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incarnateirony · 5 years

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Scifi weapon design

A conversation that spawned off a mix of combat and smithing conversation from our resident nerds, smiths, and trained weapon-folk into a discussion about angel blades. Leaving a few early anchor points with names you might not recognize, but it’ll get there in a few sentences. The conversation initially started in people not understanding combat at all, and a bunch of us watching Forged in Fire on the regular, some of our history in trained blade combat IRL, or in our own weapon design, etc, but I’ll trim it down to the most relevant parts.

TLDR: Angel blade design was terrible for their use.

Final call: Castiel should have a Karambit, period, and if you don’t read all the nerdery, watch the video at the end and think about how he fights and that’ll tell it all.

CastielToday at 12:39 PM

I think that's what fascinated me about Castiel tbh, Cas fights like a Santhis without blades

Sam WinchesterToday at 12:39 PM

GOOD FIGHTERS HAVE A RHYTHM

CastielToday at 12:39 PM

yeah but I also mean his footwork and shit

Sam WinchesterToday at 12:39 PM

Yep

CastielToday at 12:40 PM

he just unfortunately has a really inefficient blade due to show design the angel blade's shape is almost like... stupid, that's for if you're dealing with heavy armor enemies wtf

Sam WinchesterToday at 12:40 PM

It's a fucking pike blade. It's meant to be on a POLE Like I get that it's the largest it could be in order to be summoned from the armpit dimension BUT STILL

Aryn Prime #TokenStraight😘Today at 12:41 PM

I laughed so hard when it was introduced It’s barely even sharp

Sam WinchesterToday at 12:42 PM

Like. I see what they were trying to do with it But they failed

Dean WinchesterToday at 12:42 PM

are y'all really complaining about magic blades

Aryn Prime #TokenStraight😘Today at 12:42 PM

TES Yes

Sam WinchesterToday at 12:42 PM

Yes we are

Dean WinchesterToday at 12:42 PM

it looks nifty that's enough for me

Aryn Prime #TokenStraight😘Today at 12:42 PM

facepalms

Dean WinchesterToday at 12:42 PM

magic realism vs Magic Realism™

CastielToday at 12:42 PM

like no seriously

CastielToday at 12:43 PM

it's the least efficient design they could have given it

Dean WinchesterToday at 12:43 PM

IT LOOKS NIFTY

CastielToday at 12:43 PM

IT LOOKS STUPID

Dean WinchesterToday at 12:43 PM

no u

Aryn Prime #TokenStraight😘Today at 12:43 PM

TEAM UP BLADE DESIGN GO

Dean WinchesterToday at 12:43 PM

don't make me stab cas with it again

CastielToday at 12:43 PM

What they SHOULD have done is given a lore where the angel blade is somehow attached to the will of the angel and can change form

Aryn Prime #TokenStraight😘Today at 12:43 PM

*RE-DESIGN HELL YEAH

Dean WinchesterToday at 12:44 PM

too much budget

CastielToday at 12:44 PM

not really

Dean WinchesterToday at 12:44 PM

less recognizable less marketable

Aryn Prime #TokenStraight😘Today at 12:44 PM

Shhhhh

CastielToday at 12:44 PM

it's the recognizable/marketable aspect but it wouldn't cost much more

Sam WinchesterToday at 12:45 PM

They were going for this

Sam WinchesterToday at 12:45 PM

And they failed

CastielToday at 12:45 PM

LMAO shea

Aryn Prime #TokenStraight😘Today at 12:45 PM

It would explain the archangel blades Like If you wanted to go for less variety, it could be determined by the class or rank of angel

CastielToday at 12:46 PM

I can tell you right now with Castiel's battle style that is ABSOLUTELY not the kind of blade he should be using

Sam WinchesterToday at 12:46 PM

It's a four edged sword that was used for a VERY VERY VERY short period of time because GUESS WHAT IT WASN'T FUCKING EFFICIENT

Sam WinchesterToday at 12:48 PM

They thought that sharpening four edges instead of just two and keeping the blade flat would allow for better stabby ability, when, in truth, it made for a MUCH weaker sword in hand-to-hand and much more likely for the opponent's blade to slip past the guard.

Aryn Prime #TokenStraight😘Today at 12:52 PM

Re: swords I would love to see more varied weapon use in spn buuuttt it’s ending. So I get my fix here. Lol

Sam WinchesterToday at 12:53 PM

Look Blade design is something I critique very heavily inwardly. I have personal favorites that I love seeing used. I personally think the Angels would have been given a lot more justice if they were given something like a Xiphos or something like that. Still not a big blade, but MORE EFFICIENT THAN A SILVER TOOTHPICK

Aryn Prime #TokenStraight😘Today at 12:55 PM

So, like, if I hypothetically write anything with sword/knife combat (in roleplay) you’d tell me if it was dumbass stupid

Sam WinchesterToday at 12:55 PM

Sure. LOL This is a Xiphos. Very simple in make but EXTREMELY efficient as a short-range weapon

Aryn Prime #TokenStraight😘Today at 12:56 PM

Okay, looks similar to Bilbo’s sword in the Hobbit How effective is the guard? It looks a bit small

Sam WinchesterToday at 12:58 PM

You...You don't need a guard for that kind of sword Because you pair it with a shield That sword isn't designed to catch another. You do something that my trainer lovingly referred to as "turtle up." Which is where you get behind your shield and only swing when there's an opening

Aryn Prime #TokenStraight😘Today at 1:00 PM

Ahh

Sam WinchesterToday at 1:00 PM

FYI I'm horrible at sword and shield fighting.

Aryn Prime #TokenStraight😘Today at 1:00 PM

WHO DIDN'T GIVE BILBO HIS SHIELD

(edited)It seems like more multitasking

Sam WinchesterToday at 1:01 PM

Look One of the biggest critiques I have In Lord of the Rings Is their use of short-range weapons

MaggieToday at 1:01 PM

oooo sharp and pointy end talk

Sam WinchesterToday at 1:02 PM

I'm trained in this baby right here.

Mostly.

Aryn Prime #TokenStraight😘Today at 1:03 PM

1) feel like they just gave the hobbits short range weapons and called it a day lol(edited)

CastielToday at 1:04 PM

Before I try to resume writing I'm sitting here trying to think what kind of blade would best serve Cas. His habit of blade flipping makes me think he needs something that handles in reverse efficiently Also his movements Would make fantastic slashing motions with an edged blade

Aryn Prime #TokenStraight😘Today at 1:05 PM

2) Even though the grips wouldn't work well and blade design contributes a lot to the functionality of it.

CastielToday at 1:05 PM

And his habit of blade-blocking with his toothpick

Dean WinchesterToday at 1:05 PM

Sam WinchesterToday at 1:05 PM

This is my baaaaby

CastielToday at 1:05 PM

Honestly? A blade like that would be better by Cas, yes, minus the donkey bone and curse

Aryn Prime #TokenStraight😘Today at 1:05 PM

SAVE IT

Dean WinchesterToday at 1:06 PM

Cas MoC arc when

CastielToday at 1:06 PM

what kind of blade would you give Cas, Shea like specifically for his combat style

Sam WinchesterToday at 1:06 PM

Min

CastielToday at 1:06 PM

is that a khopesh

Sam WinchesterToday at 1:07 PM

Says it's a scimitar but I know better I just can't remember the name It's basically

Aryn Prime #TokenStraight😘Today at 1:07 PM

I don't think that's a Khopesh? At least not a style I've seen

Sam WinchesterToday at 1:07 PM

The Romanian version of the scimitar

CastielToday at 1:07 PM

yeah I guess it's not scythelike enough for a khopesh A kilij? but yeah scimitar is right, or even something of similar design and a little smaller if we wanted to keep him CQC

Sam WinchesterToday at 1:08 PM

I WAS JUST ABOUT TO TYPE THAT Kilij

Sam WinchesterToday at 1:09 PM

They're usually more curved than that one. I guess it COULD qualify as like... a really slim scimitar because of the angle of the curve Lord I gotta get out of the ridiculously curved blade swords. They're meant for slashing from horseback Lets you dodge your horse easier

Aryn Prime #TokenStraight😘Today at 1:10 PM

Looks like a short sword kizlyar

Sam WinchesterToday at 1:11 PM

Yeah that's closer But it has just the right about of curve to be more effective when reversed to ride along the arm

Aryn Prime #TokenStraight😘Today at 1:12 PM

CastielToday at 1:13 PM

A bebut would be good for Cas, it's like a 17 inch blade

Sam WinchesterToday at 1:15 PM

You know what would be REALLY good for Cas, though? And it looks like a piece of grilling equipment

Sam WinchesterToday at 1:15 PM

CastielToday at 1:15 PM

...when ur husband likes bbq but u a warrior

Sam WinchesterToday at 1:16 PM

NO DO YOU REALIZE HOW FUCKING DEADLY CAS WOULD BE WITH A FUCKING SPIKE?

Dean WinchesterToday at 1:16 PM

Dean giving suburban dad a new meaning

Sam WinchesterToday at 1:16 PM

THAT IS A WEAPONI TOLD YOU IT LOOKS LIKE GRILLING EQUIPMENT BUT IT IS A WEAPON

CastielToday at 1:16 PM

Honestly yes and no, I honestly feel like a curved dagger with a slashing edge and a piking tip would be optimal for him Because of the way he sweeps

Sam WinchesterToday at 1:16 PM

Obviously Min A four inch spike Would not be his main weapon But he needs one

CastielToday at 1:17 PM

oh as like a side yeah but then you have the angel blade which is theoretically the same just inefficiently designed

Sam WinchesterToday at 1:17 PM

That's the kind of weapon you use to drain someone's sinuses through the base of their chin

Dean WinchesterToday at 1:17 PM

what

Sam WinchesterToday at 1:18 PM

Another personal favorite

CastielToday at 1:18 PM

and suddenly we're in alistair territory

Sam WinchesterToday at 1:18 PM

I have one at my Dad's house somewhere nah Cas wouldn't use something like that but DAMN if it's not one of my favorite combat weapons

Sam WinchesterToday at 1:21 PM

I have never once in my life Ever thought To throw a push dagger OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

MaggieToday at 1:22 PM

i wouldn't have either, if i hadn't seen other people do it.

CastielToday at 1:22 PM

Cas could fuck some people up with that

Sam WinchesterToday at 1:23 PM

That shit would turn every hand motion you made into a deadly blow holy shit I NEED IT

MaggieToday at 1:23 PM

dude, Cas with that would be terrifying.like, more so than normal.

Sam WinchesterToday at 1:23 PM

Mom MOM MOOOOOOOM IT'S ONLY $36 CAN I HAVE IT

CastielToday at 1:23 PM

can it ship in less than 5 days

MaggieToday at 1:24 PM

so, they've shown that angel blades can be melted down to bullets. can he melt down his blade and reforge it to that?

Sam WinchesterToday at 1:24 PM

Ships within 3 FUCKNOT ENOUGH TIME Portland agenda. I will own that

CastielToday at 1:24 PM

hey shea remember how in the rp ellie was talking about melting down Cas' archangel blade to make it into a totem for the new way of binding him. That blade. Hooked eagle design

Sam WinchesterToday at 1:25 PM

>___> Ooo

Sam WinchesterToday at 1:26 PM

OH THIS FIGHTING STYLE LOOKS FAMILIAR

youtube

#supernatural #spn #angels #angel blades #weapons #castiel

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dysfunctionalnerd · 5 years

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prof lay zelda au??

i,,,, dont know how to add a cut so like,, sorry if this gets long I'm making this up as I go

I guess hersh is link cuz hes like courageous? and hes got like main character syndrome

or maybe zelda cuz hes wicked smart

fuck it hersh is zelda

uhhhhhhhh luke is link?? whacking all this moblin bastards cuz some power crazed thot decided to kidnap hersh cuz hes smart and got a yellow triangle

London hyrule I guess (lorule lol)

it's like hyrule except big Ben and bricks but like castles too I guess

hersh is like a prince but like only in title bc he actually gives all his money away and just lives in this little flat I guess and tries to live his best life despite having this lil yellow mark on his hand

and one day he comes across this like kinda roudy luke kid who at first hes like g od this kid is rude but like then luke brings him like a cuccoo egg bc somehow he learned that that's his fav produce ???????? point is he sees this kid has a big heart and grows fond of him and like adopts him I guess

but then Ganondorf!!!

but it's not ganondorf its ,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, uh,,,, don Paulo

except hes like a fake ganon (think zant) but regardless he thinks he can rule everything and he wants that triforce!!

hersh feels the disturbance when don Paulo is like at it and hes like luke I'm gonna go see what's up cuz like technically I'm still a prince

but luke is like i!! wanna go with you!! and BAM yellow light and holy shit hes got a triforce piece too

and hersh is like wHAT

and like idk hersh is like u cant get involved I dont want u hurt so he like,, leaves without telling luke

turns out his fencing skills fall short of don paulos nast magic given to him and he get Kidnapped like a Loser

and the adventures of luke begins I guess

so like luke is out there solving puzzles and fucking up ancient temples n shit I guess and he meets emmy!! who gives him his horse!!

but it's a donkey

anyways they're best friends now

oh along the way he meets some random ass dude called randall?? luke nonchalantly tells him everything bc hes a roudy kid and suddenly this weirdo is super interested and worried?? weird

luke noticed randall is like Not So Suddenly following him but by the 3rd temple he figures this guy isnt actually getting in the way so it's like whatever I guess

but still creepy so he confronts the guy and hes like Hey!!! What the Fuck!!!

and randall confesses that when hersh and he were kids they lived in a big castle together and were best friends!!!

but then hersh hated the bougie 1% castle life and left without telling randall. bummer!

and Randall's been like searching for him since

now we know why hersh always absolutley refused to give his name to the papers!!

also hes a prince that would totally suck if the media knew it was him

anyway so luke and randall team up now and face don paulo

turns out randall ain't shit at fighting but he does know where some cool ass sword is (think of him as like navi or midna. he provides info)

luke has some generic but kinda powerful sword now yay ! time to fuck up some temple bc randall thinks that's smart

in the temple luke gets some kind of magic violin then??? and he can like,,,,,, aquire the power of the animals r some bs like that

time to head to don paulos

theres this big dialogue where luke is like gIVE ME BACK MY BEST FRIEND and don paulo is like Haha u ain't shit kid

turns out he is and don Paulo gets fucking destroyed

but????? no clue to hershs whereabouts when this fool falls???

and suddenly BAM luke gets taken by the hand by this weird but oddly familiar guy in this funky top hat and top hat man just fucking tears luke away from the now crumbling castle room place

luke is like hey What The Fuck

and top hat man is like you have a terrible fate ahead of you but you must save the prince

did I forget to mention luke doesnt know hersh is a prince

so luke is like prince????????

and top hat man is like yea so now u gotta go to this one shithole village nobody knows of and speak to the one the call buffoon

and the top hat man vanishes in a cryptic wave of leaves I guess

randall was there I guess but he only saw top hat man for like 1 second at the end and just fucking sCREAMS

and luke is like what the fUCK is going on

and randall is like do u not know??? r u serious??? but figures it's best he not know yet if this is what top hat man intended

so they go to shithole village and ???? it is not a buffoon, but flora!!

and this time flora is IMPORTANT and VITAL to the plot

flora is like hello they call me buffoon but I'm actually just a lesbian girl everyone here is just home of phobia

and luke is like wow hey cool literally the rest of London hyrule doesnt care pls leave shithole village

and flora is like I cant!! I'm protecting the master sword!

the master sword

floral like dont fcking touch it

luke touches it like an idiot

so luke pulls that shit out and darkness sweeps over the place

and oh dear heres the root of don paulos power!! turns out is Descoganon behind it all

luke tries to fight descole but like too powerful so he gets a Defeat

descoles like buahahahahaha u fool this isnt even my final form and he fuckin dives to finish off luke

but!

top hat man!

he like appears in front of luke and is devoured but descoganons darkness

but before that his top hat falls off and !!!!!!!! wow what a surprise its hersh

luke is like NO I was a FOOL I was too BRASH!! I am not courageous, but dumb!

and Randall's crying I guess but hes like it's not ur fault

and floras like I'm mad at u for pulling out that sword but I mean hes right in order to defeat descole u need to strike him with that sword

so of to descoganons we go!

oh yeah flora joined the team bc turns out shes a fucking BADASS magician

also she constantly gives randall shit for not being able to fight

you thought you heard the last of Emmy but no!! shes back again bc I said so!!!

she wants to join the team too and luke is like cool more horses

everyone's has a cool ass horse except luke who has his dumb lil DONKEY

hes pissed but also grateful he doesnt have to walk by foot but also a fucking donkey???? seriously???

and emmy's like fucking deal with it you whiny ass man

so yeah master sword and magic violin in hand luke calls upon the animals to aid him in battle and it's off to descoles we go!!!

wow this place is DARK

and also the iconic castle that everyone cherishes is now in ruins

and in the most concentrated area of darkness is hersh trapped, glowing just a little bit but fading fast

and luke is like FACE ME DESCOLE U COWARD

and he does

and hes like boutta lose again and flora is like NO! I awaken ur full power!!

and his triforce glows!!!! he is powerful! full of courage!

but descole starts fucking tearing appart in laughter

hes glowing too! he has a triforce too!! he has them all

if you've ever played any zelda game ever this is when descole turns into some pig

but alas by the power of the magic animal violin and the master sword he is defeated

flora dealt the most damage and at the end she was like luke u gotta stab him now and he was like uh ok I guess

voila!! hersh is no longer trapped in darkness!! nor is the rest of London

oh yeah Randall's gay for hersh duh first thing he does is run to him being like remember me???? doesnt matter I'm nursing you to health now

bc I SAID SO

oh but first luke runs to him crying and hugs him and is like pls dont ever leave like that again dad

and hersh is like did.... did u call me dad??? and he cries too and they hug

(except halfway through hersh collapses and luke is struggling to try and keep him from falling. how did this weak boy defeat such an all powerful being?????)

yeah hersh and randall get married flora gets a gf and happily ever after

oh and claire is like the goddess of London who made the damn triforce bc why the fucking hell not

so anyways yeah uhhhhhh someone tell nintendo to fucking hire me

#long post #professor layton #the legend of zelda #zelda au #hershel layton #luke triton #emmy altava #flora reinhold #randall ascot #ranlay #sorry its 6am i havent slept yet and i got struck with a goddamn stroke of fucking genius #im not making this fanfic tho someone else can do that if they want i guess #claire foley

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feelingsdusk-writes · 6 years

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Runes and all kinds of things

Chapter 16

Stiles risks a glance over the brim of his book at Peter and then returns quickly to the page he was reading when their eyes meet and he gets an arched eyebrow from the man. He barely contains the need to facepalm and wince at his own lack of cool and tries to cover it by shrugging as if nonchalant. The answering huffed snort makes him humph and turn his nose up in the air.

As much as he can with it still buried in his book to cover the flush he can feel rising in his face and the top of his ears.

(Smooth, Stilinski. Real smooth.)

But he can't help it, he can't read Peter at all right now. It's weird and confusing to some degree after having been so open, so raw, just a moment ago, but at the same time not. It feels as if they took a step forward and then backed that same step again right afterwards. Maybe even two, because Peter has never been this blank-faced in his presence. Or, actually, if Stiles recalls well, in anyone's presence. Peter is always sassing -provoking, testing, manipulating- people in one way or another. He uses his words, body language and facial expressions as weapons and he does it terrifyingly well. It never fails to get a response from the people around him, Stiles included, and now their absence rattles him.

Stiles stills suddenly. His eyes dart briefly towards Peter again and then go back to the page. He bites his lip and frowns contemplatively.

Maybe this isn’t a step back after all? Peter uses his words, body language and facial expressions as weapons. To defend himself, to get what he wants, to attack. Weapons. He’s used them against Stiles before, so it's not that he's an exception. It's not that he thinks Stiles harmless, useless or inconsequential either. Even back then, in that parking lot, he thought Stiles had the potential to become dangerous, a threat to him. Enough of a threat, in fact, that he wanted to have Stiles on his side and he offered when could have just taken. That not only hasn’t changed but it has gotten worse.

(Stiles couldn’t trap him and make him choke on mountain ash with a mere thought before.)

But he's blank-faced now. Or rather... relaxed? Maybe?

Stiles sighs, slouching on his seat, and contains the need to throw a dirty look at Peter for being so damn difficult. He must do a lousy job because the man smirks at him self-satisfied.

"You're such a dick," Stiles grouches long-sufferingly and Peter's grin widens even more.

Smarmy bastard.

Of course, there's a chance Stiles is reading him wrong. With Peter it's hard to tell, because he has more layers than three millefeuille combined and even more masks, but Stiles is pretty sure that it's not a front he's putting up this time. The ball is in Peter's court in any case. Stiles will have to accept whatever he chooses to do and react accordingly.

He reaches for the baking journal again and catches Peter's eyes again. The man's eyebrows go high as he eyes the already finished death by chocolate cookies -the normal kind, he knows, because he's seen Stiles take a bite and then perform an awkward dance because his mouth was burning- cooling on the tray with an skeptical eye.

“Just because I can't risk Lydia finding a way to murder me remotely," and she would, of that he has no doubt, “it doesn't mean I can't use this.”

“Hmm,” Peter hums, lips twitching. The way he reclines in his chair makes Stiles want to grumble about the unfairness of it all. Because while Stiles is slouching, you can't call what Peter is doing that. "What are you planning?"

“Revenge, what else? A petty one but equally effective in this case given whom my target is,” Stiles answers flippantly and Peter snorts. "But no, no more baking for now. It's for Monday, so I'll bake on Sunday. I don't bake any substandard goods even if it's for revenge, you know," he sniffs. "Right now, runes. I really need to crack this before the alpha pack makes another move. Like hell I'm getting chased around like a mouse again," he grumbles. "Pity I can't just poison them all and be done with it."

"Pity indeed," Peter agrees, terribly amused by the pout Stiles is sporting.

An alarm goes off on Stiles' phone and he startles. Then he remembers what it is for and he shoots from his seat towards the TV, leaving a bewildered Peter behind. The familiar intro to La Dulce Impostora is already running, so he hurries to set the recording so he doesn't miss anything. There's a pointed silence at his back and he feels himself starting to blush.

"Shut up," he grouses.

"I didn't say a word," Peter lilts.

"Stop judging me, dude," Stiles grumbles with cheeks that are starting feel really hot. "La Dulce Impostora is super addictive, ok? There's a dying abuelita that is the cutest, most charming thing ever... Seriously, that woman is a queen. All hail Queen Isabela, may she reign forever over us lowly mortals," he preaches with an earnest expression. "But yeah. There's abuelita Isabela, a fake cancer that turns out to be true and an even faker pregnancy that doesn't... but kinda does? Depending on how you look at it, I suppose..." he hums thoughtfully, turning to set the recording. "And amnesia, lots of amnesia. It's so fucking ridiculous. But finally, after everything, they're about to elope and Camila Valeria is going to ruin it all. Again. And it's the fifth time. I can't take it anymore, ok? I just want them on a beach in Bali happily drinking coconuts so I can be free and go back to my life, ok?"

"Well, I didn't really understand half of what you said. Congratulations, that must be some sort of record." Damn the man and his sass. Relaxed or not, Stiles served him that one on a silver platter and even Stiles himself wouldn't have let it pass without answer. "Also, I hate to be the bearer of bad news-"

"Yeah, your face tells me you're in despair right now," Stiles quips back drolly.

"-but according to this site, that one still has more than ten episodes left."

Stiles gapes, a horrified expression rapidly taking over his features. "You're shitting me."

"I... shit you not," Peter answers seriously.

A beat, two beats, and then Stiles is running back to the table to look at the laptop's screen. He doesn't slow down as much as he should and he collides against Peter's back with a soft grunt. He doesn't pay it any mind and he reaches for the laptop. Sure enough, there's more than ten episodes left... Thirteen to be exact.

"Oh, god, no" Stiles whispers, the whine escaping him unbidden. For a moment he feels really tempted to just read about how it ends because thirteen one-hour episodes yet to go... and so far the only thing that hasn't happened on that storyline is a zombie apocalypse. Seriously, there's even been an attempt to overthrow the current government! Just. No. Ok. No, he will not. He'll stick right to the end. Like a captain. "I will go down with this ship," he pronounces darkly, prompting a surprised laugh from Peter.

Stiles contains a petulant pout. He raises his eyebrows and narrows his eyes at the man, daring him to say anything about it. Peter smirks and looks about to speak (no doubt to sass Stiles) but suddenly, windows start opening and closing on the screen without either of them touching a thing and they both blink surprised.

"Yesss! Danny, my man!" Stiles exclaims happily, throwing his arms up in the air. Peter grabs his elbow before it impacts with his nose and rolls his eyes but doesn't say anything otherwise. "Awesome! Now we'll be able to track those fuckers without risking our necks. And who knows, I may still get to poison them."

Peter laughs again and Stiles smirks in answer.

---

Much later after Danny stopped doing his own kind of magic on Stiles' laptop, Peter is dividing his attention between something on the screen and a notebook he brought with him. Stiles is kinda itchy to know what's in there because everything Peter brings has been fantastic so far, but he knows better than to try to take a peek because Peter hasn't offered. Privacy and all that shit.

Stiles has the strong feeling that Peter is testing him. For what purpose exactly, he doesn't know, but he's pretty sure that he is. First with how he provoked him into a fight and now with this. And there have probably been more tests that he hasn't even noticed. In any case, if Stiles finds that notebook unattended later he won't be surprised.

(It all comes down to trust, doesn't it?)

Well, he'll cross that bridge when he stumbles upon it. For now, he'd better focus on runes or at this rate he'll be werewolf chow and Peter's tests won't matter anymore.

And, god, it's so frustrating.

Runework sucks. Big. Sweaty. Donkey. Balls.

He knows the actual runes and would be able to draw them with his eyes closed by now. That's not the problem. That was the easy part, actually. The problem is that the placement in the actual item matters. Placement relative to the other runes matters. Size relative to the item AND relative to the other runes matters. Meaning? One tiny mistake fucks it all.

Meaning that it's been one hour already and he has done nothing more than waste a lot of paper and bite the cap of his pen so much that it looks like a war casualty.

Because, on top of that, just because a rune has an established translation doesn't mean that the effect that rune will produce matches it. Because two runes together get a complete different meaning than those two runes separately. And if they're linked it's even worse. The meanings don't add up, they transform each other. Hence, runework sucks. Big. Sweaty. Donkey. Balls.

Stiles reaches for his phone and then takes a selfie, sporting an epic pout. He hits send and then lets his head fall onto the table with a beautifully resounding thud. Peter snorts.

(Also, Peter is a dick that finds too much entertainment in witnessing Stiles' suffering.)

(Or maybe this is another test.)

Without looking, he makes a ball from the paper with his latest failed experiments and throws it in the man's direction. With his luck, it probably falls short, but it's the sentiment that counts, right?

"You're such a dick," Stiles grumbles.

"Yes, we've already established that," Peter drawls, the tapping of his fingers against the keyboard never stopping.

And he flashes him the finger for good measure, because he doesn't need good aim for it to reach the man. Peter snorts again and Stiles pouts sullenly into the table.

Ok, ok. How do you eat a bear? Bite by bite.

He sighs and comes out from hiding reluctantly. He looks at the page where he has noted down the few functioning arrays that can be found in the many books about runes that Stiles has, and decides that trial and error will it have to be. Sorry, Master Yoda, as sacrilegious as it sounds, your teachings hold no place in here. He may get grounded for the rest of his natural life for blowing up the house, but it's not like he has any other options at this point.

He grabs a clean sheet of paper and looks at it thoughtfully. He may as well start with the simpler ones. According to his first chosen runework's specific diagram, the array should cover one third of the item he wants to apply it on. But the question is: is that proportion regarding the size or the mass of the item? Does this mean that Stiles will have to become a master at calculating the mass of things on the go? Because that could pose a big problem.

"Excuse me, Mr. or Ms. Enemy-of-the-Week, can you tell me your height and weight? And what did you say was your last meal? And the quantity of said meal? You wouldn't be constipated per chance, would you? Oh, I'm just curious, you know, ADHD, I get hung up on the strangest things. And since you're killing me anyways, why not share? Oh, you don't speak English? Yo hablo español si lo prefieres... Oh, you don't have vocal cords at all? My apologies. I'll just make an estimate, thanks for your time anyways and sorry for the inconvenience," he pipes softly in a falsetto voice. He studiously doesn't look Peter's way. "Because that would go well..."

His phone chimes and he can't help but cackle at Allison's answering selfie. She looks filthy, sweaty and her face is so red that it gives the impression that she's completely out of breath. She's sporting an equally epic pout and it's hilarious.

Stiles takes a deep breath after he lets go of the phone and shakes himself mentally. Ok, whatever, no big deal. He'll find a way like he always does. First, he has to make an array work to begin with.

Because nothing ever comes easy -and if runes are really such a rare practice as the books say, that suggests a high level of difficulty-, he assumes it's mass. Ok, awesome (note the sarcasm). So volume and density. The paper is a rectangular form, so the volume would be length x width x height. And as for density... The Internet it is. He stands up and goes to the laptop Peter is using. The man looks at him curiously but turns the screen to face Stiles. A quick search reveals paper's density, which gives him the last tool he needs to calculate the mass, and in turn the size the array should have.

Now, where to place it? Up, in the middle or down? Centered, on a side or on a corner? Left, center or right? Because the texts say nothing about that and if the size of the array and each rune regarding each other are so important, Stiles doubts the placing doesn't matter.

Experimenting it is.

(Here's to hoping that all his limbs remain in place by the time he's done.)

He picks up the pencil and copies the array right on the center of the paper. He concentrates on activating it and gets a cloud of mountain ash to the face for his troubles when Pikachu comes out to play so to speak. He sighs and has to concentrate on getting him back to his skin instead. He tries again and gets the same exact results. After the sneezing attack ends, he pouts but gives it another go. By the tenth time this happens, he's ready to tear his hair in frustration and the ash is moving around agitatedly from limb to limb and then even to his face, which gives him another uncontrollable attack of sneezes.

"Are you for real?" he grunts frustrated at Pikachu and his ears seem to flop down, just like dogs when they don't know what they're doing wrong because they think they're obeying what you told them to do.

Stiles blinks. Maybe he's not directing his spark belief whassit (what, he doesn't have a name for it) at the paper but at the ash instead? He hums thoughtfully and makes a soothing gesture at Pikachu, prompting him to return to his skin again. He closes his eyes and concentrates. His magic works with belief, right? So believe he will. He opens his eyes and looks at the paper again.

"Yes!" he crows happily when he picks up the sheet of paper from a corner and instead of flopping down like it should, it remains rigid. "Look at this, Peter! Hah! I'm a genius! Bow down in my mighty presence!"

"I'll be right on that, give me a minute," Peter deadpans drolly. He waves a hand towards the oven trays. "Here, meanwhile have a cookie."

"I made those," he grunts at the man, his face falling into an unimpressed expression.

"Are you saying they're bad and that's why they don't qualify as a prize for your success?"

"Don't you dare!" Stiles gasps, scandalized. "Everything I bake is superb!" Peter raises an eyebrow. "Well, there might have been a few FUBAR situati-" Peter raises the other eyebrow. "Damn you," he grumbles. "Gimme the damn cookie. I deserve it. Because my cookies are totally prize-worthy. You heard that? Totally and without a doubt. Nothing beats them."

"Maybe add a glass of milk to be sure? And two cookies instead of one? Added value, you know. It was a big success after all," Peter quips, picking up the ball of paper Stiles threw at him before and throwing it with all the rest pooling at Stiles' feet without even looking.

Smarmy bastard.

"Stop dissing my wonderful cookies," Stiles grouches, throwing a narrow-eyed glare at the man.

"Me? You wound me, sweetheart," Peter replies amusedly, getting up to prepare a couple of cookies and a glass of milk and put them in front of Stiles.

"Smarmy bastard," Stiles mutters, this time aloud, as he takes a bite. "Just for this, you're not getting any-" Stiles voice becomes an intelligible grumble when he hears the tattletale crunchy sound to his right, where Peter is leaning to pick up the paper with the functioning array.

Stiles humphs at Peter, whose smirk widens, and he rolls his eyes. Then he covers an amused grin because he knows the man's impressed because he nearly forgot to leave the paper behind when he went back to his seat... and because he snatched another cookie on his way.

Stiles goes back to the paper and sets off to finding out if the array can be turned off. It takes him a few tries but it's possible. If he erases the array, it stops working, it seems. Or is it because he stopped believing it would work? He'll have to ask Peter to participate later. In any case, awesome, success! Now more tests, he thinks rubbing his hands excitedly.

He writes the array, turns it on once again and then he sets it aside. He spreads more sheets around the table as he starts changing the placement of the array on them, activating it as soon as he writes it and noting down the time on a separate notebook. That way he'll kill two birds with a stone and he'll be able to check a few things: the time it lasts once activated and how many he's able to activate at the same time.

(Because he knows that a spark works with belief, but is this power of his finite? Druids depend on outside forces to practice runework and rituals, but where does a spark's power come from?)

Once he has twelve variations of the placement, he tests them against each other. Then he makes size variations and, after that, size and placement variations.

Two hours later, he has reached several conclusions: yes, size matters; yes, placement matters; yes, his spark is finite to a point.

The size sets the range of effect of the magic and the placement sets the point of impact. So, with the hardening array he's testing right now, if Stiles sets right in the center a smaller array than the one-third ratio the book said to use, the edges of the paper don't harden and flop down like they should. Stiles feels giddy with the possibilities this brings to the table. Of course, this experiment was done on a pretty simple form, it will obviously be more complicated with other more irregular ones. But it's a start, right? Stiles has a feeling that he won't be needing to calculate everything's mass exactly, just have a general idea to work with, unless he's doing a very precise work. Of course, to get to the point of not needing to calculate it every time, he'll have do at lot of testing and practicing.

And as for his spark being finite... Even with the snack he had before (which he suspects Peter gave him on purpose because he somehow knew he'd need the extra energy and it kind of makes Stiles want to grin), he's ravenous right now and it has nothing to do with the hour it is. It feels like when he comes back after one of those gruelling lacrosse practices and he'd eat all the fridge's contents... and then the actual fridge itself. So this means that using it tires him as exercising would. It remains to be seen if working out (so to speak) will raise his stamina or if his power is a set value that he'll have to work around.

All in all, not bad for two hours of work. Now that he knows some of the rules (because he's sure he'll find more as he goes) he can start experimenting. But first.

"Dinner?" he pipes looking at the lasagne like a man would at water in a scorching hot desert.

As if on cue, his stomach emits an epic growl that lasts way longer than it should and he feels himself start blushing. Peter smirks at him.

Stiles flips him the finger again.

(Peter is way too smug about that, the smarmy bastard.)

---

"Mmm," Peter hums contemplatively as he takes the first bite.

"Mmm?" Stiles replies, already on his third bite. So sue him, he's starving, ok?

"Mmm," Peter continues humming, almost reluctantly.

"Mmm, huh?" Stiles replies again, smirking.

"Mmhm," Peter says as if unimpressed.

Stiles grins and Peter rolls his eyes.

---

Just after dinner, Stiles gets to work with the second simplest array he has available. The first one was a hardening one (to put it simply, the explanation in the book was way more technical and complicated) and this one is an elasticity one. Whether it augments or reduces elasticity remains to be seen though.

Just like with the hardening one, this array consists of four runes. Stiles' guess is that that's the simplest it can get. Because probably just putting one rune would be too open and thus, the effect would be unpredictable and uncontrollable. So basically there's a primary rune and then at least three secondary ones that delimit the first one. The placing and the size respecting the primary rune define the extent of the effect they have on it. That's probably why there are some subtle differences between both of the arrays that he has, even if they have the same diamond structure.

Ok, good, he can work with that. And since he now knows what effect the placing has, he writes the array exactly on the center of the paper and activates it. He picks it up and looks at it thoughtfully. At first glance there's no apparent change on it. Then he pulls from both ends.

"Whoa!" he exclaims surprised when it stretches out like gum.

Well, it's a little harder than gum and unlike it, when he stops pulling it immediately goes back to its original form with no evidence of what happened left behind. It has a limit of how much it can extend though, so Stiles guesses that the runes alter the original characteristics of the item they were placed on, as opposed to giving it a new set value. So if the original item had been stretchy to begin with, it would have extended even more than the paper. Conclusion: arrays alter the items exponentially.

(Oh, god, the possibilities.)

So the primary rune is elasticity and its size right now is the perfect size to have an effect on the whole paper, but what if he plays with the secondary ones? From what he has gathered, those only alter the primary rune, not the actual item itself.

He has two different arrays with the same structure and, save from the primary rune, the same runes in that structure. And those secondary runes have the same size respecting the primary rune on both arrays. What do those runes do? Because the meaning they have doesn't shed any light on that.

So if he gets the left side one and makes it bigger, what happens? And what if he changes the one at the bottom? Or the one on the left? What if he changes two of them at the same time? Or the three? What if...

---

Stiles startles a little when the lights of the kitchen are suddenly on. He turns to look at Peter perplexed, but the man isn't paying him any attention at all. He squints around and takes in the sun's position in the sky. He hadn't even noticed he was starting to struggle to see.

He lets the pen he was keeping in his mouth fall into his hand and looks at the mess he's made. Maybe it's time to tidy up a bit, he thinks grimacing.

Well, it was worth it, he supposes... or at least a necessary evil.

Some of his tests were a complete bust and some weren't, but he's learned a lot. He now knows that this type of structure is used to alter the physical characteristics of the item it's placed on. -And it has to be an object. All the books were adamant about that, about runes not being used on living beings.- He's learned what each of the runes in this particular array is for and how their size relative to the primary affects it. He's also knows now that, at least in this kind of structure, all the runes need to have the same orientation or it won't work. The secondary runes are set ones that can't be changed and the primary is the one that sets the characteristic the array will alter. Moreover, two runes can be linked as the primary rune, but anymore than that and it fails, which he supposes is where the more complicated arrays come in. Furthermore, just because those particular runes are set ones for this kind of array, it doesn't mean that they can't act as primaries too.

And all of that was just from two different arrays that have the same structure. He has three more structures to go through. And then he has to experiment with items with different sizes, forms, compositions...

(This is not a bear, it's a damn whale.)

He kind of wants to scream but, hey, he still has all his fingers and the house is not only standing but hasn't been damaged at all. Only a full stack of papers has been sacrificed to the cause. Yay for him.

"Ah, father, you man of little faith," he mutters, slouching on his seat and closing his eyes tiredly.

There's no way he can-

Really loud rock music blares suddenly from the laptop's speakers, startling Stiles into almost falling from his chair. He looks at Peter, who looks as surprised as Stiles and is also trying to lower down the volume as fast as he can.

"What the hell, Peter," Stiles gasps, one hand still over his thundering heart and the other grasping at the chair in a trembling iron fist.

"I was trying to put the soundtrack to your little moment there, but this is not what I expected," the man explains perplexed. "I mean, the song is called Crushing Defeat, but I wouldn't say a crushing defeat sounds like that. Not that I would know, but." And then the man has the gall to shrug nonchalantly before continuing speaking. "I should have definitely gone for my first option."

And he hits play.

Maybe I'm foolish

Maybe I'm blind

Thinking I can see through this

And see what's behind

Got no way to prove it

So maybe I'm blind

But I'm only human after all

I'm only human after all

And he stops the music right there.

Stiles, whose face had gone from startled to unimpressed in the blink of an eye, goes right into the evil eye territory equally fast.

"Remind me again who's been dead before?" Stiles says, his voice saccharine sweet.

"Sure! Anything for you, sweetheart," Peter answers, equally sweet. "I'll remind you anytime you want that not even Death could win against me. Anything to inspire you when you're feeling low."

And he turns back with a self-satisfied smirk to continue whatever he was doing before.

That.

Smarmy.

Bastard.

Stiles will show him a crushing defeat.

(Just for that, he's hoarding all the cookies, dammit.)

---

It has somehow turned into a contest.

It's way past 4 a.m. and neither of them is bowing out. Stiles has gone through three more structures, gained more knowledge and even more rules. Peter has at least filled ten pages of that journal of his and Stiles has caught him covertly eyeing the coffee cupboard more than once. At this rate, John Stilinski will arrive to see them either conked out over their respective works or stubbornly resisting but about to pass out.

At this point Stiles wishes his dad would appear so he could order him to bed and he'd have the excuse to bow out, but he'd rather face another run around the pool with all the alphas chasing after him than admit to that.

He eyes the cookie plate and mourns its empty state. Then, with a sigh, he turns his attention back the last structure that he has. So far he has confirmed a lot of the things that he already suspected. The more complicated an array gets, the more things you're trying to change on an object... or the more complicated the object's composition or the being you're placing it on is. But so far Stiles has gathered that if you place an array on a living being, you better brace yourself because it's so complicated that it has disastrous effects more often than not. Which is no good... unless you're banking on it going wrong to get out of a pinch. Stiles certainly wouldn't mind making an alpha go boom with failed runework, that's for sure.

Well, in any case he now has an idea of how the arrays are expanded and of how to link different arrays to cover the more irregular objects or to make domino effects. Of course, he just has the theory and he'll have to experiment a lot but it's something that's not a "crushing defeat".

He just wants to die.

Stiles barely refrains from hitting his head repeatedly against the table to wake himself up forcefully, but only because he still has some dignity left. He looks at the stress ball that he got out to fidget with by hour... whichever it was, he's lost count. It used to belong to Scott, from when he hurt his hand and he needed to strengthen his muscles. It's fuchsia with green polka dots all over it and it couldn't be uglier even if it tried, so it wouldn't be a big loss if Stiles accidentally murders it.

The material is polyurethane, if he's not wrong. The thought of getting up to check its mass on the laptop is too much to bear, so Stiles uses his phone to search for it. When he finally has it, he muses over what he needs to change on it to make it bounce. Elasticity, for one, of course. Resistance maybe? And what else to generate the kinetic energy he needs? How much does he need to add or subtract to its original characteristics to get what he wants?

It takes a while, but he decides what structure to use and the runes that form part of it in the end. Then he calculates the size it should have and, after fretting over it for a bit, he decides that you only live once is the attitude to have and starts writing it directly on the ball. After a moment he realizes that pencil is not the way to go and changes to a sharpie. Either the ball is really old or the sharpie is too pointed, but instead of just writing on its surface, he's partially etching the array. He bites his lip but decides to go on. Then he activates it.

Something catches his attention at the edge of his vision and he turns to find Peter about to fall asleep. Stiles grins triumphantly and picks up his phone to get the visual evidence to lord his victory over the man when he wakes up later. Because he's going to sleep once he has the picture, dammit, he's dying.

Right as he's snapping the picture, the stress ball rolls over the edge and falls to the tiled floor before he can catch it...

... then it ricochets silently but with deadly speed towards the ceiling, where it rebounds again, gaining even more speed than it already had.

"Oh, fuck," Stiles whispers wide-eyed. "Peter!" he screams right before it hits the man's head, sending him sprawling to the floor. "Oh, fuck!"

"What the-!" Peter groans, somehow managing to look both like a spooked kitten and as if a train has just rolled over him at the same time.

"Down!" Stiles warns him again as it comes back like a tiny missile. Peter, the idiot, tries to grab it as it passes by. "NO!" he shouts but to no avail.

Peter gets thrown forward and out of the kitchen, where he proceeds to crash onto the living room's lamp before he can finally stop the momentum, successfully managing to not make another victim out of the TV. The ball continues bouncing and gaining even more speed.

"Oh, fuck," Stiles whines.

---

When the sheriff comes back home, he's greeted by a very odd sight. There's a trash bag full of things in a corner and several items, which includes two lamps, several pictures and a small side table, are missing. There are a lot of round marks over several pieces of furniture, the walls and the ceiling, and quite a few of those round marks look carved in and scorched. From where he is, he can see that the glass from two of the kitchen cupboards is gone and that there are two perfect holes on the dishwasher's door. There's a plant without its pot just sitting there on the living room's table and the missing pot is right at the center of the same table, downturned. Last but not least, Peter Hale and Stiles are completely out, one over the other, on the couch, dark bags scarily prominent under their eyes.

John blinks. And then he blinks even more.

"Well, the house is still standing," he mutters as he reaches for the pot to take the plant off of the table, because he has to start somewhere to fix the mess, after all, and this is really the only thing he can do right now. The rest he'll take care of after he wakes up.

"NO!!!!" both Stiles and Peter shout, snapping awake and bolting, just as he lifts the pot from the table.

---

The plant is still on the living room table but the pot holding the ewok -what, it's a small and harmless looking (fur)ball that's really dangerous when provoked, dad, where's the lie?- is in the toilet, with the door closed for good measure.

(There's another hole in the dishwasher's door and they've lost the two vases that had survived the first assault. Only Peter's speed saved the laptop and it was only by a hair's breadth.)

(Stiles is secretly happy that the TV and the recorder haven't been casualties. He had to pull a The Bodyguard™ move and there's a round shaped bruise already showing on his stomach, but it was well worth it. He'd die if he missed yesterday's episode of La Dulce Impostora.)

(Not that he'll say that aloud, of course.)

It's mid-afternoon and they're having breakfast and not feeling any shame about it. Stiles feels like a limp noodle and is ravenous. He has probably already eaten his weight in pancakes with an obscene amount of syrup, but he has no intention of stopping any time soon.

He looks at Peter's plate covetuously and the man's lips twitch, but he makes an offering gesture (sassy and a little mocking, but still offering) instead of lording his remaining pancake over Stiles. It takes a lot to not descend over it like a rabid beast, and even more to rise from his seat and make more instead. He even shares them with his dad and Peter, so someone should give him medal for the feat.

Just as he's taking the first bite, the cupboard's door, which was barely hanging from its hinges, makes a piteous sound and falls first to the counter and then to the ground, dragging a plate to it's ultimate demise with it. The lack of door reveals that almost all the mugs inside said cupboard have been smashed to smithereens at some point.

"So," his dad says, looking caught between horrified amusement and resignation.

"You said I'd be grounded if the house wasn't standing," Stiles points out, mouth full and all.

Peter snorts and takes a sip of his coffee. Unlike Stiles and John, the bastard doesn't look tired at all. He's sitting on the chair as if it's his throne. Stiles is a petty creature and he really wants to call bullshit because he knows that's the man's third cup of coffee, so he can't be feeling as good as he's making it look. The need to shoot a dirty look at him for the unfairness of it is almost overwhelming.

"I said I'd definitely ground you if it wasn't standing, not that I wouldn't ground you for any other damaged property."

"What- You- I claim false advertising!" Stiles gasps with a hand over his heart.

"Terribly sorry about that," John deadpans. "I'm sure I have some complaint forms somewhere. I'll make sure your reclamation reaches the proper authorities." He takes a long swallow of coffee and sighs contentedly. "Which would be me, so reclamation dismissed."

"Abuse! I claim abuse! No, don't hand me another imaginary reclamation form!"

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#runes and all kinds of things #teen wolf fics #my writing #teen wolf #steter

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therainroguefanfiction · 4 years

Text

🔥 ℝise Ⱥbove I̾t ◈ Chapter 016 [A Hard Lesson]

📑 Table of Contents | ◂Backward

Word Count: 2,938

⊱ ────── {⋅. 🔥 .⋅} ────── ⊰

〈“There’s a moment in your bones, When the fire takes over. Blood is running, Heart is pumping, as the battle gets closer.” The Score, “Unstoppable”〉

⊱ ────── {⋅. 🔥 .⋅} ────── ⊰

I stifled a yawn as I walked to school. Man, why did I stay up so fucking late playing with that angry chihuahua? I had only planned on playing for a few hours, but his trash-talking got under my skin and I refused to let him win bragging rights. Our match-up didn’t end until three in the morning when his mom came in and screamed at him to go to bed.

“You look like shit,”

“Fuck off, Bakugo.”

He grunted, yawning loudly from beside me. “You didn’t win,”

“Neither did you,”

“I would have if not for the old hag!”

I hummed, not really having the energy to argue with him. He got the same amount of sleep that I did, so how can he have the energy to be so loud? Kids these days are nuts. The classroom was full of energy too, but it died down a bit when we entered. Guess they remembered our little spat the day before.

My eyes landed on Midoriya, who was chatting happily with Ochako and Iida. Now that I know for certain that he’s Toshi’s successor, I feel this strong need to protect him and look out for him. Toshi can’t be with this kid at all times, but I’m his classmate, I can.

I stepped over to his desk, readjusting my bad. “Izuku Midoriya, right?”

His cheeks grew red. “Y-Yes. Did you need something, W-Winchester?”

“Hm, you can drop the last name. Let’s be friends.”

“Hah?!” Bakugo grabbed the back of my shirt, attempting to yank me back and away from the greenette. “Why the fuck are you tryin’ to befriend that nerd?!”

I scowled and whipped around, slamming my foot into his stomach. “Will you shut the fuck up? It’s too damn early for your issues!”

“Woah, she just attacked Bakugo!”

“They fought after class yesterday, too.”

“Yeah, what was that about?”

“Oh my god, what if they’re dating?!”

Oh for fuck’s sake. I ran my hand down my face, turning to look at the green-haired boy, my glare softening when he jumped. “Oi, Izuku.”

“I-I don’t mind being your f-friend, Winche – ah, Jen!”

“Oi, you damn bitch,” Bakugo growled, throwing at punch toward my head. I kneeled down, swiping his legs out from under him with my own. He jumped up quicker than I anticipated, explosions going off in his palms. I stepped back, fixing my stance as my hands started to heat up, fire licking the skin of my palms.

“K-Kacchan! W-Winchester!” Izuku looked between the two of us, his expression full of worry.

“Stop this immediately!” Iida demanded.

Bakugo smirked. “Fuck video games, I’ll beat your ass in real life instead!”

I grunted. “You can try. No guarantees I can control myself.”

“Enough,” Aizawa slid the door open, narrowed eyes going between the two of us. “Sit down,”

We stared each other down for a moment before I stood up straight, closing my palms to extinguish the flames. Smoke rose from my hands as I headed to my seat.

“This ain’t over, bitch!”

“Yeah, whatever.” I sighed, falling onto my seat. What is it about this brat that brings the worst out in me? He makes me wanna punch shit. He’s gotta have a second quirk that lets him push people’s buttons. And look, Peppermint is glaring at me again. Does he have a hard-on for Bakugo or some shit?

“Today’s training will be a little different. You’ll have three instructors – me, All Might, and another faculty member will be keeping tabs on you.”

Three teachers? Is this because of the break-in yesterday?

“Sir! What kind of training is this?”

Aizawa held out a card, the word ‘rescue’ written in big, bold letters. “Rescue. You’ll be dealing with natural disasters – shipwrecks, stuff like that.”

Gee, what a nice selection we have. Just shipwrecks, huh? I rolled my eyes. This sounds like it’s gonna be a pain.

“Disasters, huh? Sounds like we’re in for a big workout…”

“Totally!”

“Real hero stuff… This is what separates the men from the boys. I’m shaking with excitement!”

“Finally, I’ll get to show off how good I am in water, ribbit.”

“Guys, I’m not finished yet,” Aizawa said, annoyance lacing his voice. “What you wear in this exercise is up to you, I know you’re excited about costumes.” He clicked a remote and the shelves extended from the wall carrying the metal cases. “But keep in mind, you haven’t gotten used to them yet and they might limit your abilities. This special training is at an off-campus facility so we’ll be taking a bus to get there. That’s all. Start getting ready.”

Rescue training… I wonder what kinda shit we’re gonna be doing. I stifled a yawn as I grabbed my case and followed the girls to the locker room. Man, my stomach is killing me, I shoulda ate breakfast, but if I had, I woulda been late for class. I sluggishly pulled my costume on, ending up being one of the last girls to leave the room. The group was gathered outside, waiting for Aizawa to give them the order to get on the bus.

A whistle filled the air. “Gather ’round, class 1-A! Using your student numbers, form two lines so we can load the bus efficiently!” Iida ordered, blowing the whistle again.

Man, that shit’s fucking loud. He takes this shit way too seriously, what is with him? I ignored the group, stepping onto the bus and making a beeline for the backseat so I could get some peace and quiet. Iida was the last person on the bus, falling into his seat with his head in his hands.

“The bus’ open layout ruined my boarding strategy…”

“Iida, you really need to chill.”

“If we’re pointing out the obvious, then there’s something I wanna say. About you, actually.” Frog turned to Izuku, whose cheeks flushed at the sudden attention.

“About me? What is it, Asui?” His voice reflected the nervousness he was suddenly feeling.

“I told you to call me Tsu.”

“Oh yeah… right…”

“That power of yours…” she continued. “Isn’t it a lot like All Might’s?”

My body tensed and I leaned forward in my seat, making Tape Boy glance at me curiously from my right. Damn, this girl is really perceptive, ain’t she? And she doesn’t seem to have much of a filter, either. I mean, it’s hella obvious, but that’s beside the point. Shit, what do I do? Should I step in and change the subject? What if I start a fight with Bakugo? That always gets people’s attention. Can this kid handle it himself?

“W-What? Really? You think so, huh? I never really thought about that. I guess it’s kinda -” He started to ramble on as his panic built and I deadpanned. This kid is a fucking disaster.

“Wait, hold on, Tsu. You’re forgetting All Might doesn’t hurt himself, that makes a huge difference.” Red commented, making Izuku let out a sigh of relief. “Still, I bet it’s cool to have a simple augmenting type of quirk. You can do a lot of flashy stuff with it. My hardening is super strong and can destroy bad guys in a fight,” He held out his arm, skin hardening like rock. “But it doesn’t look all that impressive.”

“Ah, no way! I think it’s really awesome looking! You’re definitely pro material with a quirk like that!” Izuku is starting to fanboy again.

I sighed, leaning back in my seat and folding my arms behind my head. I wonder if I can get in a nap before we get there.

“You really think so? Seems like it’d be easier to be a popular hero if I had something flashier!”

Popularity ain’t everything, kid.

“My naval laser has the perfect combination of panache and strength.”

“But it’s way lame if it gives you a stomachache, sweety.”

“Well, if any of our classmates have pro quirks, it’s Todoroki, Bakugo, and Winchester.”

Wait, what? Why me? I barely even used my quirk.

“Sure, but Bakugo is always angry and Winchester is really anti-social so they’ll never be that popular.”

“What did you say?! I’ll kick your ass!”

I leaned forward, eyes narrowed at her. “Don’t fucking lump me in with this dumbass. I don’t want to be popular, people are dickbags.”

“Who the fuck are you calling dumbass, bitch?!”

“Would you prefer dipshit? Donkey? Angry hedgehog? Edgelord? Murder? There’s plenty to choose from for your ass.”

“I’ll kill you!”

“See?” Frog stuck her tongue out, pointing at us.

“You know, we basically just met you two, so it’s kinda telling that we all know your personalities are flaming crap mixed with garbage.”

“Is that the best insult you could come up with, brat?” I glared at Sparky, my eyes flashing as my hands started to burn a bit. “Maybe stop having your kid brother write your lines for you.”

His face flushed.

“You’re gonna regret the day you applied to this damn school, you loser! I’ll kill you!”

“Enough! Classmates are supposed to encourage each other!” Iida intervened.

“I’m going to encourage this dumbass to explode!”

“Wait, what did you just say? Phrasing, dude.”

I scoffed. “It’s easy to talk shit, especially when there’s a teacher around. Try doing it when we’re alone and see what happens.” I stared Sparky down and he swallowed, turning his face away.

“Alright, just apologize, all of you!”

“Sure, if they go first.”

“Like hell I will!”

“Hey, hey, we’re here!” Aizawa rose his voice as the bus pulled up to a stop. “Stop messing around.”

“Yes, sir!”

Everyone filed off the bus. Someone was standing outside waiting for us. Is that… the fucking Michelin man? The fuck, they really let anyone teach at this school, don’t they?

“Hello, everyone! I’ve been waiting for you!”

The group stared in awe and started going wild over this guy. Apparently, his name is Thirteen, the space hero. Honestly, I’m not too interested. I moved closer to Aizawa, putting him between myself and the group, lowering my voice. “Yo, teach. Can I skip this? I didn’t get much sleep last night, see and I -”

“No,”

“At least let me fin -”

“No,”

“Son of a -”

“I can’t wait to show you what’s inside!”

I followed Aizawa as the two teachers led us into the large, dome-shaped building. From the vantage point that the stairs offered, I could see the inside sectioned off into different zones.

“Holy crap. It looks like some kind of amusement park!”

“A shipwreck, a landslide, a fire, a windstorm, etc.” Thirteen began. “I created this training facility to prepare you to deal with different types of disasters. I call it the Unforeseen Simulation Joint, but you can call it the USJ!”

I resisted the urge to facepalm. What is with that shitty ass name? This guy has zero creativity.

“Hey, shouldn’t All Might be here already?” Aizawa moved closer to Thirteen. “Let me guess, he booked an interview instead.”

Thirteen moved closer, lowering his voice. I was close enough to hear them, but I don’t think the others were. “Actually, it’s something else.”

“Hm?”

“Apparently, he did too much hero work on the way to school this morning and used up all of his power.” He held up three fingers. “He’s resting in the teacher’s lounge.”

I scoffed, shoving my hands into my pockets, moving to stand against the pillar nearby. “Dumbass,”

Aizawa sent me a look. “That man is the height of irresponsibility. The clock’s ticking, we should get started.” He moved to lean against the pillar beside me, folding his arms.

“Excellent! Before we begin, let me just say one thing! Well, maybe two things, possibly three, four, or five.”

Oh my tap dancing fucking Satan. I facepalmed, ignoring the weird look from Aizawa.

“Listen carefully! I’m sure you’re aware that I have a powerful quirk.”

Nope, I ain’t.

“It’s called ‘black hole’.”

How edgy.

“I can use it to suck up anything and turn it to dust.”

“Yeah! You’ve used black hole to save people from all kinds of disasters before, haven’t you?” Izuku asked, excitedly, his eyes sparkling.

“That’s true, but my quirk could also very easily be used to kill.”

My body tensed up and I let out a sharp breath. That’s a lesson I had to learn on my own, the hard way. In a way, I’m relieved this guy is laying it all out on the table like that, I just hope these brats take it to heart and actually listen. I glanced at Bakugo.

“Some of you also have powers that can be dangerous.” He tilted his head just a bit in my direction and I could feel his eyes on me through that damn helmet. “In our superhuman society, all quirks are certified and strictly regulated, so we often over-look how unsafe it can actually be. Please don’t forget that if you lose focus or make the wrong move, your powers can be deadly.”

I lowered my head and crossed my arms, nails digging into the fabric of my overshirt. This guilt, this overwhelming remorse that I have to deal with… it will never go away. Never. I… I don’t want these brats to experience this, not even the ones that piss me off. Taking a deep breath, I pushed away from the pillar, moving to stand beside Thirteen, well aware of all the eyes now staring at me, including the two teachers.

I stared at the ground, shoving a hand into my pocket. “You’re probably thinking that it’ll never happen to you, right? That you’re strong enough, that you have enough control, but you’re fucking stupid if you think that. You could have all the fucking control in the world until you meet that one person, that one fight, that one decision that pushes you over the edge. You can feel your control slipping but no matter how fucking hard you try to pull it back, it’s just out of reach. It’s your body, your power and yet… you can only sit back and watch as it destroys shit.”

My hands clenched harder, nails digging into my skin as I looked up, narrowed eyes scanning the shocked expressions of my classmates. Bakugo’s accusing gaze, Peppermint’s guarded gaze, Fumi’s worried gaze.

I took a breath. “But that’ll never happen to me! Your arrogance, over-confidence, ignorance… None of it matters when you’re staring at the face of the life your power just claimed. The eyes that will never shine again. The lips that will never take another breath. What then? It’s far too late, then. Too late for your realizations. Too late for, ‘I should have listened!’. You can never take it back. All you’re left with is this overwhelming feeling of guilt, remorse, and even a little hatred toward yourself. Every human being has this… innocence within their heart. Think of it as a white rose – untainted, pure. When you take a life, whether accidentally or on purpose, that rose becomes tainted by their blood. You can never go back to how it was, you can never reclaim that innocence, you can never…”

I released a shaky breath when Thirteen placed his hand on the small of my back. God, get your shit together, Jen. I shook my head and forced a grin. “Well, that’s what I read in an Agatha Christie novel, anyway. Brilliant writer, that one.” I walked back over to Aizawa, refusing to meet his worried gaze. “Sorry for interrupting, sensei. Just felt like a good time to promote an author I love.”

The tense air dispersed, a couple of students laughing as they believed the act I put on. I’ve always been a damned good liar, maybe I shoulda been an actress. Still, I could feel Bakugo, Izuku, and Peppermint staring at me, but I didn’t let my grin falter.

Thirteen cleared his throat. “Thank you for your insightful… reading, Winchester. Please refrain from interrupting in the future.”

“Sure~”

“She’s absolutely right about everything she said, though. Even if you’re trying to do something virtuous, like rescue someone. Thanks to Aizawa’s fitness tests, you have a solid idea of your quirk’s potential and because of All Might’s combat training, you likely experienced how dangerous your powers can be when used against other people. Carry those lessons over to this class. Today, you’re going to learn how to use your quirks to save people’s lives! You won’t be using your powers to attack enemies or each other, only to help. After all, that’s what being a hero is all about – ensuring the safety of others.” He bowed. “That’s all I have to say, thank you so much for listening!”

The group cheered, hyped up by Thirteen’s speech.

“Right, now that that’s over.” Aizawa pushed away from the wall.

That feeling of crushing dread suddenly fell upon my shoulders, ten times stronger than it had been yesterday. My stomach turned, my legs shaking. What the hell… is this fucking overwhelming feeling? I… I feel like I’m fucking drowning…

The lights started to flicker and my attention snapped to the source of the crushing aura, right at the center of the dome where a fountain sat. A black and purple portal started to open. No… it can’t be him. I swallowed hard as people started to emerge from the shadowy gate.

I instantly recognized that Golem looking mother fucker from Gramp’s study and I started to have flashbacks of that night, of his lifeless body, of the blood, smeared all over that bastard. It’s them… the fuckers that turned my life upside down.

The fuckers that killed my Gramps in cold blood.

⊱ ────── {⋅. 🔥 .⋅} ────── ⊰

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feelingsdusk · 7 years

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Runes and all kinds of things, chapter 16

As much as he can with it still buried in his book to cover the flush he can feel rising in his face and the top of his ears.

(Smooth, Stilinski. Real smooth.)

But he can’t help it, he can’t read Peter at all right now. It’s weird and confusing to some degree after having been so open, so raw, just a moment ago, but at the same time not. It feels as if they took a step forward and then backed that same step again right afterwards. Maybe even two, because Peter has never been this blank-faced in his presence. Or, actually, if Stiles recalls well, in anyone’s presence. Peter is always sassing -provoking, testing, manipulating- people in one way or another. He uses his words, body language and facial expressions as weapons and he does it terrifyingly well. It never fails to get a response from the people around him, Stiles included, and now its absence rattles him.

Stiles stills suddenly. His eyes dart briefly towards Peter again and then go back to the page. He bites his lip and frowns contemplatively.

Maybe this isn’t a step back after all? Peter uses his words, body language and facial expressions as weapons. To defend himself, to get what he wants, to attack. Weapons. He’s used them against Stiles before, so it’s not that he’s an exception. It’s not that he thinks Stiles harmless, useless or inconsequential either. Even back then, in that parking lot, he thought Stiles had the potential to become dangerous, a threat to him. Enough of a threat, in fact, that he wanted to have Stiles on his side and he offeredwhen could have just taken. That not only hasn’t changed but it’s worse.

(Stiles couldn’t trap him and make him choke on mountain ash with a mere thought before.)

But he’s blank-faced now. Or rather… relaxed? Maybe?

Stiles sighs, slouching on his seat, and contains the need to throw a dirty look at Peter for being so damn difficult. He must do a lousy job because the man smirks at him self-satisfied.

“You’re such a dick,” Stiles grouches long-suffering and Peter’s grin widens even more.

Smarmy bastard.

Of course, there’s a chance Stiles is reading him wrong. With Peter it’s hard to tell, because he has more layers than three millefeuille combined and even more masks, but Stiles is pretty sure that it’s not a front he’s putting up this time. The ball is in Peter’s court in any case. Stiles will have to accept whatever he chooses to do and react accordingly.

He reaches for the baking journal again and catches Peter’s eyes again. The man’s eyebrows go high as he eyes the already finished death by chocolate cookies -the normal kind, he knows, because he’s seen Stiles take a bite and then perform an awkward dance because his mouth was burning- cooling on the tray with an skeptical eye.

“Just because I can’t risk Lydia finding a way to murder me remotely,“ and she would, of that he has no doubt, “it doesn’t mean I can’t use this.”

“Hmm,” Peter hums, lips twitching. The way he reclines in his chair makes Stiles want to grumble about the unfairness of it all. Because while Stiles is slouching, you can’t call what Peter is doing that. “What are you planning?”

“Revenge, what else? A petty one but equally effective in this case given whom my target is,” Stiles answers flippantly and Peter snorts. “But no, no more baking for now. It’s for Monday, so I’ll bake on Sunday. I don’t bake any substandard goods even if it’s for revenge, you know,” he sniffs. “Right now, runes. I really need to crack this before the alpha pack makes another move. Like hell I’m getting chased around like a mouse again,” he grumbles. “Pity I can’t just poison them all and be done with it.”

“Pity indeed,” Peter agrees, terribly amused by the pout Stiles is sporting.

An alarm goes off on Stiles’ phone and he startles. Then he remembers what it is for and he shoots from his seat towards the TV, leaving a bewildered Peter behind. The familiar intro to La Dulce Impostora is already running, so he hurries to set the recording so he doesn’t miss anything. There’s a pointed silence at his back and he feels himself starting to blush.

“Shut up,” he grouses.

“I didn’t say a word,” Peter lilts.

“Stop judging me, dude,” Stiles grumbles with cheeks that are starting feel really hot. “La Dulce Impostora is super addictive, ok? There’s a dying abuelita that is the cutest, most charming thing ever… Seriously, that woman is a queen. All hail Queen Isabela, may she reign forever over us lowly mortals,” he preaches with an earnest expression. “But yeah. There’s abuelita Isabela, a fake cancer that turns out to be true and an even faker pregnancy that doesn’t… but kinda does? Depending on how you look at it, I suppose…” he hums thoughtfully, turning to set the recording. “And amnesia, lots of amnesia. It’s so fucking ridiculous. But finally, after everything, they’re about to elope and Camila Valeria is going to ruin it all. Again. And it’s the fifth time. I can’t take it anymore, ok? I just want them on a beach in Bali happily drinking coconuts so I can be free and go back to my life, ok?”

“Well, I didn’t really understand half of what you said. Congratulations, that must be some sort of record.” Damn the man and his sass. Relaxed or not, Stiles served him that one on a silver platter and even Stiles himself wouldn’t have let it pass without answer. “Also, I hate to be the bearer of bad news-”

“Yeah, your face tells me you’re in despair right now,” Stiles quips back drolly.

“-but according to this site, that one still has more than ten episodes left.”

Stiles gapes, a horrified expression rapidly taking over his features. “You’re shitting me.”

“I… shit you not,” Peter answers seriously.

A beat, two beats, and then Stiles is running back to the table to look at the laptop’s screen. He doesn’t slow down as much as he should and he collides against Peter’s back with a soft grunt. He doesn’t pay it any mind and he reaches for the laptop. Sure enough, there’s more than ten episodes left… Thirteen to be exact.

“Oh, god, no” Stiles whispers, the whine escaping him unbidden. For a moment he feels really tempted to just read about how it ends because thirteen one-hour episodes yet to go… and so far the only thing that hasn’t happened on that storyline is a zombie apocalypse. Seriously, there’s even been an attempt to overthrow the current government! Just. No. Ok. No, he will not. He’ll stick right to the end. Like a captain. “I will go down with this ship,” he pronounces darkly, prompting a surprised laugh from Peter.

“Yesss! Danny, my man!” Stiles exclaims happily, throwing his arms up in the air. Peter grabs his elbow before it impacts with his nose and rolls his eyes but doesn’t say anything otherwise. “Awesome! Now we’ll be able to track those fuckers without risking our necks. And who knows, I may still get to poison them.”

Peter laughs again and Stiles smirks in answer.

—

Much later after Danny stopped doing his own kind of magic on Stiles’ laptop, Peter is dividing his attention between something on the screen and a notebook he brought with him. Stiles is kinda itchy to know what’s in there because everything Peter brings has been fantastic so far, but he knows better than to try to take a peek because Peter hasn’t offered. Privacy and all that shit.

Stiles has the strong feeling that Peter is testing him. For what purpose exactly, he doesn’t know, but he’s pretty sure that he is. First with how he provoked him into a fight and now with this. And there have probably been more tests that he hasn’t even noticed. In any case, if Stiles finds that notebook unattended later he won’t be surprised.

(It all comes down to trust, doesn’t it?)

Well, he’ll cross that bridge when he stumbles upon it. For now, he’d better focus on runes or at this rate he’ll be werewolf chow and Peter’s tests won’t matter anymore.

And, god, it’s so frustrating.

Runework sucks. Big. Sweaty. Donkey. Balls.

He knows the actual runes and would be able to draw them with his eyes closed by now. That’s not the problem. That was the easy part, actually. The problem is that the placement in the actual item matters. Placement relative to the other runes matters. Size relative to the item AND relative to the other runes matters. Meaning? One tiny mistake fucks it all.

Meaning that it’s been one hour already and he has done nothing more than waste a lot of paper and bite the cap of his pen so much that it looks like a war casualty.

Because, on top of that, just because a rune has an established translation doesn’t mean that the effect that rune will produce matches it. Because two runes together get a complete different meaning than those two runes separately. And if they’re linked it’s even worse. The meanings don’t add up, they transform each other. Hence, runework sucks. Big. Sweaty. Donkey. Balls.

Stiles reaches for his phone and then takes a selfie, sporting an epic pout. He hits send and then lets his head fall onto the table with a beautifully resounding thud. Peter snorts.

(Also, Peter is a dick that finds too much entertainment in witnessing Stiles’ suffering.)

(Or maybe this is another test.)

Without looking, he makes a ball from the paper with his latest failed experiments and throws it in the man’s direction. With his luck, it probably falls short, but it’s the sentiment that counts, right?

“You’re such a dick,” Stiles grumbles.

“Yes, we’ve already established that,” Peter drawls, the tapping of his fingers against the keyboard never stopping.

And he flashes him the finger for good measure, because he doesn’t need good aim for it to reach the man. Peter snorts again and Stiles pouts sullenly into the table.

Ok, ok. How do you eat a bear? Bite by bite.

He sighs and comes out from hiding reluctantly. He looks at the page where he has noted down the few functioning arrays that can be found in the many books about runes that Stiles has, and decides that trial and error will it have to be. Sorry, Master Yoda, as sacrilegious as it sounds, your teachings hold no place in here. He may get grounded for the rest of his natural life for blowing up the house, but it’s not like he has any other options at this point.

He grabs a clean sheet of paper and looks at it thoughtfully. He may as well start with the simpler ones. According to his first chosen runework’s specific diagram, the array should cover one third of the item he wants to apply it on. But the question is: is that proportion regarding the size or the mass of the item? Does this mean that Stiles will have to become a master at calculating the mass of things on the go? Because that could pose a big problem.

“Excuse me, Mr. or Ms. Enemy-of-the-Week, can you tell me your height and weight? And what did you say was your last meal? And the quantity of said meal? You wouldn’t be constipated per chance, would you? Oh, I’m just curious, you know, ADHD, I get hung up on the strangest things. And since you’re killing me anyways, why not share? Oh, you don’t speak English? Yo hablo español si lo prefieres… Oh, you don’t have vocal cords at all? My apologies. I’ll just make an estimate, thanks for your time anyways and sorry for the inconvenience,” he pipes softly in a falsetto voice. He studiously doesn’t look Peter’s way. “Because that would go well…”

His phone chimes and he can’t help but cackle at Allison’s answering selfie. She looks filthy, sweaty and her face is so red that it gives the impression that she’s completely out of breath. She’s sporting an equally epic pout and it’s hilarious.

Stiles takes a deep breath after he lets go of the phone and shakes himself mentally. Ok, whatever, no big deal. He’ll find a way like he always does. First, he has to make an array work to begin with.

Because nothing ever comes easy -and if runes are such a rare practice as the books say, which suggests a high level of difficulty-, he assumes it’s mass. Ok, awesome (note the sarcasm). So volume and density. The paper is a rectangular form, so the volume would be length x width x height. And as for density… The Internet it is. He stands up and goes to the laptop Peter is using. The man looks at him curiously but turns the screen to face Stiles. A quick search reveals paper’s density, which gives him the last tool he needs to calculate the mass, and in turn the size the array should have.

Experimenting it is.

(Here’s to hoping that all his limbs remain in place by the time he’s done.)

He picks up the pencil and copies the array right on the centercenter of the paper. He concentrates on activating it and gets a cloud of mountain ash to the face for his troubles when Pikachu comes out to play so to speak. He sighs and has to concentrate on getting him back to his skin instead. He tries again and gets the same exact results. After the sneezing attack ends, he pouts but gives it another go. By the tenth time this happens, he’s ready to tear his hair in frustration and the ash is moving around agitatedly from limb to limb and then even to his face, which gives him another uncontrollable attack of sneezes.

“Are you for real?” he grunts frustrated at Pikachu and his ears seem to flop down, just like dogs when they don’t know what they’re doing wrong because they think they’re obeying what you told them to do.

Stiles blinks. Maybe he’s not directing his spark belief whassit (what, he doesn’t have a name for it) at the paper but at the ash instead? He hums thoughtfully and makes a soothing gesture at Pikachu, prompting him to return to his skin again. He closes his eyes and concentrates. His magic works with belief, right? So believe he will. He opens his eyes and looks at the paper again.

“Yes!” he crows happily when he picks up the sheet of paper from a corner and instead of flopping down like it should, it remains rigid. “Look at this, Peter! Hah! I’m a genius! Bow down in my mighty presence!”

“I’ll be right on that, give me a minute,” Peter deadpans drolly. He waves a hand towards the oven trays. “Here, meanwhile have a cookie.”

“I made those,” he grunts at the man, his face falling into an unimpressed expression.

“Are you saying they’re bad and that’s why they don’t qualify as a prize for your success?”

“Don’t you dare!” Stiles gasps scandalized. “Everything I bake is superb!” Peter raises an eyebrow. “Well, there might have been a few FUBAR situati-” Peter raises the other eyebrow. “Damn you,” he grumbles. “Gimme the damn cookie. I deserve it. Because my cookies are totally prize-worthy. You heard that? Totally and without a doubt. Nothing beats them.”

“Maybe add a glass of milk to be sure? And two cookies instead of one? Added value, you know. It was a big success after all,” Peter quips, picking up the ball of paper Stiles threw at him before and throwing it with all the rest pooling at Stiles’ feet without even looking.

Smarmy bastard.

“Stop dissing my wonderful cookies,” Stiles grouches, throwing a narrow-eyed glare at the man.

“Me? You wound me, sweetheart,” Peter replies amusedly, getting up to prepare a couple of cookies and a glass of milk and put them in front of Stiles.

“Smarmy bastard,” Stiles mutters, this time aloud, as he takes a bite. “Just for this, you’re not getting any-” Stiles voice becomes an intelligible grumble when he hears the tattletale crunchy sound to his right, where Peter is leaning to pick up the paper with the functioning array.

Stiles humphs at Peter, whose smirk widens, and he rolls his eyes. Then he covers an amused grin because he knows the man’s impressed because he nearly forgot to leave the paper behind when he went back to his seat… and because he snatched another cookie on his way.

Stiles goes back to the paper and sets off to finding out if the array can be turned off. It takes him a few tries but it’s possible. If he erases the array, it stops working, it seems. Or is it because he stopped believing it would work? He’ll have to ask Peter to participate later. In any case, awesome, success! Now more tests, he thinks rubbing his hands excitedly.

He writes the array, turns it on once again and then he sets it aside. He spreads more sheets around the table as he starts changing the placement of the array on them, activating it as soon as he writes it and noting down the time on a separate notebook. That way he’ll kill two birds with a stone and he’ll be able to check a few things: the time it lasts once activated and how many he’s able to activate at the same time.

(Because he knows that spark works with belief, but is this power of his finite? Druids depend on outside forces to practice runework and rituals but where does a spark’s power come from?)

Once he has twelve variations of the placement, he tests them against each other. Then he makes size variations and, after that, size and placement variations.

Two hours later, he has reached several conclusions: yes, size matters; yes, placement matters; yes, his spark is finite to a point.

The size sets the range of effect of the magic and the placement sets the point of impact. So, with the hardening array he’s testing right now, if Stiles sets right in the center a smaller array than the one-third ratio the book said to use, the edges of the paper don’t harden and flop down like they should. Stiles feels giddy with the possibilities this brings to the table. Of course, this experiment was done on a pretty simple form, it will obviously be more complicated with other more irregular ones. But it’s a start, right? Stiles has a feeling that he won’t be needing to calculate everything’s mass exactly, just have a general idea to work with, unless he’s doing a very precise work. Of course, to get to the point of not needing to calculate it every time, he’ll have do at lot of testing and practicing.

And as for his spark being finite… Even with the snack he had before (which he suspects Peter gave him on purpose because he somehow knew he’d need the extra energy and it kind of makes Stiles want to grin), he’s ravenous right now and it has nothing to do with the hour it is. It feels like when he comes back after one of those gruelling lacrosse practices and he’d eat the fridge’s contents… and then the actual fridge itself. So this means that using it tires him as exercising would. It remains to be seen if working out (so to speak) will raise his stamina or if his power is a set value that he’ll have to work around.

All in all, not bad for two hours of work. Now that he knows some of the rules (because he’s sure he’ll find more as he goes) he can start experimenting. But first.

“Dinner?” he pipes looking at the lasagne like a man would at water in a scorching hot desert.

As if on cue, his stomach emits an epic growl that lasts way longer than it should and he feels himself start blushing. Peter smirks at him.

Stiles flips him the finger again.

(Peter is way too smug about that, the smarmy bastard.)

—

“Mmm,” Peter hums contemplatively as he takes the first bite.

“Mmm?” Stiles replies, already on his third bite. So sue him, he’s starving, ok?

“Mmm,” Peter continues humming, almost reluctantly.

“Mmm, huh?” Stiles replies again, smirking.

“Mmhm,” Peter says as if unimpressed.

Stiles grins and Peter rolls his eyes.

—

Just like with the hardening one, this array consists of four runes. Stiles’ guess is that that’s the simplest it can get. Because probably just putting one rune would be too open and thus, the effect would be unpredictable and uncontrollable. So basically there’s a primary rune and then at least three secondary ones that delimit the first one. The placing and the size respecting the primary rune define the extent of the effect they have on it. That’s probably why there are some subtle differences between both of the arrays that he has, even if they have the same diamond structure.

Ok, good, he can work with that. And since he now knows what effect the placing has, he writes the array exactly on the center of the paper and activates it. He picks it up and looks at it thoughtfully. At first glance there’s no apparent change on it. Then he pulls from both ends.

“Whoa!” he exclaims surprised when it stretches out like gum.

Well, it’s a little harder than gum and unlike it, when he stops pulling it immediately goes back to its original form with no evidence of what happened left behind. It has a limit of how much it can extend though, so Stiles guesses that the runes alter the original characteristics of the item they were placed on, as opposed to giving it a new set value. So if the original item had been stretchy to begin with, it would have extended even more than the paper. Conclusion: arrays alter the items exponentially.

(Oh, god, the possibilities.)

—

Stiles startles a little when the lights of the kitchen are suddenly on. He turns to look at Peter perplexed, but the man isn’t paying him any attention at all. He squints around and takes in the sun’s position in the sky. He hadn’t even noticed he was starting to struggle to see.

He lets the pen he was keeping in his mouth fall into his hand and looks at the mess he’s made. Maybe it’s time to tidy up a bit, he thinks grimacing.

Well, it was worth it, he supposes… or at least a necessary evil.

Some of his tests were a complete bust and some weren’t. He now knows what each of the runes in this particular array is for and how their size relative to the primary affects it. He also knows that, at least in this kind of structure, all the runes need to have the same orientation or it won’t work. Also, this kind of structure is to alter the physical characteristics of the item it’s placed on. -And it has to be an object. All the books were adamant about that, about runes not being used on living beings.- The secondary runes are set ones that can’t be changed and the primary is the one that sets the characteristic the array will alter. Moreover, two runes can be linked as the primary rune, but anymore than that and it fails, which he supposes is where the more complicated arrays come in. Also, just because those particular runes are set ones for this kind of array, it doesn’t mean that they can’t act as primaries too.

(This is not a bear, it’s a damn whale.)

He kind of wants to scream but, hey, he still has all his fingers and the house is not only standing but hasn’t been damaged at all. Only a full stack of papers has been sacrificed to the cause. Yay for him.

“Ah, father, you man of little faith,” he mutters, slouching on his seat and closing his eyes tiredly.

There’s no way he can-

Really loud rock music blares suddenly from the laptop’s speakers, startling Stiles into almost falling from his chair. He looks at Peter, who looks as surprised as Stiles and is also trying to lower down the volume as fast as he can.

“What the hell, Peter,” Stiles gasps, one hand still over his thundering heart and the other grasping at the chair in a trembling iron fist.

“I was trying to put the soundtrack to your little moment there, but this is not what I expected,” the man explains perplexed. “I mean, the song is called Crushing Defeat, but I wouldn’t say a crushing defeat sounds like that. Not that I would know, but.” And then the man has the gall to shrug nonchalantly before continuing speaking. “I should have definitely gone for my first option.”

And he hits play.

Maybe I’m foolish

Maybe I’m blind

Thinking I can see through this

And see what’s behind

Got no way to prove it

So maybe I’m blind

But I’m only human after all

I’m only human after all

And he stops the music right there.

Stiles, whose face had gone from startled to unimpressed in the blink of an eye, goes right into the evil eye territory equally fast.

“Remind me again who’s been dead before?” Stiles says, his voice saccharine sweet.

“Sure! Anything for you, sweetheart,” Peter answers, equally sweet. “I’ll remind you anytime you want that not even Death could win against me. Anything to inspire you when you’re feeling low.”

And he turns back with a self-satisfied smirk to continue whatever he was doing before.

That.

Smarmy.

Bastard.

Stiles will show him a crushing defeat.

(Also, just for that, he’s hoarding all the cookies, dammit.)

—

It has somehow turned into a contest.

It’s way past 4 a.m. and neither of them is bowing out. Stiles has gone through three more structures, gained more knowledge and even more rules. Peter has at least filled ten pages of that journal of his and Stiles has caught him covertly eyeing the coffee cupboard more than once. At this rate, John Stilinski will arrive to see them either conked out over their respective works or stubbornly resisting but about to pass out.

At this point Stiles wishes his dad would appear so he could order him to bed and he’d have the excuse to bow out, but he’d rather face another run around the pool with all the alphas chasing after him than admit to that.

He eyes the cookie plate and mourns its empty state. Then, with a sigh, he turns his attention back the last structure that he has. So far he has confirmed a lot of the things that he already suspected. The more complicated an array gets, the more things you’re trying to change on an object… or the more complicated the object’s composition or the being you’re placing it on is. But so far Stiles has gathered that if you place an array on a living being, you better brace yourself because it’s so complicated that it has disastrous effects more often than not. Which is no good… unless you’re banking on it going wrong to get out of a pinch. Stiles certainly wouldn’t mind making an alpha go boom with failed runework, that’s for sure.

Well, in any case he now has an idea of how the arrays are expanded and of how to link different arrays to cover the more irregular objects or to make domino effects. Of course, he just has the theory and he’ll have to experiment a lot but it’s something that’s not a “crushing defeat”.

He just wants to die.

Stiles barely refrains from hitting his head repeatedly against the table to wake himself up forcefully but only because he still has some dignity left. He looks at the stress ball that he got out to fidget with by hour… whichever it was, he’s lost count. It used to belong to Scott, from when he hurt his hand and he needed to strengthen his muscles. It’s fuchsia with green polka dots all over it and it couldn’t be uglier even if it tried, so it wouldn’t be a big loss if Stiles accidentally murders it.

The material is polyurethane, if he’s not wrong. The thought of getting up to check its mass on the laptop is too much to bear, so Stiles uses his phone to search for it. When he finally has it, he muses over what he needs to change on it to make it bounce. Elasticity, for one, of course. Resistance maybe? And what else to generate the kinetic energy he needs? How much does he need to add or subtract to its original characteristics to get what he wants?

It takes a while, but he decides what structure to use and the runes that form part of it in the end. Then he calculates the size it should have and, after fretting over it for a bit, he decides that you only live once is the attitude to have and starts writing it directly on the ball. After a moment he realizes that pencil is not the way to go and changes to a sharpie. Either the ball is really old or the sharpie is too pointed, but instead of just writing on its surface, he’s partially etching the array. He bites his lip but decides to go on. Then he activates it.

Something catches his attention at the edge of his vision and he turns to find Peter about to fall asleep. Stiles grins triumphantly and picks up his phone to get the visual evidence to lord his victory over the man when he wakes up later. Because he’s going to sleep once he has the picture, dammit, he’s dying.

Right as he’s snapping the picture, the stress ball rolls over the edge and falls to the tiled floor before he can catch it…

… then it ricochets silently but with deadly speed towards the ceiling, where it rebounds again, gaining even more speed than it already had.

“Oh, fuck,” Stiles whispers wide-eyed. “Peter!” he screams right before it hits the man’s head, sending him sprawling to the floor. “Oh, fuck!”

“What the-!” Peter groans, somehow managing to look both like a spooked kitten and as if a train has just rolled over him at the same time.

“Down!” Stiles warns him again as it comes back like a tiny missile. Peter, the idiot, tries to grab it as it passes by. “NO!” he shouts but to no avail.

Peter gets thrown forward and out of the kitchen, where he proceeds to crash onto the living room’s lamp before he can finally stop the momentum, successfully managing to not make another victim out of the TV. The ball continues bouncing and gaining even more speed.

“Oh, fuck,” Stiles whines.

—

When the sheriff comes back home, he’s greeted by a very odd sight. There’s a trash bag full of things in a corner and several items, which includes two lamps, several pictures and a small side table, are missing. There are a lot of round marks over several pieces of furniture, the walls and the ceiling, and quite a few of those round marks look carved in and scorched. From where he is, he can see that the glass from two of the kitchen cupboards is gone and that there are two perfect holes on the dishwasher’s door. There’s a plant without its pot just sitting there on the living room’s table and the missing pot is right at the center of the same table, downturned. Last but not least, Peter Hale and Stiles are completely out, one over the other, on the couch, dark bags scarily prominent under their eyes.

John blinks. And then he blinks even more.

“Well, the house is still standing,” he mutters as he reaches for the pot to take the plant off of the table, because he has to start somewhere to fix the mess, after all, and this is really the only thing he can do right now. The rest he’ll take care of after he wakes up.

“NO!!!!” both Stiles and Peter shout, snapping awake and bolting, just as he lifts the pot from the table.

—

The plant is still on the living room table but the pot holding the ewok -what, it’s a small and harmless looking (fur)ball that’s really dangerous when provoked, dad, where’s the lie?- is in the toilet, with the door closed for good measure.

(There’s another hole in the dishwasher’s door and they’ve lost the two vases that had survived the first assault. Only Peter’s speed saved the laptop and it was only by a hair’s breadth.)

(Stiles is secretly happy that the TV and the recorder haven’t been casualties. He had to pull a The Bodyguard™ move and there’s a round shaped bruise already showing on his stomach, but it was well worth it. He’d die if he missed yesterday’s episode of La Dulce Impostora.)

(Not that he’ll say that aloud, of course.)

It’s mid-afternoon and they’re having breakfast and not feeling any shame about it. Stiles feels like a limp noodle and is ravenous. He has probably already eaten his weight in pancakes with an obscene amount of syrup, but he has no intention of stopping any time soon.

He looks at Peter’s plate covetuously and the man’s lips twitch, but he makes an offering gesture (sassy and a little mocking, but still offering) instead of lording his remaining pancake over Stiles. It takes a lot to not descend over it like a rabid beast, and even more to rise from his seat and make more instead. He even shares them with his dad and Peter, someone should give him medal for the feat.

Just as he’s taking the first bite, the cupboard’s door, which was barely hanging from its hinges, makes a piteous sound and falls first to the counter and then to the ground, dragging a plate to it’s ultimate demise with it. The lack of door reveals that almost all the mugs inside said cupboard have been smashed to smithereens at some point.

“So,” his dad says, looking caught between horrified amusement and resignation.

“You said I’d be grounded if the house wasn’t standing,” Stiles points out, mouth full and all.

Peter snorts and takes a sip of his coffee. Unlike Stiles and John, the bastard doesn’t look tired at all. He’s sitting on the chair as if it’s his throne. Stiles is a petty creature and he really wants to call bullshit because he knows that’s the man’s third cup of coffee, so he can’t be feeling as good as he’s making it look. The need to shoot a dirty look at him for the unfairness of it is almost overwhelming.

“I said I’d definitely ground you if it wasn’t standing, not that I wouldn’t ground you for any other damaged property.”

“What- You- I claim false advertising!” Stiles gasps with a hand over his heart.

“Terribly sorry about that,” John deadpans. “I’m sure I have some complaint forms somewhere. I’ll make sure your reclamation reaches the proper authorities.” He takes a long swallow of coffee and sighs contentedly. “Which would be me, so reclamation dismissed.”

“Abuse! I claim abuse! No, don’t hand me another imaginary reclamation form!”

Welp, this took more than a year. I’ve lost count of how many versions of this chapter I’ve written… and how many times I rewrote each one of those. Sigh.

Thanks @ssree and @nineorfour for proofing this.

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#phonefic #teen wolf #steter #my fanfiction #runes and all kinds of things

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supernatural-firstwatch · 6 years

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Season 8 Episode 21: The Great Escapist

- KEVIN!!! Where did he end up?? Oh, he’s still in his boat? WOAH! They got the other half of the tablet and we don’t even get to see it?? Lame!

- WHAT THE FUCK??? AWH SHIT! Does that mean Crowley’s got Kevin and he’s using some sort of illusion thingamagig to get him to translate his half of the tablet? And now Kevin might tell him what the third trial is? CROWLEY YOU ASS!!!! (i love you never change)

- How are the boys ever going to figure out the last trial if Kevin is being held by Crowley and he doesn’t even know it??

- SHEESH!!! Sam hasn’t eaten in THREE DAYS?? Dean got a thermometer!! “When did you get that?” “When you started throwing out heat waves.” Awh, Sam!! All Dean wants to do is take care of you because you look like shit. SAAAAAM!!!! JUST LET DEAN TAKE CARE OF YOU!!! Even if the Trials are changing you, that doesn’t mean you can’t get your strength back.

- AWH, KEVIN! You’re not dead. Crowley has you. And is brainwashing you.

- Oh, Cass! HAHAHAHAH!!!! Cass is using the Biggersons to throw the angels off!!! LOL!!!! Guess those pesky Leviathans were good for one thing: expanding the Biggerson empire!!!

- HAHAHAHAHA!!!!! Sam thinks that Metatron (played by the late Alan Rickman) is with the Native Americans in Colorado. And he’s schooling Dean on the racist use of the word “Indians.” OMG, Sam. I love you and your nerdy self so much. You need a haircut so bad. “We should go.” “You are delirious.”

- FUCK ANGELS ARE DICKS!!! They killed an entire Biggerson’s just to get Cass to stop! And the angels caught Cass.

- Sam’s... What’s going on with Sam? Is it just him worsening from the trials or is he sensing something because of the trials? The Native American dude knows something is up with Sam.

- OMG! THESE ANGELS ARE ASSHOLES! LOL!!! “Where is the Angel tablet, Castiel.” “In the words of... a good friend. Bite me.”

- Does Kevin think Sam looks too good? Also, I think Kevin suspects. He’s making these faces. Also, he eats fucking hot dogs.

- OMG SAM! HOW HIGH IS YOUR FEVER??? “Hey, you remember when, uh... Dad took us to the bottom of the Grand Canyon on that pack-mule ride?” “The what?” “And your uh-- your mule kept farting, just letting go, like gale force.” “Dude, you were like four years old. I barely remember that.” *Sam laughs hysterically and sighs* “You rode a farty donkey.” “Ok, I’m going to check out the Two Rivers Travel Museum and Trading Post.” “Yeah, yeah! I’m gonna-- I’m gonna um-- I’m gonna follow the hotel manager, Dr. Scowley-Scowl. He’s like a villain from “Scooby-Doo.” “No, Hey, uh, little big man, you should get some rest.” “Yeah, I can do that, too.” *promptly collapses back into the bed and passes out*

- HAHAHAHAHA!!!! SAM WAS RIGHT TO WANT TO FOLLOW THE HOTEL MANAGER!!! I knew that the hotel manager pegged Sam. Man, Sam looks awful. What’s with the chiming? And what’s with the room with all the package? AWH SHIT! He found out something and tried to call Dean just totally passed out!!!! NO BUENO!!!

- Back to the asshole angels. CROWLEY!!!! And he has an Angel killing gun?

- Awh man. Did Dean have to submerge Sam in ice cold water?? Was his fever THAT high?? DAMN!!! 107!!!! HAH! Sam can sense Metatron!! OH! THE BOOKS!!! STORIES!!!

- Oooo, smart Crowley. Melting down an angel blade and making bullets out of it. I’m surprised no one else had thought to do that before. “I’m the daringest devil you’ve ever met, love.” Oh noes!!!! Crowley has Cass now!! And Kevin!!! SHEESH!!! Meanwhile Sam and Dean found Metatron.

- OMG!!! CROWLEY YOU SICK FUCK!!! DID CASS SERIOUSLY SOMEHOW PUT THE TABLET INSIDE HIMSELF??? SHIT!! HE HAS!!! FUCKING HELL!!!! THAT WAS GROSS!!! And reminded me of the Fifth Element. When the Opera singer tells Bruce Willis’s character that the pillars are inside her and he has to root around her abdomen to get them.

- So, Kevin sent the demons into a demon trap. Does that mean that he’s realized something’s up?

- AAAAAWWWWW!!! SAAAAAAAAAAAAAM!!!!! YOU JUST BREAK MY HEART!!!!!! “’Knights of the Round Table.’ Had all of King Arthur’s Knights, and they were all on the quest for the holy grail. And I remember looking at this picture of Sir Galahad, And-- and-- and he was kneeling, and-- and light streaming over his face. And I remember... thinking, um, I could never go on a quest like that... Because I’m not clean. I mean, I-I was just a little kid. You think maybe I knew? I mean, deep down, that... I had... Demon blood in me and about the evil of it and that I... wasn’t pure.” “Sam, it’s not your fault.” “It doesn’t matter anymore, because these trials... They’re purifying me.” YOU HEAR THAT??? THAT IS THE SOUND OF MY HEART SHATTERING INTO A MILLION PIECES!!! Dean doesn’t even know what to say to that. The look on his face after Sam’s confession. He just looks so heartbroken.

- Well then. Someone really like to read. Hoarder much, Metatron?

- Awh, Sam can’t hear himself talk over the sound of Metatron’s chiming. Also, LOL! “What, you really haven’t heard of us? What kind of angel are you? W-We’re the freaking Winchesters.” HAHA!!! I mean, Sam’s right. All the Angels have heard of them considering they were the vessels for Michael and Lucifer and basically gave all the angels two giant middle fingers. You’d think if Metatron liked books and stories so much, he’d have read Chuck’s books. :D

- HAHAHAHAHA!!!! I love how Crowley breaks down the door to the fake boat and Kevin’s just sitting there, chilling, eating his hot dog. HAHAHA!!! “How did you figure it out?” “It started when they forgot the secret knock. *Crowley rolls his eyes* But really, it-- It was the way they acted. I don’t think on their best day Sam and Dean would go into town and get me a barbecue dinner, n-not when there are left over burritos in the fridge.” “So... My demons were too polite?” *Kevin thinks about it and nods* “Yeah.” “Well, I’ll be a son of a whore.” HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!! LOVE IT!!!!! SAM AND DEAN ARE GIANT ASSHOLES WHO WOULDN’T GET KEVIN FOOD AND THE DEMONS WERE TOO NICE!!!! Man, Sam is pissed at Metatron!! And so is Dean. For good reason, considering he’s been imitating an ostrich. But that’s nothing new with angels. Alan Rickman made a better Metaron.

- WHAT JUST HAPPENED WITH CROWLEY??? WHO JUST SAVED KEVIN AND BURNT CROWLEY?? WAS IT CASS?? WOAH! NO! IT WAS METATRON!!! HAHAHAHA!!! He erased Crowley’s angel warding!! Cause he’s the scribe of God. LOVE IT!

- To... Cure a demon? How do you even... What? I mean, the closest they ever got to that was Meg? Man, I don’t know that Sam will get better from these trials. I only see him getting worse and dying from them. And then somehow coming back to life because that’s just how these brothers roll.

- CASS!! IN THE MIDDLE OF THE ROAD!!! Poor Cass. Angel bullets and having Crowley rooting around in your gut are no fun.

#supernatural #sam winchester #dean winchester #season 8 #first time watching #sam looks like crap #poor sam and his coughing up blood and fever and not eating #dean is a motherhen #but we already knew this #metatron just wants to chill and read #kevin is a little smartass #castiel has clearly watched the fifth element

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