy people, who maybe had more than they needed, yes. But normal folks, that kind of went against the grain. What worried him more, was that the rumoured stranger, may well have been Arthur. Who was more like a son to him. Well to him, and Hosea.

Dutch saw Arthur, coming out of his tent.

"Arthur, son!" he called out, and beckoned him over.

Arthur grunted, when he heard his name being called. This was only supposed to be a flying visit. There were still places, he needed to be. He wandered across to Dutch's tent, huffing as he went.

"Arthur, where have you been," Dutch chided.

Arthur rolled his eyes, "bringing in money," he huffed, "It's what you wanted, ain't it?"

Dutch frowned, "sure, son. Its just, well that's a helluva lot of money, in one trip!"

Arthur sighed, "since when did you complain about the amount, I bring in. Thought you'd be pleased."

Dutch looked at Arthur, concern in his face, "It ain't that son, its just, well, I hope you ain't doing anything immoral, to come by such large amounts."

Arthur laughed, "we're outlaws Dutch, ain't that what we do. You can hardly rob people nicely." he hesitated, "anyway, wasn't killing that woman on the ferry, a touch immoral?"

Dutch glared at Arthur, "You know that was an accident. It ain't like we make a habit of killing innocent folk. I'm just worried about you son," he sighed, before continuing, "you've changed since Blackwater, got hard. I just wanna make sure, your not drifting in the wrong direction."

Arthur scratched his head, "Don't worry Dutch, I ain't doing nothin' bad. Hell I ain't even killed anyone in the last couple a days," he scoffed, as he turned and headed back to his horse.

Dutch watched Arthur walk away. He shook his head, something wasn't right.

He looked over to the campfire, and saw John. Catching his eye, he beckoned him over.

"Dutch!" John grunted, as he approached the gang leader.

Dutch lowered his voice, "listen son, I need you to do me a favour?"

John nodded, "Sure, Dutch. What d'ya need?"

"I want you to follow Arthur, just see what he's up to?" He whispered.

"What!" John exclaimed. "Why?"

Dutch sighed, "Please, son. Just humour me, something just don't feel right, I just wanna know what it is." He hesitated, "oh and John, don't let him know that you're following him."

John nodded, and headed to the horses, quickly mounting, as he saw Arthur heading out of camp.

Arthur headed to the cabin, where he had left Elizabeth Pickett. Completely unaware, that he was being followed.

He needed to sort her out, with food and water, before he went on another treasure hunting foray, with Izzy. It was going, so much better than he expected, apart from nearly loosing her over the side of a crevasse.

He also wondered what her mother was up to. The sort of stuff, that they had retrieved. The Picketts, should have been living like kings. It also seemed a little odd, that Mrs Pickett, would go all the way, to St. Denis, to sell the stuff. Especially when Seamus, was so close. Even if he had cheated her a little, she would still be getting a decent amount for what she was selling. It seemed a little suspicious. He was sure he could get the truth out of Elizabeth Pickett, with a little 'persuasion'.

Arthur arrived at the cabin and hitched his horse outside. When he went through the door.

Elizabeth, was at first startled. Then she breathed a sigh of relief. "I thought you were going to leave me here, to die," she cried.

Arthur smirked, "its always an option, Mrs Pickett. You and I need to have a little chat, if I don't get the answers I want, then it might just happen!"

John saw the cabin, at the top of the hill, and Arthur's horse, hitched outside. He hitched his horse, in a clump of trees, at the bottom, and continued to the cabin, on foot.

Glancing through the window, he was shocked to see, a woman shackled to the bed, and the derisory look on Arthur's face.

He crouched, under the window, hoping to hear, any snippets of conversation.

Arthur glared at Elizabeth Pickett. "So tell me, where is the rest of the money, from Izzy's treasure hunting, 'cos it sure as hell ain't at your little homestead, in Valentine?"

Some of the colour, faded from Elizabeth Pickett's face, "I...I don't know what your talking about," she stuttered.

Arthur pulled his knife, and took a step towards her, pointing the blade at her throat, "I know what she finds, at these little treasure sites, and I also know what they're worth. So you better start talking! Unless you want you, or your pretty little daughter, to be cut up some!"

Elizabeth whimpered, "Please, don't hurt Izzy. I've been keeping some money in St. Denis."

Arthur withdrew the knife. "I'm guessing you're daughter ain't aware of that?"

Elizabeth shook her head, "once the treasure sites are spent, there'll be no more income."

Arthur sneered, "so once you've finished putting your daughter in danger, you'll head off, and leave her behind."

Elizabeth, shook her head, "its not like that, by the time it runs out, she'll be wed. I still need to live, with no husband, or other source of income."

Arthur stood, looking at Elizabeth Pickett, in disbelief, "and they say I'm the evil bastard, and the crook," he hesitated, then continued, "have you any idea, how dangerous it is, what your daughter does? She would have died today, if I hadn't been there."

Elizabeth stared blankly "It is, what it is."

Arthur laughed, "you couldn't care less about her. Was it your idea, for her to become a treasure hunter?"

Elizabeth sneered, there didn't seem to be any point in trying to hide the truth any more, "Yes, it was. Her father was against it, well the hunting. He was happy for her to learn about the maps. She would sit with him, in his study, when she was about fifteen, learning all about maps. It got to a point, when she could read the maps, better than him," she scoffed. "He was weak, I knew it wouldn't be long before he died, one way or another. So on her eighteenth birthday, I persuaded him, to take her hunting. After that, he started to teach her. She started to become better at it, than him."

Arthur picked up the empty jug and refilled it with water, and chucked some salted beef and biscuits on the bed.

"When I come back Mrs Pickett, we'll be taking a trip, to St. Denis, to collect your stash. Your lucky you got a stash, 'cause if you didn't, I'd leave you here to rot." He snarled.

By this time, John had heard enough. He crept away from the cabin, and back to where his horse was tethered.

A few moments later, he saw Arthur, leave the cabin, and mount his horse.

He guessed he was heading to Valentine, to go back to this woman's daughter. He decided to follow Arthur, to Valentine, to see where he had the daughter, then report back to Dutch.

Arthur, arrived in Valentine, just as the sun was beginning to set. Giving everything an orange glow.

He hitched his horse, next to Izzy's. Unlocked the front door, and closed it behind him.

John, who had still been following, at a distance, looked at the house. He doubted he would be able to glean much more information. At least he knew where the house was now, and likely the woman's daughter, was inside somewhere. Deep down, he felt like barging in, and asking Arthur what the hell he thought he was doing, but he decided, to do as Dutch had asked him. So he headed back to camp, to provide Dutch with the information, he had obtained.

Arthur climbed the stairs, and headed to Izzy's room.

As he went in, he was pleased to find, Izzy, still tied up. He was, however, surprised to see that she had been crying. Tears still glistening on her cheeks.

Arthur took out his knife, and cut the cords, that bound her ankles. He helped her to sit. He gently touched her face, and wiped the tears away with his thumb. "What's the matter princess, did you miss me?" he smirked.

Izzy, not wanting to look him in the eye, looked down, "I...I thought, you weren't coming back." she stuttered.

Arthur reached behind her, and cut the cords, on her wrists. They'd already started to cut in, and had left red friction burns, on her wrist.

He gently held her wrists, on in each hand. Rubbing the sore spots, gently, with his thumb.

After a while, he put his hand under her chin, and gently tilted it up, so that she was looking at him, "I told you, princess, I'm gonna look after you, and I will." he whispered.

Izzy blinked, not quite sure what to make of the man. One minute, he was rough and aggressive, the next soft and sensitive.

Arthur let go of Izzy, and stood up. "C'mon" he said gruffly, "get downstairs." He delved into his satchel, and handed her the map, that they had retrieved from the falls. "I want you to check that out, or look at the others you have. We'll head out again tomorrow."

Izzy slipped off the bed, and headed downstairs, closely followed by Arthur. She was quite surprised, when he didn't follow her, into her fathers study.

The maps were still scattered across the desk, where she had put them, the night that Arthur broken in. She quickly put them back into the drawer, with the exception of the map she had been working on, and the new one.

She was pretty certain, that the map she had been working on, was referring to Cotorra Springs. She put it to one side, and took a look at the new map. She frowned, then looked at the large map of the five states, concentrating on an area in the Grizzlies.

She was so engrossed in the maps, she didn't notice Arthur walk into the study.

Arthur stood there, watching Izzy, pour over the maps, first looking at the treasure map, then taking a magnifying glass, and looking at the map, that was spread out on the desk.

He put his hand on Izzy's shoulder. Izzy gasped, in surprise.

Arthur squeezed her shoulder, "well? Where are we heading?"

Izzy wanted to shrug, his hand of her shoulder, but she new better, than to do that. She handed him the two treasure maps. Which made him release the grip, so that he could take them.

"One of them points towards Cotorra Springs, the other O'Creagh's run." She stated.

Arthur nodded, and handed the maps, back to Izzy. "We'll head to Cotorra Springs, tomorrow, now you better have something to eat, C'mon."

Izzy stood up and walked through to the main room. She was surprise to see, there was hot food, already prepared on the table.

She looked at the food, then looked at Arthur.

Arthur pointed at the food, "Eat!" he grunted.

Izzy sat down, and started to eat, suddenly realising how hungry she was. She'd had nothing since this morning.

Arthur sat down opposite, and ate the food that he had prepared. Glancing over at Izzy every so often.

After Izzy had finished, she took a deep breath, "Mister Morgan, may I go to bed now?" she asked, knowing the last time, she'd try to go somewhere, without asking, he'd become very Irate.

Arthur stood up, and walked around the table, until he was standing behind her.

He traced the tips of his fingers, from her neck, down her arms, feeling the skin through the fabric of her shirt. Once his fingers reached her hands, he held them tightly, so that his arms, were pressing against hers. He leaned his head, into the side of hers. She felt his stubble, graze her cheek. Izzy drew in a stuttered gasp, as her heart, thudded in her chest.

Arthur sniffed, deep. Taking in her scent, like a wolf. He gently kissed her neck, "goodnight, Princess," he purred, "and remember the rules, no locked doors!"

He released his grip, and slowly stepped away from the table, smirking.

She nodded, as she felt a shiver down her spine.

Izzy quickly left the table, and hurried up the stairs. Once she was in her room, she quickly closed the door. She decided tonight, she would sleep in her clothes.

#rdr2 fanfic #original female character #low honor arthur morgan #dutch van der linde #wattpad #a03

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