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hailxhydra · 3 years

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the more you say (the less I know)

By @hailxhydra for @iwritedumbshit

via @friendly-neighborhood-exchange

Rating: Gen

Relationships: Tony Stark & Peter Parker, Steve Rogers & Peter Parker

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Steve Rogers

Summary: TONY STARK IS DEAD. The words were plastered on the front page of every newspaper across the world. Tony Stark, the resident genius, billionaire, playboy, and philanthropist, was dead. Completely, irrevocably, unchangeably, dead.

Or was he?

After the events of Endgame, Peter Parker decides he has to go back in time to save his mentor’s life, finds out that Tony wasn’t everything Peter thought he was, and chaos ensues.

“You sure about this, kid?” Steve asked Peter, coming up from behind him to clasp his hand on his shoulder. Looking out into the crystal clear lake and the surrounding forest, Peter gulped, trying to get rid of that unsettling feeling at the bottom of his stomach bubbling up until it overflowed, and he broke down right in front of everyone.

“What?” he said, swallowing the lump at the back of his mouth. Turning to face Steve, he shook off the hand on his shoulder, which immediately went straight into the pockets of his black pants. He glared at Steve, though obviously not in a malicious way. He was met back with a blank stare. The impassiveness of it was relieving; Peter didn’t need any more emotion from anyone, let alone the person who had abandoned his mentor for years, without a goodbye, nor some contact information. The bleak, vacant gaze held a sort of comfort for him, being something steady, something that he could hold on to while all around him, there was chaos. It was a lifeboat.

“Look, we’ve all been there. Believe me, I know what it feels like. I was in ice for seventy years. I lost everyone. But I had people to help me through it. You do, too. You don’t have to do this.”

“What’re you trying to get at?” he blatantly asked, rolling his eyes and turning back to the lake, the calm lake, the lake that had absolutely no problems, the lake that was steadfast and balanced, the lake that was everything that Peter wanted to be. “Are you implying that I might do something? I can’t change what happened either way, what with the implications, plus, the Grandfather Paradox is a bunch of bullshit, it just creates an alternate timeline, like with blue robot lady one and two, and anyway, how would that work without any local quantum interference? It’s crazy, I mean like-”

“I’m not talking about the science behind it. I can’t know what you think, but, looking from the outside, it is pretty clear what you want to do. Now, I don’t know if anyone else realizes it, and maybe it’s just because we’re so similar that I would have taken the same line of action, but you have family here. People who care about you. Just, spend a few minutes mulling over your decision. You have to be completely sure before you do anything drastic,” Steve said, starting to walk away after he was done.

“You’re really big on monologues, aren’t you? It’s a very 40s vibe you give off!” Peter called after him, a smile gracing his face in this tough moment. Steve just made a peace sign in return, his back still facing him, and continued his conversation with Sam. He looked around, taking in the serenity of the lake house. Tony had bought it during the Blip, so Peter had never gotten around to seeing it with him. He quietly stepped inside, making sure not to make any noise as to give away his position. He wanted solitude, without anyone barging in every few minutes to check in on him, or to offer him some juice, or to whack his head with a newspaper (although that last one was mainly Sam and Bucky, and he didn’t know from where they even got the endless supply of newspapers).

The inside was nice. A change of scenery from the dark outfits everyone wore outside. Built almost entirely of walnut wood, the lake house served as a reminder that he would never get those five years back. The five years, in which everything had changed. He wondered if May had gotten dusted, too. If she had gotten married again, or had a kid. They didn’t have much time before the funeral to catch up, always being whisked away to talk to one person or another. He led his fingers across the panels of wood, taking in the peacefulness inside. Feeling a presence creeping up behind him, he swiveled around to punch the person in the gut. He widened his eyes when he realized who it was.

Bucky Barnes, aka the Winter Soldier, aka the White Wolf, aka the most dangerous man on Earth, was keeling over, hands on his midsection, looking like he was about to puke.

“OhmygoshI’msosorry,” Peter rushed, hands outstretched, but stopping in mid-air, as if he was rethinking his decision to help him up.

“Come on, kid. Why do you have to do that to a hundred-year-old man? Ever heard of ‘respect your elders’?” he groaned, stabilizing himself by putting his hands on Peter’s shoulders and lifting himself up.

Peter felt his cheeks heat up and turn scarlet before muttering a small, “I said I’m sorry.”

“What I came here to say was before you so rudely knocked me over, was that I think Bruce is firing up the machine. He wants you to suit up and get ready. It’ll be ready any time now,” Bucky said, giving a Chesire cat-like grin before turning away to talk to someone Peter didn’t know.

Peter laughed and shouted, “That wasn’t a good pun at all!”

Bucky looked back at him, gave him the middle finger, and yelled back, “I’m a hundred-year-old assassin, give me a break!”

Peter shook his head and turned to look at the suit in his hands. The suit itself was grey, with streaks of red running down it (the Avengers were very fashionable, to say the least). It had a leathery texture, but not quite leather; it was comfortable, yet effective at the same time. Most importantly, it would protect him from the quantum energy and radiation that came with time travel.

Looking at it, Peter felt unworthy, but, wearing it, he felt like he could do anything that he ever wanted. He felt like he was an Avenger. It wasn’t like anything else in the world. It was special. It was distinctly his, not anyone else’s; his.

“My wittle spidey is all gwown up now!” May exclaimed, smiling at Peter in his new time-traveling suit.

“May, I’m not a baby!” he pouted, stomping his feet on the ground, purposely acting immaturely. “I’m not your ‘wittle spidey’! I’m a grown-up kid!”

“Whatever, it’s fine. Just come with me. They’re all ready for your big superhero entrance.”

Getting there was a long hike. For some absurd reason, Bruce had decided to put the time travel machine smack in the middle of a dense forest, and it took quite a while, even in his super suit, to reach the destination.

“Peter? You ready?” Bruce (Professor Hulk) asked. He put his big green hand on his shoulder, and Peter felt something break there.

He suppressed a cry and said weakly, “Yeah.”

“You sure about that? One of us could do it.”

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

Bruce gave a soft smile and led Peter over to the launching pad.

“So what do I have to do again?” he asked.

“Just stand there. Make sure you’re holding the stones and the hammer. You need to return those things at the exact time they were taken. If you don’t, it’ll-”

“Create another timeline, I know. That’s all I have to do. Just return the stones. To the right time. Okay, let’s do this.”

He stretched out his hands and legs and went to go and stand at the pad. Surveying the crowd, he caught a certain someone’s eye. Steve took off his hat, bowed down, and smiled at him. He gave a small thumbs up to Peter, reassuring him that this was the right decision. Peter cleared his throat, nodded a few times, and gave Bruce the signal.

“Five… four… three… two… one.”

“How long will it take?” Sam asked. “I need a break.”

Bruce looked at his monitor in confusion. Typing something into it, he showed Sam the calculations. Sam just raised his eyebrows.

“I’m not some science genius. You’re going to have to explain it to me.”

“He was supposed to come back in two seconds. He should’ve been back by now.”

“What?” he asked, although there wasn’t anything he could do, and he knew that. Steve smiled a bit and turned around to face the wilderness. Unfortunately, this action did not go unnoticed by Bucky. He lunged towards him and pulled him up by the collar. He raised his eyebrows to his hairline and gave Bucky a bewildered look.

“What did you do?” he threatened. Steve gave a smirk and raised his hands, surrendering. He shrugged (which was really hard, given Bucky was still holding onto his collar), and slowly took Bucky’s hands off of him. Once they were completely off (and into his jacket’s pockets), Steve huffed.

“I did nothing, Buck. It was his decision, not mine.”

“Will you tell us where he is?” Sam asked, coming up from behind them. Steve simpered, looking Sam straight in the eye.

“No, I’d rather not.”

“I know you did something you little piece of-”

December 16, 1990 || New York City

The streets of New York City were bustling with people trying to do last-minute Christmas shopping, the shops illuminated with strings of Christmas lights. Although the rain dampened the mood (in more ways than one), the crowd hurried from store to store, trying to acquire the perfect gift for their friends and family, brightening the otherwise bleak scene.

The women, clad in their voguish outfits of pantsuits and tinted oval sunglasses, directed their tired husbands to different toy stores, presumably to buy a set of some knick knacks and trinkets for their children. The little boys and girls dragged their mothers and fathers to various windows, pointing at the numerous playthings propped up in the front.

The teenagers, dressed in baggy sweatpants and flannel jackets and too many chains to look good, looked bored as hell, and were smoking in some neglected corner in the adjacent alleyway. They laughed, sending puffs of smoke billowing into the atmosphere, seeming so carefree in that small moment.

Muffled conversations could be heard throughout the streets, though no one was paying much attention to the stifled voices, choosing to focus on the more fortunate aspects of life. A man, speaking into his phone in hushed whispers, hugged his briefcase tight to his chest and sent out panicked glances if anyone came in close proximity to him. A woman, an unlit cigar hanging from her mouth, clutched her handbag, a small purse dog whining in it, and grinned at any unsuspecting young man that came near her. A young couple, looking like they were physically connected to each other, walked along the jam-packed street, sneaking in kisses as if they weren’t allowed to be seen in public with one another. There were, in total, at least a few hundred people in that small street, all trying to get away from the stress of day-to-day life.

Although it was a lighthearted scene down on the streets below the towering skyscrapers, the rain poured down onto the throng of people, the immense clouds covering the full moon, giving the place an eerie aura.

In an alleyway off to the side of the square, Peter dazedly woke up, scratching his eyes, just recovering from the gripping experience of time traveling. He had returned the infinity stones to their particular places and time periods. The soul stone to Vormir in 2014, the Tesseract to that old SHIELD laboratory in 1970, the time stone to the Sanctum and the Ancient One in 2012, the power stone to Morag, the Aether to Asgard in 2013, and the mind stone to the oblivious Hydra agents at the Avengers Tower in 2012. So, as you can see, it had been a really long day for Peter.

He groaned and raised his hands, only to find them covered in dirt and some wet, slimy substance he couldn’t remember the name of. It wasn’t just his hands; the whole alleyway was covered in this substance.

“Ew,” he groaned, making sure not to be loud, so that the horde of people wouldn’t see him. That would cause multiple complications in Peter’s plan, probably resulting in him being sent to an orphanage because they couldn’t find his parents. It could also be more drastic and he could end up in some government facility because his name wasn’t on any of their rosters. He might also have been classified as an alien, and that would definitely thwart his mission.

The pitter patter of the rain woke Peter up from his delusional fantasy, and, putting his palms on the damp, muddy ground, he stood up. Tip toeing out of the alley, he surveyed his surroundings in order to make sure no one was watching him, and wandered out onto the street. People shouldered their way through the crowd, always looking behind their back to see if someone was following them. Peter did the same, though for different reasons than them.

He walked along the street for a while, getting whisked away by the crowd. There wasn't really a place to go for him right now, so he just wandered around, window shopping (though he had absolutely no money), trying not to think about the past Christmas he spent with Tony, eating food until they threw up, and opening the presents they gifted each other, Rhodey, Pepper, and Aunt May.

There were a lot of… characters on the road. Some of them smiled at him very creepily, staring at him as though he were something enjoyable to eat for supper, and others were confused as to why a child, dressed up in a weird suit without his parents, was solemnly walking along the boulevard - Halloween had passed two months ago, and it was now Christmastime. One couple was kind enough (or evil enough) to hand him a Hershey’s chocolate bar. Not those bite-sized little ones that Peter used to get from Delmar’s or that one grocery shop in Queens. This one was king-sized. It could’ve lasted Peter at least a month if he were back in Queens in his apartment.

A sense of dread overtook him. The mission. He couldn’t fail it. No, he had to prove to himself that he was ready.

But what if he wasn’t?

He pushed his way through the mob of people. They stared back at him, eyes wide in shock. He didn’t care. He sprinted all the way across the road to the other side of it, shoving away the people who got in the way. He reached the empty wall, feeling the bile rise in his throat.

He puked onto the wall. The people moved away from him. His heart pounded in his chest. Blood throbbed in his ear. Holding onto the wall, he sobbed. The world seemed to turn fuzzy, and everything he saw was distorted, as if he were in a VR game that was malfunctioning. The wall in front of him turned wobbly. Instead of a straight wall, it was now a curved structure. The ground underneath him seemed to give out. He was falling. He was falling to his death. He couldn’t speak. He couldn’t call for help. No one wanted to help him. Another round of bile seemed to erupt from him, and he puked even more of his lunch onto the wall. The world was ending. The world was ending, and he couldn’t do anything about it.

He couldn’t save people from dusting. It was his responsibility to save them. People were counting on him, and he let them all down. He let Mary and Richard down. He let Ben down. He let Aunt May down. He let Mr. Stark down.

He could hear people in the distance, calling for help. He also heard an indistinct sound of laughter. A familiar sound. This sound, unlike the multiple other people screaming, he knew. He knew this sound.

“Mr Stark?” he mumbled from force of habit, pausing to throw up for the third time. All the sound ceased. The tears didn’t, though. They continued flowing in wet, fiery streaks down his cheeks. He could see the crowd make a partition, though his vision was seriously warped. A teenager, probably around his age, walked through the space. He could hear the crowd whispering and pointing at him, although the other man paid no attention. He had to squint his eyes to see him, choking back a sob. He couldn't embarrass himself more than he already did. He cried violently, and the man crouched down and cocked his head to the side. Almost, but not quite, as if he was observing him. As if he was some experiment in a glass cage.

He sobbed harder, and he retched, wishing something would come out so the man would move away from him. The man just tilted his head to the other side and squinted his eyes. He looked at all the other people and shooed them away, and they obliged. Peter and the man were left in solitude, a small sort of bubble forming around them, giving them some peace and quiet.

“How do you know me?” he asked in a low, menacing voice that made Peter cry even more.

“I don’t know!” he bawled. “I’m sorry!”

The man picked Peter up by the arm and looked him straight in the eye. He couldn’t see well through the tears in his eyes, but the man looked truly scary. He heard some shouts in the background, cheering the man on. He grunted and threw Peter onto the ground, walking away to his group of friends.

Peter tried to pull himself up, but, through his severe panting and sobbing, he could not sit upright. He then resorted to lying on the murky ground (on which there were some questionable substances). Gasping for air, Peter tried to calm down.

Key word: tried.

The tears never stopped flowing. The memories didn’t, either.

Memories of Mary and Richard. Of how his last words to them were, “I hate you!”’ before they boarded that damn plane.

Memories of Ben. Of how he died in his arms, bleeding out from the gunshot wound, while he couldn’t do anything to save him.

Memories of how he left Mr. Stark for five years. Five freaking years. And, just as he came back from the dead, Mr. Stark had to go and sacrifice himself for the universe.

Lying there, on the ground, the crowd walking around him to avoid stepping on the child, he fell into a deep sleep, unbothered by the disgusted looks thrown at him by the supposedly “posh” people of New York City.

#this is just chapter one #i'm going to add more at some point #i hope this is what you wanted!#ahhh i'm so excited #i hope you like it #peter parker #tony stark #time travel #steve rogers #bucky barnes #sam wilson #ben parker #may parker #irondad #spiderson #endgame #avengers #avengers: endgame #i tried basing the sort of panic attack on ones i've had

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flowerslut · 4 years

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happy whumptober

I’ll be following the lead of @volturialice in doing however many of these as I can in a Very Random order throughout the month. They will all be painfully unedited and posted as they’re written. Tonight’s prompt is a ‘canon’-divergent piece for my Call of the Night readers. (MAJOR SPOILERS for those who haven’t finished CotN)

No 16. A TERRIBLE, HORRIBLE, NO GOOD, VERY BAD DAY Forced to Beg | Hallucinations | Shoot the Hostage

Rating: T for allusions to violence Words: 2,238 Summary: The Protectors don’t make it to the clearing in time.

Borrowed Time

There isn’t a clock in the room.

There’s nothing, really. Not a bed—there would be no purpose for such a thing—or a chair—again, it would be meaningless—or even a window. Not one leading indoors or out. There’s a tiny vent on the ceiling, circulating air he doesn’t need to breathe, and there’s an intercom next to the black-painted door. The intercom is as pointless as the vent, in Jasper’s opinion. He hasn’t had a visitor in days.

Or maybe it’s been months.

He doesn’t quite think it’s been that long; his thirst isn’t bothering him as much as it usually does on a regular, everyday basis. (Or at least, he doesn’t think it is.) Which means he has to have fed recently. Which means someone has brought him blood. (Probably. He doesn’t think he’s hallucinated his meals.)

It doesn’t even frustrate him that he doesn’t remember. Or that he can’t tell what is real.

But there isn’t a clock in his room.

Sure, it won’t exactly help him orient himself. Knowing whether it is nine AM or six PM makes no difference in the grand scheme of things, but it may help settle him more.

His vision shimmers and blurs slightly. Jasper does what he’s done for days (or weeks or months) now: he stares straight ahead, unable to even brace himself, as the hallucination seizes him.

He doesn’t mind them anymore. After all, he’s been powerless to stop their onslaught. Just in the same way he’s powerless to control anything he does while they take over. It’s a strange feeling. He’s slowly becoming accustomed to the way his mind and body act while the world around him—a world that he’s not entirely sure is real or not—morphs and shifts.

He’s barely aware of the way he screams sometimes. At nothing, at everything.

It’s as if he’s been split in two. He is Jasper. He knows that much. But whatever hold Skye has put on him—whatever sickness she’s afflicted his mind with—has forced him, or the essence of who he is, to retreat far back into the recesses of his mind. When he’s able to think coherent thoughts he wonders if he’ll ever be able to make it back out of the pit he’s dug for himself in his own mind. In the area of his subconsciousness that is still his.

He’s partly aware of how he sees Maria in front of him. She’s dangling something, trying to draw his attention. He focuses on the detached limb she’s waving in front of his face, as if taunting him, and instantaneously he recognizes Alice’s skinny wrist.

He lunges at Maria but when his hands squeeze around her throat suddenly she’s not in his grasp and he’s spinning and hissing and screaming.

“You did so good,” he hears her voice purr as he desperately tries to find her in this room. “You did everything I needed you to.” Her accented voice is as high and clear as it’s ever been.

The part of his mind that is still sane struggles to be heard. She isn’t here. She’s lying. Alice is fine. Alice is okay. Focus. Ignore it.

But Jasper growls and lunges and yells for so long that eventually it’s been so long since he heard Maria’s voice in his ear that he doesn’t know how long he’s been screaming for.

And there isn’t even a clock in the room.

His body calms down as his mind begins to agonize over the woman he loves.

Alice. He wants to cry out for her. Where are you?

But he’s terrified to even attempt to speak the words out loud. He isn’t confident in his body’s ability to obey an order from the part of his mind that still belongs to him. And even if he could find his tongue and utter that two-syllable name he’s petrified that Maria’s voice will answer in reply.

Dead. She’s dead and you killed her. Those are the words she would say. Those are the words he’s heard her say in his mind for days or weeks or months now. Even before he’d been confined to this room they were the words he’d been haunted with. From the first nightmare Skye gifted him with to the most vivid hallucinations that seize him in this tiny, inescapable room.

He’s not entirely sure where he is. He knows he’s not in the clutches of Maria or her radicals any longer. The only solid memory he’s been able to form in the past few months is of the night his comrades took him back into their custody.

The smell of funeral pyres burning had registered in his senses before his airways had been cut off with a strong arm wrapping around his neck, ready to pluck his head from his shoulders at a moments notice.

He would’ve recognized Emmett’s signature hold anywhere and would have cried with relief if he’d been able to inhale enough air to complete the motion, but he was instead stuck frozen. After an unknown amount of time being subjected to Maria’s manipulation and Skye’s torture, he had nearly forgotten what it felt like to see, and to feel, and to breathe the air around him.

He’d forgotten what it felt like to exist in the real world.

With the way Emmett was holding him, Jasper’s head was stuck upward, staring as smoke filtered it’s way into the sky, the dark gray slowly blending into the blackness and dimming the stars above.

“Maria,” he managed to choke the word out with the little bit of air still left in his lungs. Kill her, he screamed mentally, just in case Edward was nearby.

And he was. Not two seconds later the sound of Edward’s distraught voice carried across the clearing.

“She’s dead,” Edward spoke monotonously, and Jasper couldn’t figure out why he didn’t sound relieved to be saying such a thing. Instead of relief, waves of sorrow and dread rolled over him as Edward continued uttering the words, over and over again, as if in disbelief. “She’s dead.”

He heard Bella crying—of course Bella was nearby, that was probably how they’d momentarily freed his mind from Skye’s hold—and then suddenly the haze was back, and he was lost to the nightmares once more.

Jasper doesn’t know how long ago that was, but it had been far too long.

Perhaps they’re still searching for a more permanent solution to his predicament. After all, Bella can’t linger by his side and shield him for the rest of their eternity. Perhaps there isn’t a solution. Perhaps this is their solution: to keep him locked away.

In all of his past research into Alice’s records, he’d never once given a thought about how a vampire asylum might operate if such a thing existed. But here he is, locked away with his mind wrapped up tight inside a snare, at the mercy to the lunacy that owns him now.

Time passes, because it always does, but Jasper doesn’t have a clock, so Jasper doesn’t know how long it is before suddenly he’s on his knees, inhaling what feels like his first breath of air in years.

He’s caught himself somehow and spends several seconds staring at the backs of his scarred hands. What he’s seeing is real, and he can just barely hear the sound of very muffled voices from beyond the door of wherever it is he’s being kept.

He’s scared to speak but after a few seconds, when the clarity doesn’t subside, he calls out as loudly as he dares. “Hello?”

His voice isn’t raspy but he knows that it isn’t carrying beyond the door. “Hello?” He calls louder this time, and the quiet sounds coming from somewhere outside of this room silence completely.

The lack of noise nearly drives him back into madness instantly.

“Please, don’t go. I need to know what—where am I? What’s going on?” He’s begging before he can control himself. On his hands and knees he pleads to whoever is listening in on his desperation, feeling like the shell of a man. “Please tell me you can fix this,” he raises his voice even louder as he calls out. “Please, I just want to talk to somebody.” Along with the clarity, he realizes something. “Bella? Are you there?”

The intercom clicks on.

“Hey, Jasper. You gotta stand up and back up or I can’t come in.”

It’s Emmett.

Jasper is so relieved to hear his voice that in a millisecond he’s off of the ground and as far away from the door as he can physically be in the tiny room.

“Now, I don’t want you attacking me or whatever, so you’ve gotta turn around and put your hands on the back of your head. Sorry man.”

Before Emmett’s even apologizing for the request Jasper has already done what has been asked of him. He doesn’t even care—and it makes sense; Jasper isn’t positive that he won’t attack Emmett—he’s so full of hope and relief that he would jump up and down like a fool if it meant he’d be in the company of someone familiar for any measure of time.

Jasper can hear more muffled noises before the intercom clicks on again. There’s a long sigh. “I know,” the first two words aren’t directed at Jasper, but the rest are. “You’re not allowed to turn around while I’m in there, okay?”

“Okay, I won’t.” Jasper quickly assures the man. He’s so antsy to be in Emmett’s presence. He has thousands of questions and he’s praying his comrade—the closest thing to a friend he has in this world—will be able to help him understand what’s happening.

The hiss of the door opening causes a feeling of such pure relief that Jasper knows Emmett feels it the instant he’s in the room. But when Jasper doesn’t feel the door close behind Emmett, he knows something is off.

“Emmett?”

“Yeah, I’m here.”

Hearing his voice in person brings emotion straight to the surface and suddenly Jasper is afraid he might start to cry. As he struggles to reign in his emotions, he laces his fingers together behind his head and presses his forehead against the wall, squeezing his eyes shut tightly.

“Where is everyone?” Jasper asks. “Bella is here, right? That’s why I can talk to you. I know that much. Is Skye dead? Is that why I can’t break free from whatever is wrong with me?”

“Bella’s around,” Emmett confirms, his words short. “Skye is alive, too.”

“So she can fix this?”

There’s a pause in which Jasper feels his stomach tighten. “We think so.” But Emmett’s words sound strange.

“Alice?” Jasper asks, still afraid that Maria will appear before him and start taunting him again. The fear just drives him to ask again, but louder, and with more urgency. “Is she here? Is she around?”

“Yeah,” Emmett’s voice cracks as he takes a few steps closer.

“I—can I talk to her?” He hates how childish he sounds. At the same time he hardly cares. He needs Alice more than he needs his sanity. Without her, he doesn’t even know what the purpose of fighting his way out of this haze even is.

“Yeah, you can.”

“I—” It only takes Jasper a few seconds to realize he can’t sense Alice in the vicinity; her emotional climate is so distinct that he would be able to sense her anywhere. Perhaps even in a hallucination. But with that thought, he isn’t so sure. “Do you have to call her? Where is she?”

“You can talk to her soon.” Emmett is much closer now, and every one of Jasper’s instincts has begun to alarm. He wants to turn around so badly and face his almost-friend. He wants to see a face that doesn’t belong to a hallucination and he wants more than anything to hold Alice in his arms once more.

“How soon?” Jasper demands, a crazed desperation beginning to take hold as he feels Emmett stop directly behind him. “I have to talk to her. I need to know she’s okay. You were right, Emmett. I love her. I need to tell her; I haven’t even told her yet.”

Emmett has to interrupt his escalating tirade. “You can tell her in a second,” and he hears Emmett shift slightly. With relief Jasper relaxes, anticipating the inevitable phone conversation that will transpire soon. Emmett must be pulling up Alice’s number because there’s a couple of seconds of silence before he speaks again. “You did really good, Jasper. You helped us finish things.”

“The war is over?” Jasper lets more of his weight rest forward and against the wall as Emmett’s words seep into his bones. “Maria is dead?”

“It’s all over buddy. Everything is going to be okay now.”

“And I’ll be able to talk to Alice soon.”

“Yeah,” and as Emmett’s voice cracks again, Jasper feels emotion begin to stir in him, too. “Real, soon, Jasper.”

“Okay,” Jasper whispers, relaxing as he hears Emmett shift his stance once more. “Okay.”

There is no clock in the room. Jasper Whitlock isn’t given a time of death. But time continues to pass nonetheless. The future comes, unseen. Ashes are intermingled with ashes. Love reunited in death and laid to rest together.

There is no clock in the room. But time does not stop.

#b4 any of u say anything: you're welcome that I didn't do this in cotn #jalice #twilight fanfiction #cotn #whumptober2020

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underthewingsofthblackeagle · 4 years

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“Berliner Fernsehturm” * Foto: BernardoUPloud

After her marriage with Frank Randall has failed and Claire Beauchamp flees from her violent husband, she finds refuge in the house of the Fraser/Murray family in Berlin-Wilhelmshorst. But then tensions arise between Britain (which has since left the EU) and some EU member states. All holders of an English passport are required to leave EU territory within six weeks … and suddenly Claire’s fate looks more uncertain than ever.

This story was written for the #14DaysofOutlander event, hosted by @scotsmanandsassenach

Chapter 9: 14 Men (5)

After she sat down and Jamie poured everyone a glass of water, Ferdinand Groide began:

"Mrs. Beauchamp, Jamie, Mr. Fraser, told me that your husband is Dr. Frank Randall. Is that correct?"

(...)

"As you may also know, I have left my husband. Our marriage had been on paper only for several years. I intend to ask for a divorce, if that's possible from here. But I still have to care about this man's life. I'm a doctor, I took an oath. If I reveal the secrets I have learned... what will you do to him?"

"What do you mean? What are we going to do with him?"

"Will you hurt him? I mean, will you let someone hurt him?"

Ferdinand Groide and Jamie looked at each other in amazement.

"Mrs. Beauchamp, we're not the Mafia. We don't hire hit men."

"But you're in Intelligence, Mr. Groide."

Claire said that sentence with the same calm and objectivity as if she was saying to Jenny:

"If you put one more egg in the batter, it gets better."

"And intelligence agencies do these things," she added to her statement with the same objectivity.

"Well, maybe the CIA or the KGB. Let me answer you this way: In my opinion, a living Frank Randall is far more interesting and valuable to a secret service than a dead Frank Randall."

"In other words, you guarantee me that the information I give you will not endanger his life."

Groide and Jamie looked at each other again.

"Promise me."

It wasn't a question, it wasn't a request, it was a demand, and the words Claire used to make that demand left none of the men unaware that there was no alternative to this bargain for them.

Groide struck the hand Claire held out to him.

"You have my word, Mrs. Beauchamp. You don't know me yet and you probably mistrust me. That's only natural. But Jamie, Mr. Fraser, can assure you that I'm a man of my word."

Claire looked over at Jamie. He nodded.

"Done."

She reached for the glass of water that Jamie had put in her hand and emptied it in one gulp.

Then she began to talk.

"Microphone" by Florian-Media

"It was in the year 2015, in late November 2015 to be exact."

"Excuse me, Mrs. Beauchamp," Groide objected, "but we ought to do this properly."

He removed from his briefcase a device whose rectangular clunkness was reminiscent of an early mobile phone. After placing it in the center of the table, he inserted two small, round microphones attached to longer cables, one pointing at Claire and one pointing at himself. Groide pressed the record button, then he gave the date, time, place, names of those present and, as the reason for the recording, ‘Statement by Dr. Claire Elisabeth Beauchamp’.

Jamie had to smile. Ferdinand was a friendly person, but he was also a German bureaucrat. Everything had to follow the specific order and everything had to be done 'by the book'. Those Germans. They had rules for everything. They couldn't just have a conversation like that, it had to be a 'statement' and of course it had to be 'recorded'. In this country everything was recorded, either on paper or on tape. And then everything was filed, paginated, numbered and archived. Nothing was lost. They were so damn meticulous, these Germans, but also so damn effective.

"Please begin with your personal life, Mrs. Beauchamp. Name, birthday, place of birth, family, etc."

"My name is Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp. I was born in London on October 20, 1993, the only child of Julia, née Moriston, and Henry Montmorency Beauchamp. My mother was a primary school teacher, my father worked as a statistician for an insurance company. In the winter of 1998 my parents were killed in a car accident. My uncle, Lambert Quentin Beauchamp, was appointed by the authorities as my foster father and guardian. He was my only living relative, my father's only brother. Due to the activities of my uncle, who was an egyptologist and archaeologist, I grew up in England for only a short time, the rest of the time we spend abroad. When I was 16 years old, my uncle returned to England permanently and accepted a professorship at Oxford University. Shortly afterwards I began training as a nurse. Also in Oxford. At the age of 19, I had just completed my education, I met my future husband Franklin Wolverton Randall through my uncle. He also worked in the history department and specialised in Scottish history. At times he worked as an assistant to a professor. We married the following year. My uncle died only a few months later. His health had unfortunately not been the best at the end of his life. When my husband was called to Harvard University's history department, we moved to Boston.

"Oxford" by MarlonRondal

Groide nodded. Jamie was sure that nothing Claire had told him so far was new to his friend. Guaranteed, they had checked Claire from the day he requested the visa for her passport. And they had certainly not been idle since then. At "In Vino Veritas" there was a small but very effective group of staff who had certainly dug up everything they could find about the young woman in the past few days.

"When and how did you learn of your husband's secret activities?"

"It was in the year 2015, in late November of that year to be exact. Does the name Jonathan Pollard mean anything to you?"

Jamie listened with new interest. Groide just nodded.

"Then you know that this man has served thirty years in the United States for espionage. In 2015 he was released on parole and in the American media there was a lot of coverage and discussion for days. I had never heard this man's name before and, to be honest, I didn't care about the whole thing. However, I listened up when my husband spoke about it. It was a Sunday, two days after Pollard was released. I remember the whole thing so well because that day was the day of the terrible accident in that jademine in Myanmar, where 90 people were killed and over 100 people were missing. We had had dinner and then Frank turned on the TV. There was a talk show where the case was discussed. My husband had already started drinking in the afternoon. While Frank was watching the talk show, I thought, ‘My goodness, they're talking about an age-old espionage case and people are dying elsewhere without the media even paying attention.’"

Claire reached for her glass, which Jamie had refilled in the meantime, and took a big sip.

"I didn't pay much attention to the discussion on TV. But then suddenly Frank started mumbling loudly:

'Spy! Spy! Spy! Nonsense! The man was an amateur! What real spy leaves secret documents openly on his desk in the office and his wife was stupid enough to leave a suitcase with secret documents with a neighbour who was in the military himself!’”

Claire reached for her glass again and drank.

"What he said made me furious, so I said to him: 'Oh yes, but you know how a real spy behaves!’ I thought his reaction was terribly arrogant. To my surprise, he then turned down the TV. He came over and sat down with me on the sofa. He looked me in the eyes and grinned. Then he said, ‘Yes, my darling, I know that. The MI5 recruited and trained me while I was still studying at Oxford. Right after they heard I was going to specialise in Scottish history. With my family background and the good connections we had in the military and police through my cousin Jonathan, there were no obstacles.’”

"Books" by MichaelGaida

"How did you react to that?"

"Well, at first I was stumped. I thought he was just showing-off again. So I replied, ‘Why would the MI5 need an expert in Scottish history?’ He replied, ‘Well, of course you can't imagine, you little fool. Good God, Claire! The Scots want independence and just because last year's referendum went so well, they will not give up. It's their history they're drawing strength from! What do you think will happen if they really gain their independence? It could set off a chain reaction. You know that Prime Minister Cameron announced two years ago that he would hold a referendum on Britain's withdrawal from the EU if he was re-elected in 2015? So? He has been re-elected! Now there must be a referendum. And what if Britain's withdrawal from the EU is carried out but Scotland becomes independent and is then admitted to the EU as a member? Did you ever think about that? This is going to get us in big trouble! Then the EU will continue to stand with two legs on our island! We can't let that happen.’”

Claire paused for a moment, then she went on: "I must have looked at him in wonder and disbelief, because suddenly he stormed out of the living room. I heard him looking for something in his study. When he came back he had a newspaper article in his hand which he held in front of my face. ‘Read it,’ he said to me. ‘Our government takes this danger seriously... and so should you!‘ I took the article and read. It was an article in the International Business Times in July 2015. It reported that the Prime Minister had met with the CEOs of a media company. The purpose of the meeting was allegedly to prevent the broadcast of a TV series about the Scottish Rebellion of 1746 before the referendum on Scottish independence. It seems that a request has been made to postpone the broadcast. I later found on his desk a copy of an article from ‘The Scotsman’, which also covered the subject in detail.” Groide and Jamie looked at each other and smiled. Both men nodded, but said nothing.

"Frankly," Claire continued, "I hadn't given the matter any thought at all. In the five years before, I had been mainly busy finishing my medical studies and gaining experience as a doctor. You don't have much time to worry about other things. Besides, due to my, well, somewhat non-conformist upbringing, I was never so much confined to one country alone ..."

"How is it that despite medical school, your husband still refers to you as..." Groide is looking for words, "intellectually... weaker...?” "Frank believes that medical school would consist largely of memorizing the contents of textbooks. He thought that people's bodies were somehow all the same and that if you had learned the appropriate forms of treatment, then you could treat them. He never understood the diversity and complexity of the human body and how medical science reacts to it." "Did your husband explain his duties for the MI5 to you?" "When I told him that Scotland's history, and Scotland's ambitions for independence, were well known, he told me not to think so superficially. He said that historians are not only concerned with the past. They can also make predictions about the future to a certain extent, based on their knowledge. I should think about what the clan system had meant and still means to the Scots. Why did the English central government everything to destroy it after the Jacobite uprising of 1746? England should not allow a united counter-power to be formed again in the north of the country. He was probably particularly concerned about this lobby group, One Banner for all Scots, which had formed the year before."

"Scottish Independence" by Emphyrio Claire was focused on Ferdinand Groide and the recording equipment in front of her. She didn't see Jamie's face become more and more thoughtful.

"Mrs. Beauchamp, all this is interesting, but... not very specific." "At first, I too got to know only general things. It only became more specific later when I did... well, my own... research. "You did your own research?" Groide suddenly seemed interested again. Jamie tried not to smile. What seemed like a minor revelation to his friend only confirmed what he had been thinking all along. Claire was an intelligent, strong woman. Her strength might have been broken for a time by what her husband had done to her. But Jamie was sure that she would find her way back to that strength. And he vowed to himself that he would do everything he could to help her. "I thought Frank was a braggart for a long time, but... I can't describe it exactly. Something had caught my interest. Then a colleague asked me if I would trade a weekly shift with her. She would have had a night shift, but her babysitter was unavailable. I agreed and that same afternoon I went to the university library and borrowed books on Scottish history and the independence movement. The department where I was on night duty was not very labour-intensive. I had a lot of time to read and think during the nights of that week." She paused for a moment. "After that week, I became aware of the urgency of the issue." Groide didn't say anything, but his gaze urged her to continue. "National self-determination. Well, there's no need to explain that further. Scotland's oil. 64% of Europe's oil reserves are on Scottish territory. They're said to be worth 4 trillion pounds. Then there is the issue of renewable energy. I mean Scotland has 25 % of Europe's wind energy potential, 25 % of Europe's tidal energy potential and 10 % of Europe's wave energy potential. I do not have to tell you that these are also enormous financial potentials." A fine smile appeared on Groide's face. "And then, of course, there is the question of nuclear disarmament: with control of defence and foreign policy, an independent Scotland could tackle the elimination of Trident nuclear weapons, an issue long associated with the campaign for an independent Scotland. Trident class submarines carrying missiles with 120 nuclear warheads are based at the Clyde naval base near Glasgow. In the event of Scottish independence, England would have to withdraw these weapons and revise its defence strategy. I imagine that would be a thorn in the side of the American allies as well. There will certainly be a lot of diplomatic pressure behind the scenes." Claire took a deep breath. "Now you're going to tell me that this is all public information and I would agree with you. But I wasn't aware of it before. These informations woke me up. It took a while but when I had the opportunity to take on another week of night shifts I immediately agreed. In this time I developed a kind of plan. I was eager to find out if Frank's statement was true. At first I tried to track when he was going to conferences or work meetings. Not all of them, but several of them took him to England and Scotland. I can't prove it, but I had the impression that his travels became more frequent at times when 'the Scottish theme' was boiling up. Later, after 2015, and particularly after the brexite, his travels intensified.” To Jamie's surprise, Claire reached into her handbag, which she had hung on the back of her chair, and pulled out a piece of paper she handed over to Ferdinand Groide.

"Tea" by Pexels "This is a list of all the trips my husband has taken since 2013. supposedly for reasons of his work as a historian." Groide skimmed the list, then put it aside. "Thank you very much. We will try to verify the data." "In the weeks that followed, I voluntarily took several weeks of night duty. Because there was another advantage to this. I was at home while my husband was at university and could look through his records almost undisturbed."

"Will you share the knowledge you have gained from this?" "Yes. But perhaps we could have some tea?" Claire replied as she looked at Jamie. "Certainly." He got up and left the room. Ferdinand Groide pressed the 'stop' button on the recorder. Then he got up and stretched a bit. Claire did the same.

#14DaysofOutlander #From Boston to Berlin in 14 Hours #Outlander #Outlander fan Fiction #Boston #Berlin #Claire Beauchamp #Jamie Fraser #Frank Randall #Jonathan Randall #Ian Murray #Jenny Murray

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words-writ-in-starlight · 4 years

Note

I've always thought that LWJ didn't really spend 16 years hunting to find WWX. I'm sure he kept his eyes open and looked for any sign of demonic cultivation, sure. But I also think he spent 16 years looking for danger so that he could increase his chance of dying young. Trouble is, he's too skilled to die easy. I headcanon that Lan Xichen made LWJ take the juniors with him on night hunts because he knew his brother wouldn't put /other/ people in clear danger, & he just wanted to keep LWJ alive.

ANGST! No dialogue, noplot, just ANGST! This is who I havealways been!

It’s not—Xichenknows that his brother isn’t likely to die on a night hunt. It’s not thatsimple. In a way, he’s not even worried for him. No matter whatelse he is or may be, Xichen’s brother is still Hanguang-jun, the bearer oflight, who stormed Wen supervisory strongholds and who stood against most ofthe cultivation world and whose skill as a warrior is very arguablyunparalleled. The only one who could match him—

Well. Xichen doesn’t worry about his brotherbeing beaten in battle, these days.

And he doesn’t worry about Wangji allowing himselfto be killed, either, although that’s a closer way to define it. There islittle A-Yuan, sweet-eyed Lan Sizhui, to think about, who Wangji loves with adesperate ferocity Xichen has only seen in him once before. Sizhui is twelve and the best son any father could hope for, in Xichen’sadmittedly biased opinion, talented and kind and earnest, easy to love andquick to love in return. Xichen loves him almost as recklessly as heloves his brother. He can do nothing less for the only person who seemsto bring his solemn didi joy anymore.

He is utterly confident that Wangji would neverleave his son, never, not for all the peace that might be found on the otherside of a sword.

This absolute truth,this wholehearted confidence that Wangji will always return, no matter thechallenge, no matter the risk, makes it difficult to explain why Xichenworries.

The thing is, Lan Wangji, Hanguang-jun, A-Zhan, is dimmed, in away that tears at Xichen to see it. He is less, as if he abandoned more than just color when hestopped wearing blue. There were days, when Xichen would visit duringWangji’s seclusion—and the elders be damned, for trying to stop him, for tryingto keep A-Yuan away, he is Sect Leader and he was not having it—when he wouldhave sworn that he might have seen straight through his brother. Wangjihas always been quiet, he was a quiet baby, but since—since, he’s been aghost of himself. Even after three years in seclusion and nearly a decadeto heal, Xichen still barely recognizes him. A thick shade has settledover the light in Xichen’s brother, and he is afraid that someday, whileHanguang-jun will come back from a night hunt, that faint light will not.

Xichen is supposed to be wise, he’s supposed to beZewu-jun, he’s supposed to be the calm, enlightened Sect Leader of GusuLan, buthe doesn’t know how to help his brother. He hasn’t found a good answer inall this time. He knows that the wound of—that the wound won’t heal becauseWangji won’t let it heal, and he doesn’t know where to go fromhere.

He remembers when Sizhui first began to learn toplay the guqin, and brought a piece to Xichen in childlike pride. Hislullaby, he had called it as he plucked out a careful melody, learned by heart. Without spiritual energy directed and channeled, without the complexities of anexperienced hand, it was only music, but Xichen had listened to Inquiry toomany times not to be able to translate it.

Are you there?

Are you lost?

Are you at peace?

Are you with your sister? Your parents? Your people?

Are you waiting?

I miss you.

It’s not—it’s not a search, not anymore, Xichendoesn’t think. It’s been too long to expect an answer, and Wangji hasnever been a fool. But Wangji can do nothing else. There’s nowherefor him to bow, there was no vigil to keep, there will never be anyone whoburns paper money or grieves with him. So Wangji plays Inquiry, over andover again, to a spirit that doesn’t answer, and someday Sizhui will learnInquiry himself, and know that his lullaby was always a eulogy spoken insecret.

Once, Xichen tried to make his brother stop. Tried to make him leave off his long, slow grief, to shakehim out of his ghost-self and back to life and light. He hadn’t been ableto think of anything except to take Wangji’s guqin, an attempt to force him tostop, stop, playing that damned unanswered query. Andit had worked, in a way. The cold, blinding flare of rage, when Wangjiswept uninvited into Xichen’s rooms and demanded flatly that his instrument bereturned, please, Sect Leader Lan—it had been good to see. Proof that,even if the embers were banked and dull-glowing, there was still a fire to bewoken in Xichen’s brother. But the days of bitter silence, afterward,wasn’t worth the short-lived victory.

Sizhui had sided with his father, of course, even ifhe didn’t then understand what the point of contention was. He had given Xichen affronted looks andorbited closer to Wangji than usual for weeks. Sizhui had always knownthat there was a wound somewhere in his adopted father, in that sharpperceptive way that’s entirely too unlike Wangji, entirely too himself to beanything but a relic of before Cloud Recesses, the time that he doesn’tremember and Wangji won’t discuss.

Xichen has his theories. But Lan Sizhui is thepride of GusuLan Sect, the brightest light in his father’s life, and Xichen isgrateful that someone else loves his brother enough to be angry on hisbehalf. Xichen’s theories have been buried in a shallow grave for manyyears.

And Wangji is only himself, in any way thatXichen can recognize, with Sizhui. It’sbeen like that ever since he first brought the boy back, when A-Yuan, feverishand delirious and calling for people none of them knew, crept into hissickbed. Wangji had been barely responsive,had allowed the physicians to tend his scourged back and had stared at the wall,not sleeping, not meditating, not speaking, just waiting. When Xichen got word that his brother hadspoken, to call the weeping A-Yuan over and tell him, quietly, that the man hecalled for was not going to come back, he’d felt a rush of relief like hislungs trying to jump out of his mouth. But he hadn’t spoken to Xichen, not that day, nor for several more, onlyholding A-Yuan close while the boy slept.

Xichen hadn’t gotten a word out of his brother foreight days after he was whipped, and then, when he finally did, it was only toclaim A-Yuan as his son in a tone that broke Xichen’s heart. He had forced the elders to accept the child withoutarguing or demanding details from Wangji, had simply put him in the sectrecords as Lan Yuan and stared down anyone who questioned his actions. Xichen would have done anything Wangji askedof him, in that moment, anything to keep him talking, anything to keep A-Yuan nearhim. Wangji had been nearly a corpsehimself, in those early days, lightless even in the presence of A-Yuan’s tinysun, but he had moved and spoken and lived when A-Yuan was near. The effect should have grown less pronouncedas Wangji returned to himself, but instead it has only made the difference moreapparent.

Maybe that’s what he’s worried about, when Wangjileaves on night hunts. Some part ofXichen never got over the fear of it, of seeing his solemnly brilliant diditransformed into a shell, silent and detached, the heart of him carved out. Some part of him is terrified still, thatbeing away from Sizhui for too long will let Wangji slip back into thatnumbness, that corpse-cold stillness, so different from his familiar reserve.

Hanguang-jun would never die on a night hunt, notthrough anything but dire misfortune. Heis still the best of the Lan, their bearer of light. But Xichen is secretly, desperately afraidthat, someday, one of the reports they receive of resentful spirits and demoniccultivation will be true, and he will not get his brother back.

Wangji never allows anyone else to investigate thosereports, the ones that claim in half-hysterics to be the Yiling Patriarchreborn, or trapped as a spirit, or the dramatics of the day. He always comes back with flat unfeelingreports of frightened villagers and exaggerations and resentful spirits easilydispatched. And when Xichen gets down tothe bone of it, the living core of his fear for his brother, Xichen is horriblysure that someday, someday, Wangji will come back from one of those nighthunts and say nothing at all and shimmer out of existence at last, a heatmirage under a cold wind.

It isn’t suitable for Zewu-jun, Sect Leader Lan, tohate someone. Xichen thinks about itsometimes during meditation, about how foreign it feels, this hard hot chip ofloathing, and worries at it like a loose tooth, tries to pry it out of place tobe discarded. He can’t manage it.

He hates Wei Wuxian, for what his death has doneto Xichen’s brother.

For standing up when everyone else knelt down, eventhough it cost him everything, life and family and sanity all gone in a merehandful of months.

For what finding his resentful spirit would do tothe last light in Hanguang-jun.

So. He just—hehas to find a way to keep Wangji from following these leads. It isn’t healthy for Wangji, and none of themever have any sign of the man himself anyway, dead or otherwise. Xichen has to find an excuse to send othercultivators after fantasies of the Yiling Patriarch, and that means findingsomething to keep Wangji busy.

Wangji is only himself around Sizhui—a quieter,sadder self, to be sure, but the honest adoring boy that Xichen half-raisednonetheless. Sizhui, while a prodigy, istoo young for night hunting.

The junior disciples are promising and bright, andWangji needs a—a check, for lack of a better word. Something that will force him to speak, tointeract, to think of safety and security rather than only results.

He will not appreciate what Xichen is going to do,but someday, Sizhui will be on night hunts too. This is—this is practice. Maybe then Wangji will brighten again, traveling with the son headores. Maybe then Xichen will be ableto sleep while his brother is gone.

#the untamed #mdzs #lan xichen #lan wangji #the untamed fic #starlight writes stuff #hellooooo friends!!!!!!!#i hear you wanted angst??????#i have angst #my case for the name usage here is lxc calls lwj by courtesy name pretty much exclusively BUT only calls him lan wangji in formal context #otherwise it's just wangji. i assume that he extends this to other people to whom he is close #anyway i did a bunch of research today on name meanings and um #it hurts me that a different 'yuan' is used in 'wen yuan' than in 'lan yuan'#('lan yuan' the character used means like...'to wish' or 'to hope' and also 'sizhui' means 'to remember and long for' so! that's fine!)#i'm writing a fic about that also! actually it's just...lwj's perspective of that eight days #it's ALSO only angst!#but yeah #*sits down with a powerpoint and fifteen pages of conference notes* y'all wanna talk about sizhui growing up hearing inquiry every night?#he worries a LOT about his father after young master mo shows up because suddenly there's no music at night #and like. he understands that playing inquiry over and over again isn't the healthiest coping mechanism in the world.#but the only time he's known his father NOT to play every night is when lwj is hurt or that one day that lxc took his guqin #sizhui is WORRIED until he figures out what's up #a queue we will keep and our honor someday avenge #Anonymous #asked and answered

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ofclaires · 4 years

Photo

⌠ MAYA HAWKE, 21, CISFEMALE, SHE/HER ⌡ welcome back to gallagher academy, CLAIRE WALSH! according to their records, they’re a FOURTH year, specializing in THREAT ELIMINATION; and they DID go to a spy prep high school. when i see them walking around in the halls, i usually see a flash of (chipped black nail polish, a leather jacket with boxing gloves slung over the shoulder, bandaged knuckles, and a wicked smirk). when it’s the (aries)’s birthday on 3/31/99, they always request MAC & CHEESE from the school’s chefs. looks like they’re well on their way to graduation. ⌿ kati 22, she/her, est ⍀

STATS / PINTEREST / CONNECTIONS / CLASSES

INSPIRATION.

Rosa Diaz - Brooklyn 99

Kat Stratford - 10 Things I Hate About You

Faith Lehane - Buffy the Vampire Slayer

Mandy Milkovich - Shameless

Akane Owari – Danganronpa

Arya Stark – Game of Thrones

Kim Kelly – Freaks and Geeks

Kyo Sohma – Fruits Basket

BACKGROUND + CLICK FOR BIO.

pre-gallagher.

her parents were young as hell when they had her so she was raised by her grandma in her earlier years ! claire gets a lot of her values from her grandma, mainly her biting sarcasm and devil-may-care sort of attitude. she tells claire stories of her grandfather, who was a champion boxer and it ignites claire’s interest in the sport from a young age. she grows up without a tv and plays outside a lot.

her grandma dies when claire’s about eight years old and she goes to live with her mom, who spends the money from the will about as fast as it lands in her pocket. her mom dates a lot of unsavory dudes.

she and her mom actually grow quite close over the years, but a lot of times it’s claire taking care of her mom and not the other way around. the entrance to their trailer is like a revolving door for shady dudes and her mother drinks too much and sort of acts like an overgrown teenager, never ready to let go of her youth. claire learns a lot of responsibility and independence as a result of this.

her mom finally lands a dude that seems like a genuinely nice guy that makes her want to settle down and become a housewife. claire likes seeing her mom starting to act like an adult, and their lives start to turn around. he’s rich and they wind up moving in with him after the wedding, but things change shortly after, and he reveals a darker, more manipulative and abusive side of himself.

he takes claire out of her passion, boxing, because it’s not ladylike enough, and he starts talking to claire’s mom about boarding school. it’s then that he starts fighting your mom more physically as they disagree.

the climax of the drama is when he hits claire ( she’s sneaking around and still boxing ) , but claire knows how to hit back hard. claire’s mom gets caught in the fray, it’s a huge fight, and claire nearly kills the guy ( tbi for sure. )

as a result of the incident, claire is recruited to a spy prep school in new york at age 16, her sophomore of high school. claire’s angry and closed off, and has a difficult time making friends in high school. but she does go through a lot of anger management and such.

gallagher academy.

YEAR ONE: claire gets adjusted to school at gallagher academy, determined to prove herself among some of the world’s best. she quickly gains a reputation for her prowess in combat and spends long hours in the gym training. she slowly starts to open herself up to the idea of making friends.

YEAR TWO: even though claire’s made friends, she still keeps secrets about her past, keeping her guard up. she receives letters from her mom about a new guy she’s seeing, and an invitation to her mother’s wedding. she ignores it. she and her mom still haven’t spoken since she was sixteen. near the end of the year, she gets a postcard that her mom is moving to iceland, but she does nothing about it.

YEAR THREE: ( where our story started )

boys come to campus and claire feels like she has to fight harder for her reputation as THE BEST, isn’t pleased with their presence due to a longstanding distrust when it comes to men.

claire’s ego is boosted after she’s been chosen for a MISSION, to explore the abandoned boys’ school, blackthorne academy. there, she and mary sakamoto discover that it was a school for assassins. explains why claire keeps getting her ass kicked – these boys have been trained to kill.

witness protection kids come to campus, resulting in the death of one of them and gallagher student, amelia taylor. claire feels helpless as a result, always thinking of herself as a protector and gallagher has always been her stronghold, her safe place, and it all feels threatened.

claire has a falling out with a friend and feels super alone with all this shit going on and winds out reaching out to her mom. i wrote a self-para here, but her mom invites her to come stay for the summer.

when a brotherhood member is discovered on campus, she teams up with a group of...unlikely allies, and sneaks into the sublevels to kick his ass. his current status is unknown, and he’s quite possibly dead. either way, as far as she knows, they were never caught.

claire visits her mom in iceland for the summer (details here) and they sort of mend things. she meets her moms new husband and actually likes him.

PERSONALITY.

DETERMINED – when claire sets her mind to something, she will stop at nothing to accomplish it. she’d probably even risk death to accomplish her goals, she simply can’t accept failure.

HARD-WORKING – claire can pretty much always be found in the gym, trying to make herself better. it’s honestly a running joke how often claire is working out, but there’s a basis in it. honestly, claire thinks her only value is her muscle, so if that’s what she’s good at, she’s going to be the best. she’s that kid in your gym class that’s going way too hard for no fucking reason like calm down.

BRAVE – there’s little that claire fears, and even her fears don’t generally stop her from accomplishing her goals. you could chalk up some of her bravery to determination, but she’s been through enough that she doesn’t really stop to consider what she’s going to lose. so maybe it’s also stupidity!

LOYAL – it’s really challenging for claire to form connections, but when she does, she latches on. when she cares for someone, she really cares for them, and she’s pretty ride or die. this sort of loyalty can be a burden for some of her friends, because she can be somewhat overbearing.

ANGRY – claire’s probably best known for her anger, it’s like she walks around with a fuse waiting to be lit at the slightest inconvenience. funnily enough, her training has made her better at controlling it, but she’s still known to snap.

RECKLESS – claire often acts impulsively, says the first thought in her mind, does the first thing she can think to do in order to solve a problem. act first, ask questions later is usually her mantra, and sometimes it saves her ass – and sometimes it comes back to bite her in it.

DISTANT – claire finds it hard to open up or form connections with people, not often readily sharing her feels with people. she’s really averse to personal questions but she’s gotten better about sharing things about herself since making more friends at gallagher. still, she’s somewhat hard to get to know. i will refer you to this musing.

BRASH – she’s pretty cocky to a point that often comes off as rude, but the positive spin on it is that you’ll always know where you stand with claire. whether it’s good or bad, she’s up front, but most people she trains with are probably sick of her arrogance.

HEADCANONS/RANDOM FACTS.

can usually be found exercising. she’s really into sports and fitness and prior to the berlin internship, she used to spend her summers working at summer camps for athletes-in-training. she’s a pretty good coach, and tutors some of the other students that need help with their athletic prowess, although she’s described as a bit intense.

identified as bisexual until fairly recently, realizing that she doesn’t care or have much interest in romantic relationships with men ! so, now she identifies as a lesbian.

cannot sit through a movie to save her life, claire’s easily distracted and bored, always needing something to do. she didn’t grow up with a television set in her home either, so she hasn’t seen many movies and is a little out of touch with all things pop culture.

takes pictures like a mom, if you ask her to take a photo of you it’ll probably a) be a little blurry, b) have her thumb in it, or c) both.

really likes podcasts! she listens to them a lot during her workouts, while she runs the track, or anything else. claire’s not exactly known for her intelligence ( among the astronomical iqs of other gallagher students at least ) but she can spout some knowledge on things you wouldn’t expect.

generally a hard-ass but she’s a softie around animals, particularly dogs or cats, but catch her cooing and talking in a baby voice around puppies, she’s like a completely different person, pretty much.

drink of choice is whiskey, neat.

despite her preference for hand to hand combat, threat elimination has given her a multitude of skills. she keeps two knives on her at all times and sometimes wears a bulletproof vest for kicks. she’s prepared for anything.

#gallagher:intro #no need to reblog this on the intro blog tho ty #just updating everything!#abuse tw #violence tw #(light mentions/not much detail unless u click the bio tho)

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esoanem · 3 years

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III.

“No matter how many lies we tell ourselves, no matter how many stories we convince ourselves we’re part of, we’re all just thieves awaiting a noose”

Major Content Notes:

Sexual Assault: implied off-screen rape. In a second scene, the rape of the same woman in front of a crowd of onlookers is interrupted part way through. In a third scene, the same woman is shown sleeping naked next to a man, implied to be a continuation of the earlier events

Wikipedia Synopsis:

Flint asks Gates to seek additional help from Captain Hornigold to borrow his ship, Royal Lion, in search of the Urca de Lima. Meanwhile, Silver and Billy tackle a morale problem while they work together on discovering who the remaining mutineers are. During a captain's meeting to strike a deal, Eleanor is impressed by Vane's voice of reason and calm demeanor, which leads to them having an intimate encounter. However, once she finds out Max was raped by his crew, she punishes Vane by giving them an ultimatum. Also, Gates is promoted from quartermaster to captaining his own ship.

This episode is a rough one, and the main reason that I’m doing this series of posts at all, the sexual assault plotline (especially the second scene) is uncharacteristic of the show as a whole & protracted, and definitely should be skipped if you are likely to have a particularly bad time with such scenes

The timestamps section below says when each of those scene are, as well as giving a brief synopsis of those scenes so that you can skip those particular scenes without having to skip the whole episode reading the summary (although that is also a totally fine option)

Timestamps:

As ever, all timestamps are from the “Complete Collection” DVDs which includes a Starz logo at the start, as well as a recap. Depending on your source, timestamps may vary a little, which is why I’ve included the timestamp for the opening titles. Timestamps are only given for the start and end of scenes featuring any particularly warning-worthy content

00:57: opening credits

36:41-39:16: Max is seen chained to a wall, naked. It is implied she has been raped by Vane’s crew. When he finds out Eleanor chose profit over Max, he tells Jack to put her on a boat

43:41-49:58: Eleanor has sex with Vane as Jack takes Max away. The crew surround her and rape her. In response, Eleanor says she’s cutting Vane’s crew off entirely, unless they join Flint, which most do, leaving Vane, Anne, Jack, and a small number of other pirates still loyal to him. Max says she blames Eleanor for this more than Vane and goes to Vane’s remaining crew saying she’s theirs until her debt is paid

51:42-53:54: this scene intercuts between a framing scene and several other characters. One of the characters cut to is Max (52:58-53:08), who is naked in bed next to a sleeping man, it seems this is a continuation of the earlier events

Summary:

Flint wakes up and wonders into the kitchen. Mrs Barlow spots that he’s dripping blood and changes his bandages, saying he should have told her last night. As she tells him that Pastor Lambrick is keeping an eye on her, Flint tells her he found the ship with the schedule, and calls her by her first name, Miranda

Silver is writing out the schedule, supervised by Billy & Eleanor. Mr Scott calls Eleanor outside to tell her Max has gone, and the boat she had waiting for her has left. She says that Max chose it, not her, and returns to Silver, cross, telling him that he’d better be worth it

Miranda seems preoccupied and Flint gives her a book from Parish’s cabin, saying he hoped she’d like it. She says she’d started to think it was a lost cause and, though she isn’t disappointed, she’d hoped to have him all to herself. At that moment Gates pulls up outside with Richard Guthrie lying, still unconscious, in the back of the cart under the sheet, and Flint says he needs a favour

The Ranger’s crew confront Jack about losing the 5000 pesos. He says he’s disappointed too, but they’re welcome to elect a new quartermaster if they don’t think he’s valuable to the crew any more. They don’t comment on this, but tell him to make it right, and quickly. Anne & Vane are watching

Silver finishes transcribing the schedule, but Flint spots that it still isn’t complete. There should be a stop in Florida to take on water, where the Urca will be most vulnerable to attack, but Silver’s schedule stops miles short of the coast. Silver points out that they’d probably kill him if he did give them it all, and that they will have to take him with them, he’ll forgo payment for the schedule in exchange for a share of the prize. Flint points out he stood kill him once they have the gold, but Silver says that’s a few weeks away and, by then, they might be friends

Billy shakes his head, but Flint accepts this, after confirming with Eleanor. He says they’ll need extra powder & shot, as well as at least a dozen new 12lb guns, as well as a second ship as consort, which Eleanor agrees to

Gates takes Billy outside, where Billy points out how dangerous Silver could be onboard, as he knows Singleton wasn’t a thief and, just one day from a mutiny, the resentment won’t have just disappeared no matter how much gold they’re promised. Silver might say something to the wrong person, and set things off.

Billy takes Silver to Randall, and tells him that, after losing a wager, Silver has to spend all day helping Randall peel potatoes, and asks Randall to keep an eye on him, and yell if he wanders off. As Billy leaves, Randall screams, before saying that that’s what he’ll do if Silver leaves

Mr Scott asks Eleanor how she could promise Flint the guns, when he’s not seen even a pair of 12lbers on the island for months. She says Captain Bryson (of the Andromache) will be back in two days, and he’s always used 12lbers. Scott points out that they’re Bryson’s guns, and he won’t want to part with them, and that the Andromache is likely the last of her father’s ships that will arrive, as the others will all have heard of her father’s arrest (whilst the Andromache was already en route when it happened), and so they’ll have an empty warehouse in less than four weeks. Eleanor says her father will have to help them

Silver asks Randall why he doesn’t like him, and it seems that Randall feels like he’s being made useless by them getting a new cook. Silver then says that he’s still trying to understand how things work, that Singleton seemed to make a lot of sense, but now he’s dead, and Flint remains, those grievances seem to have been forgotten, and asks if Randall knows anyone who still holds a grudge against Flint. Randall stops peeling, and says he isn’t meant to talk about that

Back at the cottage, Richard Guthrie is woken up by Eleanor. He sees that he is being guarded, on Flint’s orders, to make sure he doesn’t interfere. She asks for his help, saying they need a new partner with legitimacy, that they can trust, and who won’t cross them, but he just turns away silently

“who the fuck are you kidding?

It’s help me, or flee to Boston. Beg your father, and brothers for sanctuary.

Oh they might save you from the gallows, but they won’t spare you their scorn. You’ll be right back in the parlour room, listening through a crack in the door to where the real business is being done, back to where you started, before you brought mother and myself here, and we made you into the man that you always insisted to them that you were.

Think on that, whilst you sit there and pretend that helping me isn’t the only choice you have.”

Against Gates’ advice, Billy is asking around the crew about anyone still angry at the captain. We meet Joji (below right), a Japanese pirate whose katana is being sharpened at that moment, and who, after being given back his sword inspects the blade, before silently returning it to the pirate with the whetstone

We see the two pirates who maintained Singleton’s innocence meet up, and note that Billy’s been asking round. The older one, Mr Morley (below left), says Flint doesn’t know, and won’t find out, which the younger one, Mr Turk (below right), takes as an indication that he’s giving up. Silver sits down the Mr Turk to play dice as he returns to his seat, saying he’s been speaking to Randall about suspicions about the captain, and that he thinks they might have that in common

Gates walks from the beach to the fort, and is introduced by a man named Philip. We meet Captain Benjamin Hornigold (below left) of the Royal Lion, an older pirate, Jacobite, and steward of the fort, smoking on a chair. Gates previously served under Hornigold, and the two banter, as Gates threatens to throw him and his chair off the fort into the sea if he has to climb those stairs again

“Philip, do you know the provenance of the chair in which I currently sit?

This chair once sat in the Plymouth office of one Sir Francis Drake. I took this chair from a prize off the coast of Boston. I lost six men in that fight.

Ever since then, this chair has resided here, atop my fort from which I survey the harbour that I protect for the good of an ungrateful island.

Philip, if Mr Gates should ever lay a hand on my chair, you have my permission to shoot him where he stands”

Gates says Flint wants Hornigold’s ship and crew, but not with Hornigold as consort. Instead he wants Gates to command it, as they understand each other well, and the crew trusts him.

“You assume too much, I’m not even certain my men trust me at this stage

The last I heard, James fled to France. They call him the pretender now.

I promised my men that if they stayed with me that they’d be soldiers again that they’d be part of a rebel navy, fighting a war to restore a rightful king.

But now - who knows what they’ll do.

They’re coming to terms with a very uncomfortable truth that no matter how many lies we tell ourselves, no matter how many stories we convince ourselves we’re part of, we’re all just thieves awaiting a noose”

Hornigold begrudgingly agrees, saying “that after fifteen years at sea, you’re the only man I’ve ever met that’s got dumber with age”

Guthrie wakes up and Miranda brings him some food and a book. When he asks who she is to Flint, she ignores him, saying the book is Marcus Aurelius, that he might find it helpful, and offers to discuss it once he’s finished it

Billy spots Silver leaning on a post, away from Randall. Silver points out Mr Turk, Randall, and Morley, saying he’s identified the remaining crew who still harbour resentment to the captain, in the hopes that earning Billy’s trust will keep him alive. We find out that Turk has been spreading rumours about Flint for years, that Randall isn’t surprising either, but that he had no idea about Morley

“Turk thinks Flint is undead. Walks the earth without a soul. He believes that there’s a witch who lives deep inside the island who controls his every move”

As Gates is looking over a chart in a tavern, Jack Rackham comes over, saying he’s come to offer his congratulations on Gates’ first command. Gates tells him to walk away, saying “I don’t know what you’re after Jack, but you sound like one desperate mother-fucker to me”, deducing that the Ranger’s crew have given Jack an ultimatum, and advising him to get on a boat away.

“It won’t take much for you to lose that new crew of yours. You may have the fooled now, but at sea?

Perhaps you’ll oversleep the bells and need to be roused.

Perhaps you’ll be had at the glass, and need help with where to point it.

Perhaps you’ll slip and fall and that knee of yours will finally give out.

Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps…

No-one will say anything of course, they respect you too much for that but the moment the Urca looms close and the first shot is fired in anger you know exactly what every last man in that crew will be thinking: Christ almighty, I wish we had a cap’n thirty years younger”

Gates seems taken aback and goes to Flint, interrupting him going over the accounts with Dufresne. He says they need a different captain - Charles Vane. Flint laughs at this, an gets angry when he realises Gates isn’t joking, saying that on top of the fact he certainly won’t even consider it, asks why Gates thinks Vane would even consider it

Jack goes to Vane to persuade him to follow the plan and gets told to fuck off. Vane says Jack is just digging a deeper hole for himself, but jack persuades him by pointing out that Eleanor would appreciate Vane supporting her plans

Jack, Vane, Eleanor, Flint, & Gates all meet to discuss terms. After some diplomatic niceties from Jack, Flint interrupts saying he wants an apology from the “cowardly fuck of a captain” who killed his man, and Gates takes him outside

“That was my fault.

Entirely my fault.

I should have been clearer when I prepared you for this meeting. When I said we would need to keep our tempers in check if we were going to make this meeting happen, I should have specified we’d need to do so for the duration of the meeting as well.

Not to worry, simple setback, now we have clarity and a unity of vision, I feel good”

Gates tries to keep the peace, but has to take Flint back outside to yell at him. Jack comments that “at this rate, the Urca will get to Cadiz and back again before we can resolve anything” and goes for a piss, leaving Eleanor & Vane alone, and he jokes

“Be honest, are you as surprised as I am that I’m the only one here behaving myself?”

They agree terms, but Jack says that as Eleanor has shown Flint favour in the past he wants her father as a more impartial guarantor of terms, but Vane overrules him, saying Eleanor’s word is good enough, and their hands linger together as they shake on it

Jack protests that he could have got better terms as they leave, and he puts on his bizarre (but historical!) sunglasses. We find out Vane has captured Max, as she left the brothel, and is being kept, naked and chained to a wall in a shack. It is implied Vane’s crew have been raping her. Vane talks to her, tries to justify his actions, and asks why she left the brothel even though she was being guarded and kept safe

“I’ve been meaning to ask you, our mutual… ‘friend’… she put guards at your door, tried to protect you, yet you left anyway, why?”

“You really have to ask? How did you feel when she threw you aside?”

Realising Eleanor chose profit over her, Vane tells Jack to put her on a boat after dark, and quietly

Richard Guthrie wakes up, sees Miranda setting out a tea set on her porch, and his guard asleep and starts poking around the cottage. Pastor Lambrick (below) shows up and Miranda invites him to join her for tea, saying he comes every Wednesday. He offers her his Easter sermon asking for her thoughts, it describes love through suffering as the truest form of love and, when he protests that this is God’s gospel truth, she quotes the song of songs as he looks bashful. She ends by saying “true love shouldn’t require suffering, and you don’t have to take my word for it”

Guthrie finds a portrait propped against a wall, one half covered. It is of a couple, and at the bottom is written “Mr & Mrs Thomas Hamilton”, the woman, who had been covered, is Miranda

Pastor Lambrick says he had an ulterior motive visiting, at which Miranda smiles coyly. He says that he’s heard rumours the English are coming and there will be judgement in this world for people on the island, but that his flock’s righteousness will be beyond doubt. Miranda says that it’s not quite that simple for her. He asks if “he” is keeping her there, before she bids him good day

Eleanor visits Vane, straddles him, and they have sex. Jack is leading Max away when he is confronted by the crew who stop him. Jack fetches Vane, and we hear Max scream, causing Eleanor to run out. Max is surrounded by Vane’s crew, being raped as a crowd gathers round. Eleanor grabs a stick and shoves the man off her

“Listen to me very carefully, you are all of you, this whole crew, as of right now, finished!

You will not sell anything, you will not buy anything, you will not eat anything, unless you decide right now to elect yourselves a new captain”

At this point Eleanor switches from rage, to a voice of authority and self-interest, and Flint & Gates appear

“Unless you decide to join the crew of Captain Flint. You will join his crew, and you will grant him disposal of his ship, so what will it be? Beggars under an old captain, or rich men under a new one?”

One by one, most of Vane’s crew move towards Flint, until Vane is left with Jack, Anne, and a few loyalists. Eleanor says she’s “so sorry he did this to you”, but Max says that Eleanor did this to her, not Vane and, rather than letting Eleanor take care of her, she goes to Vane’s remaining crew saying “my actions cost you your pearls. Until the debt is paid, I am yours”. Anne appears concerned, and Eleanor storms off

On the Walrus, Billy approaches Morley who asks if Billy is there to threaten him. He says he has a right to think what he thinks: that Singleton wasn’t a thief. Billy repeats the lie that he saw the stolen page and Morley says that he may be wrong about Singleton, but he isn’t about Flint, and that to him they’re all disposable. When Billy says he doesn’t believe that, Morley says that’s because he doesn’t know about Mrs Barlow

Guthrie is reading the book as Miranda walks in, and he says it is a remarkable book. She flicks to a chosen passage and, as she reads particularly appropriate lines, we cut to different characters

“How should you be?

You should be like a rocky promontory against which the restless surf continually pounds.

It stands fast while the churning sea is lulled to sleep at its feet.

I hear you say ‘how unlucky that this should happen to me’ but not at all, perhaps say instead ‘how lucky I am that I am not broken by what has happened, and am not afraid of what is about to happen’, for the same blow might have struck anyone, but not many who would have absorbed it without capitulation and complaint”

We see Eleanor & Mr Scott as she says “how unlucky that this should happen to me”, to Max, naked in bed next to a sleeping pirate as she says “how lucky I am am that I am not broken by what has happened”, to Billy & Morley talking as she says “and am not afraid of what is about to happen”, and to Silver watching them as she says “the same blow might have struck anyone” before cutting back to her

Flint opens the door, she leaves with him, going into another room, and he closes the door, leaving Guthrie alone in bed

#Black Sails #black sails content notes

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dibs4ever · 5 years

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The Next Generations view

My name is Nathan Wayne Grayson

My name has a meaning for it in all 3 pieces. Nathan after my maternal great grandfather, Wayne for my Adoptive Paternal grandfather and Grayson my dad's last name. I am the next generation of the legendary ”Flying Grayson’s”

The nickname the press has given me since I was an infant is ”The Prince Of Gotham” I despise my nickname, I don't want to be looked at like that. I just want to be looked at as a regular 14-year-old boy. I suppose the nickname spans from who my parents are Dick and Barbara Grayson-formally Gordon. The adoptive son of Bruce Wayne and the police commissioner daughter. As much as I’d like to be normal my life is anything but normal. Ignoring the fact of WHO my family is it’s WHAT we are that makes us abnormal. I am the protege to the Dark Night, the legendary Robin. I followed in my father’s and Uncles footsteps. I started my training at age 10 and officially became Robin at age 11. My abilities include acrobatics and extraneous computer skills plus all the other skills it takes to be accepted as a Bat.

Want a rundown of what makes up my family? Here it is,

Dick Grayson, my father AKA Nightwing. I don’t always patrol with Batman, I’ll occasionally patrol my hometown of Bludhaven with him. I love him and look up to him but people often compare me to him because of our resemblance and sometimes that makes for a lot of pressure. But I can't be all that much like him, from what I've been told my dad was quite the ladies man. I can't flirt worth anything, the only girls I can talk to I'm either rated to or are my friend. Otherwise, I turn into a klutzy, stuttering mess My dad is super overbearing though, he coddles my sister and me to no end. Mom says when my sister was a baby she arrived back from patrol one night to find him rocking her and singing ”I’ll be watching you” which isn't creepy at all (note the sarcasm). And he will randomly just hug me and kiss my cheeks, even when we’re being Robin and Nightwing.....I’m almost 15 that's gotta stop.

Barbara Grayson- My mother, we’re really close. I will secretly admit that I’m a “mamas boy” but I can’t help that we have a really great bond. Maybe it spans from the fact that for the first 8 weeks of my life it was just her and I. Long story short they thought my dad was dead but he was actually undercover and had no clue my mom was even pregnant. She thinks I’m innocent and her “precious baby boy” like I said, I’m almost 15 my parents gotta accept that I’m growing up. My mom used to be Batgirl then when I was 4 she was shot by the Joker and became paralyzed from the waist down which transitioned her to Oracle. When I was 10 she had a chip inserted on her spine that made her regain the use of her legs. She now alternates between going out as Batgirl and Oracle stuff but mainly does Oracle now.

Leah Grayson: My 10-year-old younger sister. She looks like my mom, red hair and all. She wants to become a vigilante but Dad’s against it. My mom seems to be on the fence though and if she decides it’s okay she’ll convince my dad to let her. She’s -spunky for lack of a better word. My dad says she reminds him of my Uncle Jason when he was young which might be why he doesn’t want her to be a vigilante. It also explains why she’s Uncle Jay’s favorite

Tim Drake, My Uncle Tim is the vigilante known as Red Robin, he’s cool and understands my love for tech, he's kinda over obsessed with everything. He likes to research everything to the max and is always prepared for the situation ahead of everyone else ,whatever it may be.

Stephanie Drake, AKA Spoiler. My sister is my Uncle Jason’s favorite and I’m my Aunt Steph’s favorite. For as long as I can remember she’s loved me. We have a good bond and she spoils me (no pun intended)

Juliet Drake- My baby cousin, she’s 1 and is my little princess. She has me wrapped around her little finger. She has dirty blonde hair and big blue eyes, I love spending time with her and can’t wait to see what she becomes.

Jason Todd AKA Red Hood, my Uncle Jason and I have a -I guess you would call it a normal relationship. We aren’t close but we aren’t .....not close. I know he’d kill someone if they ever messed with me in other words. He sure doe’s spoil my sister though, in his eyes she can do no wrong.

Cassandra Cain AKA Black Bat, Aunt Cass is cool cause she helps me sneak behind my parent's backs and get away with stuff. I should’ve mentioned my Uncle Jay does too occassionally.

Damian Wayne, AKA NightGoul Uncle Dami is....interesting. We’re only 13 years apart so he hates it when I call him “Uncle” even though he only refers to me as “Nephew” seriously I think he’s only ever called me by name a handful of times. I like to call him Uncle Damian just yo annoy him. Dad says he’s calmed down a lot since when he first met him. I can’t imagine how emotionless he used to be cause he’s pretty emotionless now. But he’s also one of the main ones who trained me to be Robin so I owe him that

Helena Wayne: AKA the new Huntress shes technically my aunt but she’s only 2 years older then me and I have never called her “aunt” she’s more of the older sibling I’ll never have but she’s fun and I’m sure as I get older we’ll have some good times.

Selina Kyle-Wayne, Aka Catwoman I called her Grandma once when I was 5 and she gave me a death glare that gave me nightmares for a week so I never did it again. We kinda do our own thing. She has started to socialize with me more now that I’m older.

Bruce Wayne, Aka Batman Everyone thinks he’s so tough but he’s not. Supposedly he’s completely different with me then he was with my dad and uncles. We’re close, how can we not be? He’s Batman and I’m Robin. He literally buys me anything I want so when I turn 16 it’s going to be epic.

Mark and Melanie West- They aren't family but they are my best friends. They’re twins and we’re the same age. We’re in 9th grade at Gotham Academy. Our dads (mainly my dad) like to call us the ‘Big 3’. Mark is an Archer he’s the protege to the Green Arrow. He’s my best friend and basically the brother I’ll never have, we literally share everything with each other and keep no secrets. Melanie inherited her fathers abilities and is a speedster she is the protege to The Flash. She’s one of my best friends too. We actually kissed a few months back. It wasn’t anything romantic, she did it more as a favor for me, it’s a long story and we swore never to speak of it-I kinda want to talk about it though.

So there you have it, a little run down of my crazy family from my perspective. I also have a load of ”honorary” Aunts and Uncles. Like Wally, Artemis, and Roy who has a daughter named Lian that is like an older cousin to me. There's also my dad's childhood friend Donna, my moms best friend Dinah my grandpa's ”frenemie” Uncle Clark. His son Jon is my Uncle Dami’s really good companion they go on alot of missions together. I could go on and on. It's probably not what most would consider a normal family buts its mine and I wouldn't have it any other way.

#dick grayson #barbara gordon #batfam au #batfam fanfiction #batfamily headcanons

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halcyonnhood · 5 years

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Sight and Sound [5sos fic] Ch.3

Note: unedited. Sorry for random n late updates. More to come.

Previous chapters: [one] [two]

Chapter Three

Eight days and four hours. It takes eight whole days to realize where I had recognized Ashton from. I had been looking at the photos hanging up and decorating some of the coffee tables when I realized the boys were in a band. 5 Seconds Of Summer, a name that would've been easily recognizable to 16 year old Tenley and not as relevant to 21 year old Tenley. My first reaction is to tell Diana, so as I explain my newfound discovery to her, she just smiles at me and nods. Either I'm just really oblivious to something or my own best friend is privy to knowledge I've yet to discover.

“Did you know?” I gasp at her.

“I mean, yeah, I still loved their music!” Diana then points at me, “Unlike you. You traitor”

“I haven't paid attention to them since sophomore year,” I huff. “You could've told me”

“Why would I tell you!?”

“Because you're my best fr-” I start my spiel, but she quickly interrupts me.

“I don't want them thinking we're psycho fangirls! They think we're oblivious and they just started trusting us. They'd kick us out.” She whispers. “They can't know.”

“A-” I groan as I'm interrupted yet again.

“We can't know what?”

Calum stands in the doorway with his eyes narrowed and focused on us. I just look at Diana with wide eyes, shocked and unsure of how to respond. To be fair, she is the one who said it and I thought all of the boys were in the basement playing video games or pool. She looks just as shocked, but knowing her she'll come up with some quick and witty response. Or not.

“Tenley,” Calum steps towards us “What can't we know?”

“It's a personal thing...I-” I trip over my words nervously. “It's nothing important”

“Sounds like you can tell me then,” He glares at me in a threatening manner.

“I really can't...That's why it's personal…”

“Then I guess I'll just have Ashton get it out of you” He shrugs nonchalantly “Just remember that this is my house.”

This is my house. The words echo through my mind for most of the day, keeping me on edge and nervous that he would actually kick us out. He didn't bother saying anything to me for the rest of the day, but whenever we're in the same room he just stares daggers into my soul. If dirty looks could kill, I would've been dead seven hours ago. In my mind it isn't that big of a deal that we know of them and their band, if we were gonna do anything horrible we would've already done it. Diana may be a hardcore fan, but I haven't given any attention to them since I was a teen. I didn't understand what the hype would be, we're in the middle of a fuckin apocalypse.

After the first night, I half expected Calum to be nicer to me. Ever since then he's done nothing but send me suspicious glances and follow me around when he thinks I'm not paying attention. It makes me wonder if the whole scenario was a dream, he went to sleep on the couch beside my own and when I woke up again in the early morning he was missing. Apparently he can only be nice one time, then it's just an angry atmosphere every other day. The other boys are kind and inviting, why can't he be the same? It's just disappointing that I can't see the good guy that Ashton claims is somewhere buried deep down. It became apparent that indeed, I won't see that anytime soon. So I just stay in the guest room and read whatever books Calum has available in his house, which is currently one full of poems.

“I see you and Calum are still clashing,” Ashton comments after entering the guest room.

“Calum is doing all the clashing,” I reply, not bothering to look up from my book. “He can't just be an ass and expect me to be polite,”

“All you had to do was answer his question,” He tells me softly.

“Does he not understand what the word ‘personal’ means?”

“He heard Diana say you couldn't tell us. What are you hiding that's so horrible?”

“NOTHING, ASH.” I raise my voice as I look up at him. “You guys hide stuff from me, am I supposed to pretend I don't see you whispering when I'm in the same room?”

“Don't be like that, you know we tell you everything!” Ashton defends harshly.

“Looks like we're both liars then,” I hiss. Ashton just stares at me with his mouth agape and a slightly hurt look on his face. “I told her I wouldn't say anything, so I'm not.”

“It can't be that bad. Just tell me, I won't tell Calum. We just want to know if any of us should be concerned,” Ashton sits on the edge of my bed carefully.

“We know who you guys are,” I look away from him. “I saw some pictures and put together that you were familiar because of your band. I went to tell Diana, but she already knew because she's still a big fan...I di-”

“That's it?” He laughs loudly. “A big fuss over knowing 5sos?”

“I-I” I'm cut off again when he uses two fingers to turn my chin towards him. I try to look away again before he can see the tears brewing in my eyes, but his expression softens and he tightens the grip to keep me facing him.

“Ten, why are you crying?” Ashton questions with a slight frown.

“I'm scared, Ash” I wipe away the tears hastily before continuing, “I'm scared that Calum will fucking make us leave just because he thinks we're crazy fangirls or something. I'm scared because I've always had my brother to help me through things. Diana is the only person I have left and I don't want us to die yet,”

“This may be Calums house, but I would never let him do that to you. You can trust us. Even when we're being total dicks” He tells me with a reassuring smile. Then he pulls me into his chest, a steady hand rubbing my shoulders in a soothing way. “I promise we won't ever hurt you,”

/ / /

Thirteen days and six hours. The dreaded day has arrived and faster than any of us had expected. We ran out of food yesterday at breakfast, even after we had rationed and planned for another weeks worth. Luke blamed Michael for sneaking snacks, Michael claims it was Ashton, and Calum just tells everyone to shut up. I just sit silently next to Diana and Michael wondering how the hell they'd solve this problem. We can't just drive to a store without sacrificing someone for their eyesight. It doesn't matter what plan I come up with...Someone dies in each one.

“There's a store one block away.” Calum tells us. “We will blindfold ourselves and a couple of us will walk there,”

“That's literally walking into our own deaths, Cal” Michael shakes his head dramatically. “I'm not down for that,”

“The longer we sit here doing nothing will only make it worse. Starving will make us die too.” He retorts with a raised eyebrow.

“I just think it's too much of a risk,” Michael mumbles. “This thing...It will do anything to kill us”

“But it can't unless we look at it,” Ashton glances at Michael quickly. “Calum's right. As long as we have blindfolds we can make it there and back.”

“Who's all going?” Diana finally asks, her blue eyes darting around nervously. I can tell she's hoping to stay with Michael.

“I am” Calum tells her. “I think Ash should stay, we need someone level headed to go and one to stay. Ash will keep this place safe and guarded while I'm gone,”

“I'll go with you,” I tell Calum. I may dislike him right now, but I won’t go as low as letting him walk into danger all alone.

“Me too,” Luke glances at me quickly with a small nod.

“Good, I'll go find us some bandanas. Luke gather up some bags.”

I'm going to die. That's the only thought cycling through my mind. The plan works in theory, but no one knows how this demon creature truly works. For all we know, the blindfolds could be pointless and we'll off ourselves just from being outside with it again. Diana and Michael's terrified expressions do not do anything to calm my nerves, it just stresses me out more each second that I spend waiting for the boys. I can hear Luke rummaging through the rooms upstairs and the squeak of Calums shoes from the staircase, all while Ashton just tries to give me another soft smile before I look away. It doesn’t matter how hard I attempt to block out the negative thoughts, there's always one wedged somewhere in the depths of my mind. I’m going to die. We’re all going to die. Doing this is pointless, we’ll never make it out alive. We can never leave this house again. It just seems futile when we’re all going to die soon enough. The thought is almost enough to make me wish I had died too, then I wouldn’t feel so terrified and alone. My mind is rendered temporarily silent when Calum places three purple bandanas on my lap, startling me out of my horrendous daydreaming.

“Empty your pockets,” Calum tells me “Make sure you don’t take anything sharp or potentially dangerous.”

“Tenley wouldn’t hurt you guys,” Diana glares at him defensively. I just casually place everything from my pockets onto the side table, including the sharp nail file I had been using earlier today. I know his intentions for the request and I don't mind it.

“I’m not worried about her hurting me,” He snaps back. “She can try to hurt us all she wants, it’s so she doesn’t stab herself in the jugular or something.”

“It’ll just make us all a little less on edge,” Luke adds as he places a duffle bag beside me. “We already checked our stuff.”

“Good point,” Diana just mumbles with an embarrassed expression.

“I’m guessing that’s why you’re using three blindfolds each too,” Michael eyes the blue cloth in Calum's hands. “Extra protection.”

“We’re going to use two and keep the third in our bags.” He nods. “Just in case,”

“How long do you think it'll take you guys?”

“An hour and a half at most,”

“And what if it takes longer?”

“Then stop waiting for us” I tell Michael, his blue eyes widening. “If we don't come back tonight, then don't spend your life expecting to see us again”

“What she said,” Calum nods in agreement.

For the first time, he gives me a smile before moving to tie the cloth around his head. Ashton helps me tie both of mine tightly over my eyes and behind my head. I blink testing to see if I can see or if any light bleeds through, but I'm met by nothing but darkness and I let out a sigh I didn't realize I had been holding in. Luke finishes getting ready, we grab our bags, and Ashton leads us towards the door. Queue the emotional goodbyes and hugs as if we're leaving for world war three. Close enough. Diana grabs me and pulls me close, I can tell from her long hair and fruity scent, since she insists on still using perfume she had kept in her purse. Ashton is next, his strong arms wrapped tightly around me and his soothing voice whispering that I'd be okay. Comforting as usual. Then it all happens too fast, Ashton telling everyone to close their eyes, the door opening, then the three of us are outside and on our own. Now we're walking in the dead silence.

“Stop,” Calum calls out. “We're at the light, we need to go right,”

“We're almost there then, right?” Luke questions.

“It's close. I just have to feel for the sliding doors.” He tells us softly. “Be careful. Just listen to our surroundings, okay?”

We listen to the sound of Calum's hand sliding against the different textures of the buildings, brick, stone, glass. The sound of our shoes scuffing against the cement. Then once he finds the sliding doors, I can tell that he's trying to break the lock and the nerves forming in the pit of my stomach are climbing up through my throat making it hard to concentrate on anything other than the fact that we're going to die out here. Then the world stops turning, my lungs stop breathing, my heart stops beating.

“It's going to be okay, Tenley.” Matthias’ voice calls from beyond the darkness of my blindfold. “Let me help you”

“Matt?” I gasp.

“Ten, who are you talking to?” Luke's sounds confused and lost.

“Ten, I promise I can help” This time the voice belongs to Ashton. Hearing both voices leaves me soothed and I instantly take a step towards the sound of Ashton's voice. “Just open your eyes so you can follow me,”

“Calum said not to open my eyes,”

“Don't open your eyes, Ten” Calum warns in a harsh voice.

“I'm going to die if you don't help me, please help”

“Ashton, I can't…”

“Tenley, listen” I feel Calum's warm hands on my shoulders, the force making my body sway slightly. “Matthias isn't here, he's dead. Ashton isn't here either, he's waiting for you to come home okay?”

“But he said he was gonna help..” I let out a frustrated huff “Now he's going to die since I'm not helping him”

“He's safe, he is. The demon things, they're trying to trick us. We got the door open and we'll be safe inside, c'mon” He pulls me along with him and then I hear the click of the doors being pushed together behind me.

“Cal are you sure it's safe to take off the blindfolds?” Luke now questions the boy.

“The store was owned by this old lady named Mary, she watched the news and got paranoid and taped cardboard everywhere so the customers would be safer,” He informs us.

“How could you even know that?”

“Mary liked me, we talked after I would checkout. I'm also looking at it right now and I'm not dead yet,” Calum just chuckles slightly.

After a minute or two of me trying to undo Ashton's knot in the blindfold, I feel Calums own hands nudge mine aside before he goes about untangling it. His breath fans across the back of my neck and I huff in frustration, just wanting to get this over and done with. It doesn't matter what the boys say, the voices sounded so real. It has me on edge knowing how these creatures can manipulate voices and use them for evil. Hearing Matthias’ voice again is enough to driven me mad. It's always a game of pushing away bad thoughts, but I have no other option when Calum pulls off the bandana and leaves me blinking to adjust to the lights. The store is perfectly intact and exactly how it had been before this apocalyptic bullshit.

“Remember, canned goods and anything that will be useful once the power goes out.” Calum tells us. “I'm thinking that we also just fill up a cart and take it with us. We would be good for ages with the bags and a cart.”

I fill the bag with with an assortment of canned food, anything from spaghettiOs, vegetables, and a decent amount of fruit. I even stuff a small bag of sour patch kids in the side pocket for Ashton and small sweets for all of us. It may not follow Calums requests, but if we're going to die soon we get to savor a treat. I find the two of them in the drink aisle, with Luke arguing that he really wanted some Mountain Dew and Calum saying that it would waste space. I just shrug at Luke and wait for them to turn around, then I shove a couple cans into my bag. I'm chilling by the front doors when Calum finally talks to me.

“Are you okay, Ten?” His once intense eyes are now softer as he questions me.

“I'm fine,” I tell him with a small smile. “Just gathering necessities.”

“You heard your brother and Ashton?”

“Yeah. It's a good ploy, I guess. I didn't know it was possible.” I admit while looking away from him. The neon “food” sign, the linoleum tiles, Luke eating cheetos a couple aisles away. Anything to avoid that gaze.

“I didn't either, I'm sorry you had to be the first to experience that. It can't be easy.” he pauses for a moment, “But I did find something for you since you like reading so much,”

Calum now holds three books in his hands with a smile. I graciously take them from him and look at the covers to see if I know the titles or authors. The gesture is far more than I ever expected out of this man, yet here he is handing me books just because he knows I enjoy reading.

“Thank you so much, Cal” I beam at him.

“It's not a problem” Calum nods.

Maybe spending the end of the world with these guys won't be so bad.

Tags: @bodaciousidiot @nicholerodz @filleinterrupted @5sos-luna @woahthereangela @aspiringwildfire [if anyone wants added or removed, just ask]

#5sos #5 seconds of summer #calum hood #ashton irwin #luke hemmings #michael clifford #5sos fanfiction #ashton irwin fanfiction #luke hemmings fanfiction #michael clifford fanfiction #calum hood fanfic #5 seconds of summer fanfiction #5sos blurbs #5sos imagines #luke hemmings imagine #ashton irwin imagine #michael clifford imagine #calum hood imagine

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disrepairhouse · 5 years

Text

Chapter 16 - Art Museum

Itara let out a long, exasperated sigh as Sparky unlocked their hotel room and let the three of them in. The room was decently sized, with two queen-sized beds, a bathroom, small closet, and sitting area with a couch, lounge chair, and coffee table. Across the couch against the far wall was a much nicer, larger TV than Itara had been expecting with a mini-fridge fitted into part of the stand with a number of snacks and drinks pre-packed into it. There was plenty of space for movement and while Itara went about exploring where they’d be staying for the next few days—including the snacks—Sceira walked around, doing the same by feeling out corners with her long, piggy-tailed pincers. Metal, on the other hand, scanned the room and checked the location of the sockets, wondering how well a hotel system would handle his charging needs. Knowing they would be amongst a number of mortals in tightly packed areas, he hadn’t exactly been able to bring a full charging station for the four-day trip.

Itara had dropped all her bags by the door, only bothering to toss her backpack on the nearest bed, but Sceira placed hers carefully inside the door of the closet. Once she had the snacks properly investigated, and realized the hotel would charge extra if she touched them, Itara flopped herself onto the bed she had chosen and stared up at the ceiling. At least the hotel was nice and the beds were comfy, and the TV was big, but the idea of having to share all of it with Sceira of all people heavily degraded its worth.

While she was mulling it over, Sceira had completed her rundown of the room and continued over to the beds… sitting beside Itara, much to her dismay. Glaring up over at the other girl, Itara hissed, “go sit on your own bed, this one’s mine.”

“There are only two beds, Itara,” the pseudo-scorpion commented, as if that was supposed to explain her decision.

“And?”

Sceira turned towards her now, less for the purpose of making eye contact and more so Itara could see the look of disbelief on her face. “There are three of us and two beds, it makes more sense for us to share a bed, seeing as we’re smaller. Unless you’d… rather share one with your… guardian?”

Itara sat up, looking between Sceira and Sparky, who had taken to a window to inspect their surroundings further. He looked back towards them with an eyebrow rose, but said nothing. Itara shook her head, facing Sceira again, “Sparky doesn’t sleep on beds,” waving the thought away, she continued, “He can have the couch or something. He spends most his time on the couch at home, anyway.”

“But…”

“What makes you think I don’t want one of the beds?” Metal grinned, turning just enough to side-eye Itara, who glowered. He didn’t actually have any interest in their sleeping quarters, he’d already decided the chair was closest to an outlet and would be the most inconspicuous way to charge during the nights, but he also greatly enjoyed making Itara’s life more difficult than it needed to be. Especially since it was her fault he was there in the first place.

“Because you never sleep… on a bed!” Itara exclaimed, frustrated.

Metal turned around fully and grinned, shrugging and looking off, “well, this is supposed to be a vacation, isn’t it?” He only opened one eye to see the look on her face, which was exactly as flustered as he’d hoped. He knew he had her cornered.

Itara’s cheeks puffed up and her face reddened, stammering for a moment. Getting a calm look back, she reached over, pushing Sceira away from her. “Fine. Then Sceira can sleep on the couch. I claim this bed and I refuse to share.”

“Hey!”

Metal snorted and turned back towards the window, “I’ll leave that between the two of you, then.”

Sceira jumped to her feet and scowled at Itara, who crossed her arms and looked away stubbornly. “I am not sleeping on the couch, Itara! The bed is plenty big enough for both of us! You’re barely even bigger than one of the pillows!”

Once again, Itara’s face flushed up. Sure, the beds were built human-sized, since the hotel got both human and mobian visitors, meaning any mobian visitor had plenty of space and could easily fit several onto one bed. The ones in their room could likely even fit three or four humans, depending on their size, but even so Itara was still sensitive about her size and took it as a slight rather than an observation. “I’ll show you ‘bigger than a pillow’ when I suffocate you with one!”

“That doesn’t even make sense,” Sceira scoffed, “besides, you can’t. Not only would that cause you plenty of trouble, but I’m more than certain I’m stronger than you. You don’t need to see to know of your many blunders in PE.”

“THAT’S IT!” With no more words, Itara dove from the bed and jumped for Sceira. She knew full well that she had no physical strength to speak of, she was clumsy and incredibly easy to knock around, but it mattered little to her at the moment as both she and Sceira hit the ground. She went for the other girl’s throat first, but Sceira grabbed her wrists before she could get far and held her back long enough to knock her off to the side.

While the two wrestled it out on the ground, Metal simply glanced back and out the window, debating to himself if he should break the fight up. He was supposed to be some sort of chaperone to an entire group of the small children, letting a fight break out almost immediately upon arrival at their destination might look bad on him. Then again, he didn’t exactly volunteer for this in the first place and it was no concern to him whether Itara and her little mortal friends fought. Maybe if she came back with some kind of injury it would teach RK a lesson about putting him in charge of the brat. Again.

Then again, the possessed doll’s description of a ‘momma bear’ was an accurate enough one for RK regarding the tiny hedgehog and mobians had a tendency to do far more damage during fights than most humans. Even at younger ages. He’d learned that quickly enough dealing with Tails. If she came home with injuries, lesson as it may be, it’d also get him hit. He had no problem with a fight, for the most part, he was built to destroy and a good fight sounded like the exact kind of stress relief he needed right now… but not a fight with RK. Soft as RK had gotten over the years, his fist hadn’t and he’d already been punched twice now since his reactivation. He didn’t necessarily want to make it a third so soon. Sighing in annoyance, he turned back around, finding one of the scorpion’s pigtails wrapped tightly around the little hedgehog’s neck and almost smirked.

“Alright, alright, that’s enough, you two,” he sighed, walking over and picking them both up by the backs of their shirts, shaking the pigtail loose and watching Itara gasp for breath. “As much as I enjoy a good fight, now isn’t the time.” Sceira cooled down the quickest and quickly apologized, prompting Metal to put her back down first, but Itara only got angrier once her breath returned. Holding her up further, he raised an eyebrow, “you just enjoy getting choked out, don’t you?”

“P-Put me d-down, Sparky!” she hissed, coughing afterwards.

“And what if I don’t feel like it?” She growled in response, but Metal walked over and set her down on the bed. “We’re supposed to be taking off again soon so both of you need to calm down. Go… wash off or… something.” Sceira nodded quietly and walked off to the bathroom, but Itara crossed her arms and looked away. Once the bathroom door shut, Metal just grinned and leaned over, lowering his voice, “You ought to learn to actually fight before you start things you can’t finish.”

“Sh-shut up.”

Metal shrugged, readying himself to face the insanity of the rest of the third graders again while waiting for the two children to finish getting ready, themselves. No further words were spoken between the two of them, Metal only commanding them to follow once Sceira returned from the bathroom and they were ready to go. He wasn’t exactly ecstatic about the idea of leading a bunch of third graders around Gaia’s domain, either, but perhaps he could learn something about the current state of the world while they were out.

The three headed back down to the hotel lobby where most the other students were already standing around waiting, chatting amongst themselves, while the chaperones for each group hovered nearby. Camilla was standing further away from her group, talking with her mother, neither seeming all that pleased, either, but Itara paid it no mind. Instead, she decided to take another look at the stack of papers to find out which group was theirs. There were two clusters of children without obvious chaperones, since not everyone was back in the lobby yet, but she pointed them out soon enough and Metal lurked reluctantly near them. Itara and Sceira continued all the way to the rest of the group, but Metal remained at a distance.

Once everyone was gathered again, the head teacher got everyone’s attention, went over the schedule for the rest of the day, and explained how they were getting from each place. The first stop was the major art museum, a short bus ride further into the city, then from there they would be walking to a nearby park for lunch, and then another short walk to a shopping center for a ‘cultural scavenger hunt’, led by the chaperones. Itara was most distraught over the idea of walking for long periods, for a number of reasons, but she hadn’t missed the look of utter disinterest on Metal’s face when the scavenger hunt was brought up. She wanted to laugh at him, but knew it’d come back on her all too easily without RK around.

The kids who had taken the bus down packed back into it, while the kids who had taken the cars went back to them once they were given another set of directions for their drivers. Itara and Metal wasted less time getting onto the bus this time to avoid the dead center again. Not that they could avoid being surrounded altogether, but at least they could sit towards the front so it was a quick and easy on and off. Itara debated whether she wanted to sit by Metal again, but realized easily enough that there weren’t many other options and plopped down beside him with a disgruntled huff.

“Get on the inside,” he demanded, eyeing her. He refused to be locked in any more than he already would be.

“Well then why did you sit down first?” Itara huffed back, crawling over him to the inside of the seat and shuffling out of her backpack.

“Because I originally intended to sit here alone.”

“Yeah, well, it’s either you or some other classmate I don’t care about since there aren’t enough seats for both of us to sit alone.”

“That’s hardly my concern.”

“It is now.”

There was a moment of silence as they eyed one another before they both turned away in disgust. Itara shuffled around in the seat to get comfortable again, opening her backpack to pull Kipper out, who was still stuffed into the main pocket, and wrapped him up tightly in her arms as she pulled her legs up to her chest. Admittedly, she had been expecting the doll to cause some kind of problem by now, since he never stayed this quiet for this long even when she was at school, but she was at least grateful for it. Then again…

Tilting her head to the side to look the doll in the eyes, she glanced around, waiting for the bus to get loud with chatter before whispering, “Wanna help me get back at Sceira?”

The red gem on the doll’s head lit up and the dead felt eyes came briefly to life, before returning back to their doll-like state, though the gem remained glowing. He was listening. Glancing up at Metal, she shuffled closer to the window and curled in on herself more, whispering her ideas into the little doll’s cotton-stuffed ears, watching one of them twitch in response, and smiling when she got a confirmation nod. If she couldn’t fight Sceira directly, then she would just fight indirectly. It’s what she did best, after all.

The drive over to the museum was much shorter than the drive from Soleanna, even with the heavier traffic, making some of the mobian children question why they couldn’t just run or fly over. Even Metal scoffed that it would have taken him less time to run to the museum than it took the bus to even get started, but Itara shook her head, pulling her backpack back on while keeping Kipper in her arms. As someone less… stable than other mobians, she, like most her human classmates, preferred the ride over. Metal, however, once again wasted no time getting off the bus once the doors were open. He was out and waiting on the sidewalk before even Itara realized he’d left. She couldn’t wait to see him have to keep pace with a bunch of tiny third-grader legs for the scavenger hunt.

With the same awe and confusion, the rest of the kids filed out of the bus, watching the antsy blue hedgehog as they did, some of them quietly whispering amongst themselves about topics Itara hoped to High Hell he couldn’t hear. As entertaining as it would be to watch him go ballistic on her classmates, they didn’t need a short end to this trip right now. Not yet. Shuffling quietly over to him, the rest of their group following before long, the teacher once again announced the plans for the museum in further depth. They were to be quiet, courteous, and fill out a worksheet about specific works of art while they were there. Each group’s packets were different, with focuses on different pieces, that they would then be creating a small presentation for the other groups and the museum patrons, something the school had worked out with the curators before the trip.

Itara silently raged at the idea. She hated presentations. She hated group projects even more. Looking around at her group, she scowled off to the side, hoping she could convince them to maybe not force her to talk during whatever presentation they would be doing. It was embarrassing enough dealing with her stutter in front of her classmates, to embarrass herself in front of an entire museum of strangers sounded horrifying. She wanted nothing to do with it.

With the packets handed out, the teacher dismissed all the groups and the droves of small children entered the museum, in their somewhat separate groups, to find the answers to their packets. They had two hours to get it all together, then they were supposed to meet back up in the museum’s main lobby. Itara scanned the questions as they walked, Metal Sonic staying as far from any one person as he could manage without escaping altogether. Quickening her pace to catch back up with him, she reached up and pulled on his sleeve to get his attention.

“What.” He sounded as frustrated as he looked.

Itara held the packet up to him, “You know these… you can just- look all this up, can’t you?”

He looked down at the packet with an eyebrow rose, scanning the questions before looking up again, scoffing, “of course I can. But I won’t.”

“Why not? The faster we get these answered, the sooner we can escape elsewhere until the presentation.”

“Because, dear little hedgehog,” Metal smirked down at her with a narrowed eye, “what would you learn if I just gave you the answers?”

Itara frowned, narrowing her eyes back, “Like any of this matters to me in the first place. None of this is related to Gaia.”

“I’m fairly certain I saw a question on there about a painting of Gaia.”

“I already know full well what both Dark and Light Gaia look like, a painting of him is of no interest to me!”

“Shh, don’t yell in a museum.” He was having too much fun mocking her and she was going to get him back for it. Huffing angrily, she looked away from him, following silently as they continued their way through the museum. One of the other kids in her group went to grab a map for them so they could figure out where each of their works should be located and Itara decided to point out the quickest route through to hit them all and circle back.

While they walked, they crossed paths with other groups often enough, sometimes ending up going the same way for a little while, causing the groups to merge. Itara continued to remain on the outskirts of all of them, only listening in or searching out the answers for the packet and having no interest otherwise in the conversations going on. However, during one of the merges, it ended up being Sceira’s original group, with Susan and Camilla, that they ended up on the same path as. Itara had even less interest in everything happening than she had before. Sceira and Camilla, of course, grouped back up and chatted about what they’d found so far, while Susan walked far behind them all, her signature look of patronizing disinterest never leaving her face.

The group stopped in front of a large painting of a green and purple, shadowy figure floating and watching over a corner of the earth from space. The figure, itself, was vague in shape, several times larger than the earth and almost snake or worm-like in its perceived motion. The title of the piece was ‘Life and Destruction’, and there was a small description in the museum guide book about it being theorized that it was some kind of Ancient God, though it had never been confirmed which one. The other children had a discussion amongst themselves about it, since their packet questions asked for their own opinions on the matter, but Itara once again remained out of it. She knew who it was.

It wasn’t uncommon for the Ancient Gods to give life as often as they destroyed it, Chaos only went rampant because the Chao were attacked, even Solaris only held a grudge because his power was tainted by humans. But between the title, the colors, and the familiar purple-glowing tendrils floating around the head of the figure, Itara knew it was Dark Gaia, specifically. Gaia was said to be in a constant back and forth with itself, split into Light and Dark, Creation and Destruction. Dark Gaia awakened only once every thousand years to destroy what Light Gaia had created, then go back to sleep and let the cycle continue.

She had seen the previous iteration of that cycle once. Dark Gaia had an extremely recognizable figure when you’ve seen it in person, even for an uncertain, vague painting. Maybe she should explain this to her group, ensure that they had the right answer, at least. If she was going to be involved with some kind of presentation of information, she could at least make sure they had the right answers. She knew nothing about art, but she could at least explain some of the history in them, if it came up.

While she walked over to the group to correct their incorrect assumptions about the Ancient God in question, Susan inched towards Metal, who was doing his own research towards the back of the room. She’d been watching them all with a sharp eye and, after listening to Itara’s apparent certainty regarding the painting, felt the need to investigate. As she approached, Metal’s proximity meter alerted him to her presence and he minimized the window he’d been looking at and turned a bored eye to the human woman. RK had warned him about this one, she seemed to be suspicious of them, unlike Lynda. Well, or so RK said. Metal wasn’t entirely convinced their nosy neighbor wasn’t equally suspicious, he would watch what he said around either.

“You’re Itara’s… guardian, correct?” There was a certain spitefulness in her voice that put Metal on guard with her. It was entirely unlike Lynda’s, who just appeared to be nosy, instead she sounded exactly as suspicious as Metal thought them all to be.

“I suppose that’s what I’ve become for this trip,” he responded with equal levels of disdain, hoping to prove he didn’t fear her prodding the way the others might. He wouldn’t give away their true natures, of course, but it took more than a nosy human to put him on edge.

“You were at the New Year’s Party, as well, were you not?”

“Briefly.” RK wasn’t particularly happy with him after that event. Not that it mattered.

“So what is Itara to you, then? You don’t sound overly pleased about being called her guardian.”

Metal glanced over, studying the look on her face and the tone of her voice. There was no doubt about it, she was digging. She was looking for something specific. He couldn’t determine what just yet, but he recognized the tone easily enough. It wasn’t unlike the Doctor’s at some points, making him quite disinterested in talking further with such people. He’d had enough of them. He was too busy trying to drag Itara’s plots out to deal with the humans.

“I don’t believe that’s any of your business. Now, don’t you think you should get back to your children? They seem to be taking off,” he motioned towards the group that had joined them as they continued towards another hallway while his own remained stationary in front of the painting. Susan eyed him coldly, but said nothing and followed after them, disappearing beyond the door soon enough. Metal gave a short mental nod of affirmation, but shook it away when Itara approached him.

“We’re just about done with our packets, Sparky. We just have one more statue to find and we can head off to the lobby, how much time do we have left?”

“Mm, thirty-two minutes,” Metal glared down at her afterwards, “I’m getting tired of this nickname you’ve given me, as well.”

“What, you want me to call you by your full name? Here? Amongst people?” Itara hissed, lowering her voice and glancing back towards the rest of the group, mostly wary of Sceira. Metal frowned, debating it.

“Then why doesn’t RK have a ridiculous nickname?”

“Because he’s been inactive for decades and RK already technically is a nickname. Robo-Knux isn’t exactly his built-in name, after all. Not that this is the place for this discussion.” She turned around towards the hallway they needed to continue in, shrugging and tossing over her shoulder, “you’re just gonna hafta deal with it for now, Sparks.” Though, with her head turned over her shoulder and her eyes closed, it barely took the length of that final sentence before she tripped over her shoes and plummeted face-first into the tile ground. Much to Metal’s amusement.

“Perhaps you’re right. Some nicknames are worth it,” he grinned, getting a scowl from the little hedgehog as she pushed herself back up. “Left-foot.”

“D-Don’t you dare!”

“Don’t I dare… what?” Metal’s grin only widened as her face reddened in frustration, “Come on, you had packets to finish, didn’t you? Best get on our way.” He led the way back out of the room, leaving Itara to mumble and pout her way out. If she was going to give him embarrassing nicknames that he had no choice but to go by for now, then he would return the favor. She gave him plenty opportunities to exploit it, after all. Now that he thought about it, Mephiles wasn’t exactly all that graceful on his feet when he had to actually walk, either. Perhaps there was a reason the half-God was always floating in that black mist of his.

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madaboutmerlin · 6 years

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Merlin Writer Month: Round up

Hello Merlin fans! We hope you’ve all had a fabulous week and that you found new authors to enjoy.

We wanted to let you know that we’ll be posting a compilation of all your recommendations every sunday so, please, if you uploaded something remember to use the hashtag: #MerlinWritterMonth2018; so that we may include what you shared.

This post will always be divided by the pairing that is the focus of the fic, if it is not tagged under one, then it will go under a General category that will be at the end. Also, all fics will be found after the cut, because this is a long post and we don’t want to clog yout timeline.

With all of that out of the way, enjoy!

Arthur/Merlin

1. If Merlin’s Into It, by Remianly Length: 660 words Summary: Arthur realizes he’s in love with Merlin and wishes to convey his feelings. He asks Gwaine for advice to help him in writing a love song.

2. The Witchfinder by StoriwrYNos Lenght: 4,669 Summary: When a witchfinder comes to Camelot looking for the person responsible for the magic witnessed there he quickly settles on Merlin as the perpetrator. Will Arthur be able to come up with a plan to save Merlin in time, and will he even want to if he knows what Merlin really is?

3. Em-bare-assing by alienvomplanetenwooh Lenght: 1,589 Summary: Letting down your pants in public can lead to unexpected outcomes.

4. A More Comfortable Place to Sleep by JimJamDavis Word Count: 912 Summary: On the floor in front of the fireplace he could see the tasseled edge of one of his cushions, where it had no place being. The misplaced cushion wasn’t what had stopped him however, but the curl of delicate fingers loosely grasping it.Apparently the room wasn’t quite as empty as he’d thought. Merlin falls asleep on the floor, and Arthur makes him more comfortable.

5. Dead And Breakfast by yourrockyspine Lenght: 4,345 Summary: After his Mum’s demise, Merlin kept her beautifully-maintained B&B up and running.And though he mostly loves having his mother’s ghost nearby, it’s some of the other deceased residents that make it exceedingly hard to please his (living) clients.[This was originally going to be a Happy Merloween chapter, but it’s just too silly and whimsical. No scary here, just utter madness. And a spot of smut and romance.]

6. My Major is Pre-Sorcery by princepratness Lenght: 5,843 Summary: Merlin’s in the pre-sorcery department and Arthur’s in the Prince program. The last thing Arthur expected is for them to ever get along. However, they do. In fact, they get along so damn well that Arthur’s stuck wondering how he never noticed when the insults became kisses instead.

7. Modern Merlin AU by V_L_G_4200 Summary: Inspired by tumblr posts by ‘katiemcgrath’“Almost got arrested.” Lenght: 6,494 “What?? Why?” “Punched the Prince of Wales.” “Was he angry?” “I don’t know. Gave me his number.” “You going to call him?” “Nah, gonna post it on Twitter.”

8. all the best it could be (just you and i) by pynk (pinkjook) Lenght: 7,860 Summary: Arthur’s never been much for pining, but he’s never been much for lying, either. Not even to himself.

9. Between the shadow and the soul by fireatwill52 Lenght: 29,333 Summary: Arthur meets Merlin at a wedding and falls head over heels. About an hour later his fiancee Vivian talks Merlin into being their wedding planner. Arthur thinks this is fantastic, because he gets to spend more time with Merlin… if only there wasn’t going to be a wedding that married him to someone else at the end of it.

10. of blowjobs and candy rings by coffeeandparchment Lenght: 6,221 Summary: "No.“ "What? I didn’t even say anything yet.” “You didn’t have to. It’s all in your beady little eyes. You want me to give you a piggyback to the club.” Arthur said. “My feet hurt,” Merlin said, as if that was a good enough reason for a piggy back. At Arthur’s silence, Merlin pouted. Gods, maybe he was a little more than tipsy. Arthur slowed down as Merlin walked past. “What are you doing now? For someone who is all about doing these quickly you sure ar—” Merlin cut off as he turned to see Arthur stopped and crouching down. "What are you doing?” Arthur huffed in annoyance. “What does it look like, Merlin? Are you going to get on or just leave me crouching here like an idiot all night?”

11. If You’re Still Breathing You’re The Lucky Ones by Withstarryeyes Lenght: 1,722 Summary: But the concern wasn’t the fact that his eyes itched, but what that meant. Ever since Merlin was a child he’d get random fevers at least once or twice a year. They’d stay for a day or two but they always spiked during the night, leaving him delirious and shaking under blankets. He would wake up with itchy eyes, then at midnight he’d have a 105-degree fever and his mother would have to tend to him all night to make sure didn’t die or boil alive. But tonight, Arthur was going on a hunting trip with the knights and Merlin had to tag along to cook and clean and polish armor and his eyes itched.

12. Carry On, Calm or Not by yourrockyspine Lenght: 14,765 Summary: After an inadvertent attempt on his life, 17-year-old Merlin finds himself stuck in the Camelot Ward for Troubled Adolescents. Forced to work through his feelings of helplessness, Merlin develops a new lease on life and learns to find happiness in the strangest of corners.

13. You Can Be King Again by asuralucier Lenght: 14,886 Summary: Victorianesque — Arthur Pendragon, Marquess of Harington flees to his (father’s) country estate for a well-deserved summer holiday. He has his hands full with Merlin, the surly stable boy and Arthur is also pretty sure there’s a ghost haunting his father’s house.

14. The Vacation by Mina264 Lenght: 5,718 Summary: Merlin needs a vacation from Camelot and Arthur tags along. They make some realizations during this vacation that will change their lives forever.

15. Fractured Magic by LunaCanisLupus_22 Lenght: 141,847 Summary: “Oi!” Merlin shouts. “People are trying to study in here. Piss off somewhere else!” “What did you say, spellbegger?” he calls back, tone arrogant and haughty like just about every other Knight on Campus. “Come down here and say that to my face.” Or the Sky High AU where Knights and Magic Users attend University to learn how to fight evil magic and Merlin and Arthur do not get along. Until they do.

16. Knights on the case by TheGameIsOn_Geronimo Lenght: 3,707 Summary: The knights decide that they just can’t deal with all the pining and sexual frustration that comes from being near Merlin and Arthur, so they decide to take matters into their own hands. As (probably) expected: chaos ensues.

17. The Jealous King by guessimaclotpole Lenght: 2,057 Summary: “How about jealous Arthur when he finds out there are loads of other knights and servants who have crushes on Merlin (who sometimes flirts back) and he loses his shit when one starts to court him and is just like “no” and kisses him up against the wall and afterwards Merlin is just like “it’s about fuckin time” mm yeah that’s some good shit right there”

18. inhiare ardens by mishcollin Lenght: 9,616 Summary: Merlin starts a courtship, and Arthur’s fine with it. Completely fine with it. In which Arthur discovers that he’s not fine with it, and some other things about himself.

Gwaine/Merlin

1. For the Love of All Who Gather by Nebula5030 Lenght: 92,053 Summary: Merlin hadn’t wanted Arthur to discover his magic like that: with Merlin performing a spell in the woods and Arthur simply stumbling across him. But with wounds both old and new festering within him, Arthur believes he has no choice- and banishes his dearest friend. Forced from Camelot, Merlin and Gwaine find themselves living amongst Druids, and Merlin discovers he has the chance to learn more about his magic, his heritage, and the prophecy that binds him and Arthur together. But with tensions stirring both near and abroad, past lies come to light, and everyone finds that not everything is truly as it seems.

2. My Dearest Merlin by Nebula5030 Lenght: 2,305 Summary: A week after the Battle of Camlann, Merlin receives a letter.

3. Private Moments by Nebula5030 Lenght: 758 Summary: With Gwaine’s body against his, the mattress to his back, and Gwaine kissing him slowly and deeply, Merlin found himself wondering why they didn’t do this more often. Why they always waited before taking time to do this. Merlin’s hand began to slide up under Gwaine’s shirt- “Merlin?” Gaius’s voice came through the door. Merlin and Gwaine both froze, their heads snapping to the door. Oh. That was why.

4. Obelus: Doubt The Tale by Lion_owl Lenght: 2,427 Summary: Gwaine's got back to Camelot and Gaius is safe; now, he's worried about what's become of Merlin. But soon they're reunited and they talk everything out.

Arthur/Gwen

1. got to be (something bigger than me) by CyberQueens Lenght: 30,620 Summary: A thousand and a half years (or thereabouts) after Camlann, Gwen finds two strange men at her door. Written for roundtablemanagers' Round Table Minutes March 2016 prompt 'Once and Futures'.

2. Baby this is it by sadpendragon Lenght: 342 Summary: It had given Arthur a certain joy to tease Guinevere about the words she had told him during his illness. But it had also made him think.

3. Knights & Merlin (+ Gwen) by tymedfire * Lenght: 9,171 Summary: This is a collection of unconnected fics, with each fic focusing on the relationship between Merlin and a Knight of the Round Table, with a bonus addition of Gwen. There will be fluff and angst, though mostly angst, but who knows. There WILL be fluff, though, I promise you that.

* We decided to put this one here because even though most of the fics in this series are not tagged to go with a certain ship, one of them has Arthur/Gwen as the tagged pairing.

Gwen/Merlin

1. Kiss me when I’m down by sadpendragon Lenght: 937 Summary: We were each other’s first after all.

Merlin/Morgana

1. Any Other Name by RemixConstellation Lenght: 1,024 Summary: She fits him, like nothing else he has ever worn. Nothing he will ever wear again. There’s a bounty on their heads. One they cannot out run. One that flows in their veins and lights up their eyes. Sometimes, in the glow of the fire, he wonders what crime it is to just be born. How could a king with magic under his sign, put a sword through a sister’s chest for the magic under her skin?

Arthur/Leon

1. A Poetic Affair by sadpendragon Lenght: 732 Summary: Leon knew what poetry meant, and Leon wasn’t so sure he was amused by it anymore.

#merthur #merwaine #arwen #mergana #arthur/leon #newbie week #roundup #merlinwritermonth2018

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seizasa-a · 6 years

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These are Hard Times for Dreamers &&. Love Lost Believers ( ALL MUSES // HARRY POTTER AU )

Below the read more is a summary of each muse’s role in this AU. Ages and occupations may change according to the plot of any threads written in this verse.

TOBIRAMA.

House: Slytherin Year/Age: Fifth/15-16 (Prefect) Familiar: White fennec fox Wand: Maple wood, unicorn hair core, 10 ¾", hard flexibility Patronus: Rat

Although they are commonly regarded as vermin or pests, rats have impressive traits that signify them as worthy opponents, including sociability, resourcefulness, and ambition. Despite their timidness, rats are known to be stubborn and full of devious ways. Thus, they should be treated with caution.

One of the few to break the mould Slytherin has crafted for itself throughout its history as a house of evildoers and ne’er-do-wells, Tobirama is a pillar of blind justice, though his drive and ambition leave little room to question his rightful Hogwarts house. He aspires to become an inventor of spells, determined to learn everything there is to learn about magic and how it works. Above even that, though, he longs to make a name for himself that stands alone from “Hashirama’s little brother”. He respects and, to a degree, admires his brother’s achievements in the wizarding world, but he’s never been one to settle for walking in the footsteps of someone else.

MADARA.

House: Ravenclaw Year/Age: Sixth/16-17 Familiar: Gyrfalcon Wand: Ebony wood, thestral tail hair core, 12", unbending flexibility Patronus: White stallion

Those with the white stallion patronus possess a strong sense of self. It is difficult to convince them to turn away from personal beliefs or change who they are. Strength and durability in character make the white stallion especially formidable compared to the conjurers of other horse type patronus. However, those who wield the white stallion can often be provocative and rub people up the way.

Madara is but a young wizard trying to find his path in life. He detests the supremacist ideology held by nearly all “purebloods”, largely because the Uchiha are a branch family of the Otsutsuki and are still treated as lesser to this day. Their distant Senju cousins don’t receive the same treatment due to their famous contributions to all of wizardkind in the form of both magical and legislative inventions and advancements. Both the Senju and Uchiha became branch families when their ancestors “tainted” the bloodline with muggle blood. Madara has resented the Otsutsuki for as long as he can remember and he dreams of one day absolving the Uchiha name by abolishing the widespread elitist pureblood propaganda that has plagued the wizarding world for centuries.

TETSUJIN.

House: Ravenclaw Age: 40 Familiar: Siamese Cat Wand: Ebony wood, dragon heartstring core, 11 ¼", rigid flexibility Patronus: Hyena

Often given a bad reputation, hyenas are cunning hunters and scavengers that know what they have to do to survive in the animal kingdom. They live and hunt in packs/clans and are very social animals. They often communicate with those in their clans by making a variety of noises, including the “laughter” they are so famous for. Hyenas are loyal, creative, and fierce.

Tetsujin was Ravenclaw’s poster boy of idle curiosity and devotion to his studies during his years at Hogwarts, so it was no surprise that he was Head Boy in his seventh year. He’d dabbled in such a wide array of magical genres that he didn’t have a clear idea of what he wanted to do until his last year of school. He’d known he wanted to work for the Ministry of Magic since the summer following his fifth year, but the specific position he wanted didn’t come to him for some time. Having achieved his latent desires, he now works as an Obliviator for the Ministry, though few know of this occupation. He doubles as Hogwarts’ professor of Ghoul Studies and only the Headmaster knows of his second job. He’s been assigned to keep an eye on the students should any issues with confidentiality arise.

JIRAIYA.

House: Gryffindor Age: 54 Familiar: Natterjack toad Wand: Silver Lime wood, phoenix feather core, 13 ¾", quite bendy flexibility Patronus: Badger

The recognizable mascot of Hufflepuff House, badgers represent determination. Badgers mostly keep to themselves but are aggressive when threatened. Connected to the earth, the badger is grounded and celebrates individuality. This creature’s stubbornness and instinct to protect make it a formidable enemy for Dementors!

In the glory of his youth, Jiraiya was fondly known as “the Bastard of Hufflepuff”, a title that began in mockery but became a moniker of great pride for its owner. It had been no secret that his muggle father was a deadbeat and that his witch mother had never wanted to give birth to him, but growing up an orphan only strengthened Jiraiya’s resolve to find his own family. He’s still very close friends with some of those from his Hogwarts house, as well as some from the others. He’d made a point of becoming everyone’s friend during his school years, and while he didn’t succeed by a long shot, he still made some everlasting connections that he wouldn’t trade for the world. Currently he’s an accomplished author of magical erotica and spends the rest of his time managing a small inn in Hogsmeade called Hiffle & Piffle Inn.

HINATA.

House: Hufflepuff Year/Age: Fifth/15-16 (Prefect) Familiar: Mini rex rabbit Wand: Cypress wood, dragon heartstring core, 10 ¼", quite bendy flexibility Patronus: Doe

As the Patronus of Severus Snape and Lily Potter, the doe is fiercely protective of its loved ones, as displayed through its caring and nurturing nature. The doe is also representative of gentleness yet strong determination, and with its high level of intuition and sensitivity, it battles life’s challenges with the utmost grace and vigilance.

As the heiress of the pureblooded Hyuga family, Hinata has been taught since birth to be graceful, dignified, and leaderly. She is decidedly none of those things due to a predisposition toward clumsiness and anxiety amoung other flaws. She’s just as disappointed in herself as her family is, though she hopes that by her seventh year at Hogwarts, she’ll have learned to become to woman they want her to be. At the same time, however, she secretly yearns for an escape from her life as little more than an heiress. She wants to explore herself and her possibilities beyond a duty to her family. She just needs a push in the right direction.

KAGAMI.

House: Hufflepuff Age: 23 Familiar: Ferret Wand: Maple wood, phoenix feather core, 10", pliant flexibility Patronus: Dolphin

Intelligence and sociability are among the main attributes of the dolphin. Also known for their playfulness and loyalty, dolphins live and work together in groups to aid the sick and injured and to defend each other from predators. Its incredible intelligence is put to good use in the form of solving complex problems and other such challenges. The dolphin does not enjoy dull, routine activities, so keeping busy with interesting tasks is a must!

Kagami actually hails from Mahotokoro in Japan and he is a professional Quidditch player for the Toyohashi Tengu. His team’s championships eventually led him to visit Hogwarts in England, where he giddily requested to wear the Sorting Hat out of pure curiosity as to what house he would be in. Once he was assigned Hufflepuff, he was offered a tour of the common rooms, which he gracefully accepted. He’s made similar requests all across the globe, ever so happy to see what the different magic schools were like on the inside. It was during his stay at Hogwarts for a scrimmage between one of their Quidditch teams and his that his wand broke and he had to order a new one from Ollivander. He’s quite fond of it and would say that it’s quite fond of him as well.

INDRA.

House: Slytherin Year/Age: Seventh/17-18 Familiar: Maine coon Wand: Pine wood, basilisk horn core, 12 ½", rigid flexibility Patronus: Dragon

One of the most powerful and formidable creatures of the magical world, dragons are ambitious and dominant. With the ability to breathe fire, they quickly assert themselves, garnering both fear and respect from those around them. They are unafraid to take risks and prefer to live by their own set of rules. They are quick to lead and do not back down from a challenge. Dragons are strong in their convictions and will stand for what they believe is right. Those with a dragon for a patronus are sure to be fierce fighters, and the Dementors better be ready for a challenge!

Known Parselmouth and heir apparent to a family of notoriously pureblooded Death Eaters, many Hogwarts students regard Indra as a Voldemort groupie, with respect to his wealthy status, of course. He has yet to make his stance clear on either his family’s affiliation with the Death Eaters or Voldemort himself, so it’s become a hot topic for gossip and rumours throughout the school. He shares an unnerving aura of stoicism and ruthlessness with his maine coon familiar, whose eyes follow everyone who dares come too close to his owner. Despite being a dead ringer for Slytherin’s reputation of villainy types, his goals and ambitions are a mystery. He largely keeps to himself and any rumour of his being seen willingly socializing are just that—rumours.

RYUZETSU.

House: Gryffindor Year/Age: Fifth/15-16 Familiar: Chinchilla Wand: Sycamore wood, unicorn hair core, 11 ½", unbending flexibility Patronus: Siberian cat

Siberian cats are perfect as patronuses. Fearless yet easygoing, they seem to always know when their humans need them for support or comfort. They can be quiet, with soft melodic purrs and chirps. While these may not be the cats to chase down a Dementor, they will stay with you, protecting and calming you until the Dementor fades away.

Having witnessed the death of her childhood best friend at a young age, Ryuzetsu has enjoyed, more or less, the company of thestrals for the majority of her life. She finds comfort in their presence as if they were remnants of Muku keeping an eye on her. Her mother and father head the family business of dragon keeping, a career she’s very much interested in taking up after graduating from Hogwarts. She’s always felt a certain kinship with dragons for their strength and ferocity, striving to become a strong and ferocious woman of her own.

#&&. ❛ VERSE ❪ these are hard times for dreamers &&. love lost believers . ❫#this took a stupid long time to write #mostly bc the hp wikia makes my computer shit itself for some godawful reason

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drpaulmacdonaldrnma · 3 years

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Have Success in Life Now: Learn The Wisdom of Solomon

Dr Paul MacDonald RN MA Dipl

Before you engage in an activity, do you consider the consequences? Or do you just plunge in right ahead—“leaping before you look”?

All actions carry consequences, good or bad. You may have heard this spoken of as “cause and effect.”

Do you know that this is a law, just as sure as gravity? “The curse causeless shall not come” (Prov.erbs 26:2). In other words, there is a cause for every effect.

For example, if you don’t study, you will fail your exams, or score poorly. If you don’t get enough sleep, you will be tired the next day. If you don’t eat properly, you will eventually become sick. If you don’t practice, you won’t make the sports team. For every effect, there is an underlying cause.

There are many situations in which this ever-present law comes into play. Based on the decisions you make, it can either work for your benefit or to your detriment. This unseen law can build you up—or bring you down.

Obviously, we all want to lead happy, successful lives. We all want to avoid making mistakes that could lead to ruin. Here’s how you can use the law of “cause and effect” to your benefit.

The Hard Way or the Better Way

There are two ways from which we can learn to avoid trouble. The first is by actual experience. Frequently, this involves unknowingly doing the wrong thing, and then through painful experiences learning it is not the right thing to do. You may have heard your parents call it “learning the hard way,” or “learning through the school of hard knocks.”

Perhaps as a child you burned your hand after being warned not to touch the stove. Or you were scratched by a cat, or bitten by a dog, for pulling their tail. At some point, you probably had to “learn the hard way.”

There is a better way to learn: from the experiences of others, especially adults. You should regularly seek advice and learn from your parents, aunts, uncles, teachers and other respected and responsible adults. Many mistakes can be avoided if you listen to those with wisdom and experience.

Of course, you can also learn by reading about the lives of others. Valuable lessons are contained in books written about famous people.

There is another place where you can get advice. The Bible contains many stories written for our learning (Romans 15:4). There is also an abundance of sound advice given by individuals. One such person is a king who lived over 2,500 years ago.

A Wise King

King Solomon was famous for his wisdom. In fact, he was the wisest human being who has ever lived (I Kings 3:12). He was so wise that many kings and other prominent people from around the world came to hear his wisdom. One such person was the Queen of Sheba. Skeptical about his famous reputation for wisdom, she came to test him with difficult questions. But after hearing his answers and seeing his wise administration, and the beauty and orderliness of his palace, she believed!

But even though he was wise, Solomon made mistakes. For instance, he disobeyed God and married women of other religions, even though he knew it was wrong. These women turned his heart away from God, and from God’s blessings (I Kings 11:1-4).

Learn From Lessons in Life

Solomon learned many lessons in his life, and as a result became very wise. He was also granted wisdom by God (I Kings 4:29). This wisdom—which can greatly benefit you—is primarily recorded in the books of Proverbs and Ecclesiastes. While his advice is valuable for people of all ages, much of it is specifically directed to young people. Let’s take a look.

Obey Your Parents

Today it isn’t “cool” to listen to parents. Parents are considered “old fashioned,” and out of touch with reality. Some teens even disrespectfully refer to their father as “the old man,” and to their mother as “a nag.” Many today believe their parents don’t understand them or the issues teens face. As a result, disobeying parents is common throughout society.

Are you tempted to disobey your parents? To disrespect them? Heed Solomon’s advice: “My son, hear the instruction of your father, and forsake not the law of your mother” (Prov.erbs 1:8).

Your parents have much more wisdom and experience than you. They can guide you in the right direction and help you avoid harmful mistakes.

Spend time with your parents. Seek their advice. You might be surprised by how much they know. Notice what Solomon said: “The thing that has been is that which shall be; and that which is done is that which shall be done: and there is no new thing under the sun” (Ecclesiastes 1:8-9).

There's Nothing New Under the Sun

There is nothing new. Your parents have experienced or been confronted with many of the same things as you. They have also seen similar problems in society: drugs, gangs, alcohol abuse, bullies, violence, depression, trendy styles, stress, consequences of premarital sex, problem relationships, broken friendships, etc.

Keep Good Company

Are you tempted to hang out with the “in-crowd”? The crowd that has a reputation for getting into trouble, violence, bullying, constantly swearing, not studying, listening to offensive music, constantly tinkering with their cellphones, dressing in provocative designer clothes, constantly partying, or getting drunk.

Avoid Bad Company

If you want to lead a successful life, then avoid bad company like the plague—or else it will corrupt you. It will influence you into bad habits, into doing things that are contrary to God’s Way (I Cor.inthians 15:33). Associating with bad company will eventually lead to destructive habits, and possibly a bad reputation. Just as dead flies can spoil expensive ointment, one mistake can ruin your reputation (Ecc.lesiastes 10:1).

Avoid Quarrels

Do you become angry easily? Are you quick to get involved in quarrels? Do you take pride in your temper? Are you tempted to “lose it” when provoked by others, when you don’t get what you want, or when someone tells you something you don’t want to hear?

Quarrelling is not a sign of strength, but weakness. Being temperamental is a sign of a lack of character. “He that has no rule over his own spirit is like a city that is broken down and without walls” (Proverbs. 25:28). When you fly into a temper, you become defenseless. You start reacting without thinking. This allows others to manipulate you, and therefore control you. They know what “sets you off.” As the saying goes, they can now “push your buttons.” Lashing out can result in a heap of problems with others—and even with men’s laws.

Keep Cool in All Situations

By contrast, maintaining a calm head helps you to think through whatever situation you are facing. It helps you to consider potential solutions and choose the best one. “He that is slow to anger is better than the mighty; and he that rules his spirit than he that takes a city” (Proverbs 16:32). Staying calm keeps you from doing things you will later regret.

Don't Instigate Strife

Another way to avoid quarrels is to not stir up strife with your tongue. Whenever you are provoked by others, remember the following rule: “A soft answer turns away wrath; but grievous words stir up anger” (Proverbs 15:1). Raising your voice, shouting or uttering biting, sarcastic comments only serves to provoke or intensify arguments or disagreements.

Stay Away From Violence

Today, violence is promoted in television shows, music videos, magazines, video games and on the Internet.

Violence is often thought of as something good. It is seen as a sign of strength. It is popular for teenagers to see themselves as “bad.” By this, they mean they will respond violently with overwhelming force if anyone “messes with them” or “disrespects” them.

Don't Be Incited to Join With Wicked Individuals

What if your peers ask you to perform violent deeds with them? How should you react? “My son, if sinners entice you, consent you not. If they say, Come with us, let us lay wait for blood, let us lurk privily [secretly] for the innocent without cause…My son, walk not you in the way with them; refrain your foot from their path” (Proverbs 1:10-11, 15).

Involvement in violent acts will eventually get you into trouble. It may even cost your life.

You should also be careful of becoming friends with angry people. Their attitudes will eventually infect you, and you will become just like them (Prov.erbs 22:24-25).

Work Ethics

In school, are you working diligently at your studies? Do you do your homework in a timely manner? Or do your parents have to continually push you?

What about when your parents ask you to perform chores around the house? Do you work hard to do the best job possible? Or do you just do things as quickly as you can in a slip-shod fashion so you can get back to what you really want to do? Do your parents consider you to be a hard worker?

The Value of Hard Work

If you want to succeed in life, you must learn the value of hard work. “The hand of the diligent shall bear rule: but the slothful shall be under tribute” (Prov.erbs 12:24). And whatever you do, give it your all (Ecclesiastes. 9:10). Don’t perform a task half-heartedly.

Lazy people eventually have little, or even nothing. This is their “reward” for their lack of effort (Prov.erbs 13:4). Don’t let this happen to you; don’t allow yourself to be a “slacker.”

Solomon was a great observer of nature; he learned many lessons there. Next time you see a colony of ants, notice how hard they work and learn from their example (Proverbs 6:6-11).

Don’t wait for your parents or others to ask you to perform certain tasks. Take the initiative, be proactive—and work hard to accomplish the job. Others will notice your attitude, and you will eventually be recognized. “See you a man diligent in his business? He shall stand before kings; he shall not stand before mean [unknown] men” (Prov.erbs 22:29).

There is much wisdom from King Solomon in the Bible, wisdom that will greatly benefit you. Do you want to become successful? Then take time to study the books of Proverbs and Ecclesiastes, and apply the principles therein. If you do, you will be well on your way to success and keep yourself from much heartache and suffering.

Fear God and Keep His Commandments

The greatest piece of advice given by Solomon is found in the final chapter of Ecclesiastes: “Let us hear the conclusion of the whole matter. "Fear God, and keep His commandments", for this is the whole duty of man” (Ecclesiastes. 12:13).

This is the key to success. Do what God says, and see the benefits in your life.

Israel Institute of Biblical Studies

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grandwarlordradha · 6 years

Text

JOHANN STUFF

tagged by @odric-master-swagtician for mtg fanwalker character stuff i dont have the energy to finish all the questions so ill come back and finish this later (?) (also uh someone copy paste the wizards copyright policy somewhere for me to add onto this)

Character Name: Johann Gottschalk Age: 25 Appearance: here, on the right (art by hazoretspartyfavors) 1. What do you know about this character now that s/he doesn’t know? HEY DIPSHIT YOU’RE WORKING FOR A DEMON 2. What is this character’s greatest flaw? His dependency. His reliance on faith was a pretty poor coping mechanism for the death of his family, and only fueled an (unsuccessful) campaign to kill the monsters of Innistrad. This let him easily be manipulated by a demon masquerading as a remnant of Avacyn, and well...yeah. 3. What do you know about this character that s/he would never admit? The dorky kid he trained with as cathars is going to end up saving his life. 4. What is this character’s greatest asset? His preparedness. Years of isolation and fervent hatred for the monster races of Innistrad allowed him to cook up a bunch of different tools and strategies to kill them. 5. If this character could choose a different identity, who would s/he be? Honestly? A baker. 6. What music does this character sing to when no one else is around? He really, earnestly loves Kaladeshi party songs from his time there after his first planeswalk. He keeps sheet music of them around. 7. In what or whom does this character have the greatest faith? He still holds faith in Avacyn after her death, which led to his manipulation by the demon Süldrum. After he was saved from that sordid mess with @odric-master-swagtician ‘s Ian, and the two slew the demon, he shifted over to the ‘save those who cannot save themselves’ side of things more than ‘kill all monsters’ than he was previously. 8. What is this character’s favorite movie? What the hell is a movie?

9. Does this character have a favorite article of clothing? Favorite shoes? Whatever keeps him alive is his current favorite. He’s very much practicality over aesthetics. 10. Does this character have a vice? Name it. Johann, at least to start, is a bit of a legend amongst the Innistradi for being a brutal, wrathful slayer of the monstrous. His black-and-white morality tends to view humanity = good and monsters = evil, despite the dramatic irony of a vampire creating the angel he worshipped. This smooths out over time, but he still has a subconscious cruel streak towards his foes. 11. Name this character’s favorite person (living or dead. By default, Johann doesn’t stick around too many other people, so it’d probably be Ian, since he saved his life and all. 12. What is this character’s secret wish? He wants everyone good, Innistradi or off-plane, to be safe. Mainly so his work can be done and he can live some semblance of a normal life. 13. What is this character’s proudest achievement? Felling the demon Süldrum alongside Ian, destroying an offshoot of the Skirsdag known as the Eclipse in the process. The event slightly reversed the negative opinion people had of him once news spread. 14. Describe this character’s most embarrassing moment. Pick any moment in the prank wars Ian and Johann had in their cathar training youth, basically. 15. What is this character’s deepest regret? His entire time as an unwitting servant of the demon Süldrum. The demon posed as Avacyn, and commanded him to exterminate the monsters of Innistrad, as well as those throughout the Multiverse. Many of them were simply enemies of Süldrum he wanted eliminated, with Johann none the wiser. It took the intervention of Ian, a near duel to the death between the two, and their combined efforts to end the demon’s machinations and his hold on Johann. 16. What is this character’s greatest fear? Nonserious: His ichthyophobia. The guy fucking hates fish despite being raised in Nephalia as the son of a fisherman. Serious: The possibility that if he wasn’t stopped, Johann would’ve murdered plenty of innocent people under Süldrum’s command. 17. Describe this character’s most devastating moment. The combined shock of his loss to Ian--who he’d soundly bested for years in their cathar training, as well as the revelation that ‘Avacyn’ was actually a Skirsdag demon manipulating him was a supremely humbling moment. 18. What is this character’s greatest achievement? See #13 (?) 19. What is this character’s greatest hope? See #12(?) 20. Does this character have an obsession? Name it. His mission to (previously) exterminate monsters, or (currently) safeguard the meek and innocent. 21. What is this character’s greatest disappointment? See #17 22. What is this character’s worst nightmare? Well shit, the guy saw his family’s corpses after they were killed by a Markov neonate. What more do you want? 23. Whom does this character most wish to please? Why? Honestly? The common folk. He doesn’t stick around in too many people’s lives for long, so he hopes the impression he makes is a good and inspiring one. 24. Describe this character’s mother. Lorelei Gottschalk was a housewife, but was far more crass than one would expect from that position. Her foul-mouth, take-no-shit attitude, and feisty nature won over Sergei, and the two settled down in Nephalia to raise a family by the sea. Johann learned to cook from her, and if it wasn’t for her own ingenuity in the kitchen, he may never have learned how to be as handy with tools or food as he is today. 25. Describe this character’s father. Sergei Gottschalk was a fisherman on the coast of Nephalia, and one of the pillars of his community bringing home most of the food for it’s people. While he would frequently have to go out on lengthy trips, he would always make sure to spend time with his family once he was back home. He’d often joke Avacyn was ‘testing’ him by giving him a son with a fear of fish who usually refused to eat it, but was always good-hearted and patient with his son. Johann’s fondest memory with his father was on his tenth birthday, when they were practicing fishing and he ‘miraculously’ (read: his father planted) caught a silvered necklace of Avacyn’s collar. He still has it to this day. 26. If s/he had to choose, with whom would this character prefer to live? His mother, if only because living on a fishing ship for a majority of his life would kill the man. 27. Where does this character fall in birth order? What effect does this have? Only child. 28. Describe this character’s siblings or other close relatives. None to speak of, really. 29. Describe this character’s bedroom. Include three cherished items. Most of Johann’s life is spent nomadically, but he does have a storage attic he rents out in Kaladesh he rents out and occasionally visits during times of rest. 1. His silvered Avacyn’s collar necklace (See #25) 2. Daybreak, his separating customized sword. 3. Morbid, but he keeps the pulled teeth of the neonate that killed his family in a glass container. It reminds him of his duty and what can happen when he’s not there to protect people. 30. What is this character’s birth date? How does this character manifest traits of his/her astrological sign? Johann was born on the (Innistradi equivalent?) of May 14th, making him a Taurus. Tauruses are: Independent, persistent, and stubborn. (sounds good to me) 31. If this character had to live in seclusion for six months, what items would s/he bring? Most of his life is done in seclusion, so...this is kind of just ‘default’ Johann? He’d bring all his survival gear and weapons. 32. Why is this character angry? BRO HE FAMILY DEAD AND MOST OF HIS ADULT LIFE IS A LIE 33. What calms this character? Safety and quiet easily transitions him from battles for survival or protection back into a calm mindset. 34. Describe a recurring dream or nightmare this character might have. 35. List the choices (not circumstances) that led this character to his/her current predicament.

36. List the circumstances over which this character has no control.

37. What wakes this character in the middle of the night? Any noises or bumps in the night get him jumpy, given his lifestyle as a monster hunter. He rarely wakes up from nightmares in the middle of the night.

38. How would a stranger describe this character? Cold, brutal, and overzealous. 39. What does this character resolve to do differently every morning?

40. Who depends on this character? Why?

41. If this character knew s/he had exactly one month to live, what would s/he do? 42. How would a dear friend or relative describe this character? Bull-headed, tenacious, and loyal. 43. What is this character’s most noticeable physical attribute? His facial tattoo in the symbol of Avacyn’s collar, a relic of his time as a near-mad zealot working under Süldrum. If he could, he’d get it removed in a heartbeat, though it has some sentimental value for what it used to represent. 44. What is this character hiding from him/herself? Nothing comes to mind. Johann is (mostly) aware of his flaws and regrets. 45. Write one additional thing about your character.

Johann’s color identity is firmly W/B, with a bit of an equal pull towards R or U for a third color.

#consulate creations #johann gottschalk #fanwalkers #consulate content

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eternalstereksecretsanta · 6 years

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Where Our Story Begins

@fear-frost | AO3 | This is not precisely what you asked for, but I hope you’ll enjoy it either way, I definitely enjoyed writing it :)

Explicit (though this only applies to part VI)

It all started with the kelpie even if that wasn’t what it was.

It all started with the kelpie.

Well, to be precise it all started back when he was 16 and had dragged Scott into the woods, but considering the clusterfuck that had turned out to be – with kanimas and evil grandpas not to mention the animosity between them all and whatnot – Stiles usually tended to ignore those few years when telling the story.

So – it started with the kelpie. And whatever was a kelpie even doing in a goddamn forest in the first place, is what Stiles would very much like to know. Or, he would have if he wasn’t just a little preoccupied fricking drowning! But he was, so he missed what had probably been an epic battle of the pack taking down the ginormous horse creature only to come to on an all too familiar (and all too cold, too) steel table, looking up into the alpha’s worried eyebrows. Admittedly all of Derek is probably worried but his eyebrows seem to be the only part of him actually willing to admit it.

Turns out the kelpie isn’t as much dead

“It wasn’t a kelpie, Stiles,” Lydia snaps at him. “Then what was it?” he asks, mind already going in a million different directions trying to remember every bit of lore he’s ever read concerning either horse-like creatures or creatures wanting to drown some poor, unsuspecting guy minding his own business. Every thought comes to a screeching halt when a heavy hand lands on the nape of his neck and this sort of calm just washes over him. “We don’t know,” Derek grumbles.

as it had just made a strategic retreat in the light of being massively outnumbered; though why it would isn’t very clear considering nothing the pack did had seemed to do any sort of permanent damage, but Stiles isn’t really in the mood for analyzing the reasoning of some unknown entity when it’s suddenly decided that he should have a babysitter.

“I can take care of myself,” he says, outraged that his best friend would throw him under the bus like that. Derek’s gone back to his usual blank expression and Stiles can’t help but wonder if maybe he’d imagined the worry in the first place. Even now after saving each other’s lives several times, making Jackson into a real wolf and getting rid of aforementioned evil grandpa; after prying Boyd, Erica and – surprisingly – Cora Hale from the clutches of the alpha pack (and disposing of them – permanently), Stiles sometimes get the feeling that Derek doesn’t like him, only tolerate his presence in the pack because he’s kind of a prerequisite for Scott staying.

Then there are times where Stiles will unexpectedly turn his head and catch Derek staring at him with something close to fondness in his eyes, times when Derek ducks his head and Stiles is almost a hundred percent certain there’s a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth brought forth by whatever Stiles was doing or saying at the time. Those times Stiles can’t stop his heart from beating a little faster or his palms getting a little sweatier or his mind drifting off into a pleasant daydream, one he’s usually rudely brought out of again by Erica’s snickering and Lydia rolling her eyes while everybody else simply ignore him.

Things are once again quiet when they finally mange to get rid of the kelpie

“Still not a kelpie, Stiles,” Lydia says though her voice has the resigned tone of someone who has given up on making the person they’re talking to see reason.

not that any of them really know how, in the end they had simply thrown anything they could think of at the creature and at some point it had sort of just vanished with a ‘plop’ and the smell of rotting flowers. It meant they didn’t have to stay and deal with the corpse and could get the hell away from the stench quickly; small blessings and all that. It also meant that things could get back to normal especially with Derek going back to his own home rather than staying at the Sheriff’s house (so, Stiles had moved back home after college, that’s hardly a crime), and Stiles resolutely did not miss sharing space with the werewolf.

But though things had quieted down considerably since those horrible high school years where it’d felt like they were battling a new monster every week, the Nemeton still attracts the occasional creature so it’s hardly a surprise when the siren shows up. Not that they take one look at the new barista in town and go all body snatcher screechy on her, but when the dust settles on that particular fiasco the pack give each other knowing looks before going off to somewhere that isn’t the house where Derek and Stiles are yelling at each other.

It had been a perfectly ordinary Monday. As the newest deputy in Beacon Hills, Stiles was the one tasked with getting the coffee for the rest of the station; a task he’d gleefully accepted as it meant his dad wouldn’t be getting any of those sugary concoctions he’d been drinking at work with the excuse that they were called coffee. As always Stiles had his eyes on his phone and just made his way to the counter where he rattled of the usual order, knowing full well that Edith Wilson had had it written down since before Stiles was born; Beacon Hills sheriff’s department was nothing if not dependable.

It’s the chuckle that has him snap his head up, eyes going wide in shock because if that’s Mrs. Wilson then he would very much like to know where the Fountain of Youth is located these days. There’s something familiar about the woman, both her looks, voice and laugh strikes a chord of recognition in him though he’s certain he’s never laid eyes on her before in his life. He shakes the unsettling feeling and with an awkward chuckle apologizes before repeating the order in a significantly slower tempo giving her time to enter it all on the register.

He’s pleasantly surprised when, while making the different coffees, she strikes up a conversation. Stiles may have gotten more control over his tongue since leaving his teens, but he’s still a proficient rambler and it’s always nice to have a captive audience. The woman smiles and laughs at all the right places, even manages to put in a few questions or remarks of her own, and soon Stiles has forgotten that feeling of having seen her before, engrossed in their conversation as he is.

It’s a few weeks later when he’s doing his grocery shopping and a woman who seems familiar comes up to him and starts talking as if they’re old friends. He spends far too long trying to place her – all his high school friends are in the pack, the ones he made in college are half a country away from Beacon Hills, and Stiles never really was good at making new friends in the first place, which means he could point out every single one of those he do call friends even if it was pitch black inside the store – and at long last his silence make her close her mouth seconds before a sheepish smile stretches her lips, a blush rising on her cheeks that wasn’t there before.

“You don’t remember me,” she says as she laughs a little shyly. Stiles sees no need to argue her statement even if he’s beginning to feel a little bad about it.

“I’d forgotten how different you look without the uniform.” Her smile has lost some of the sheepishness even if Stiles isn’t really any closer to figuring out who she is.

“I’m Kereda. Your friendly neighborhood barista!? And you’re the cop with the funny name who laughs at my lame ass jokes every morning.” By now there’s something hopeful in her expression and Stiles finally recognizes the woman who’s taken over for Mrs. Wilson while the elderly lady is recovering from a broken hip, and as recognition sparks it feels natural to send her a smile in answer to hers and stretch out his hand.

“Yeah, of course,” he chuckles. “And you’re right, it’s like Clark Kent and the glasses.” She laughs and before Stiles is sure what happened he finds himself at the diner, curly fries and milk shake in front of him as he and Kereda are talking the hours away. He’s dimly aware of a phone ringing continuously but it’s all lost in the kaleidoscope of the woman’s eyes; a shiver runs through him as if the temperature has suddenly dropped and out the corner of his eye he sees… no, that can’t be right, how can there be a fifteen foot tree in a diner in Beacon Hills?

Stiles focuses on Kereda’s face – the skin too smooth and with the wrong hue; eyebrows too light and too thin – watches her mouth move, he can’t make out the words but the voice is wrong, something he can’t reconcile with the face before him. And then he hears it, other voices calling his name, howls echoing through the air making it through the fog in his head and he groans when he realizes he’s in the preserve getting dragged towards the lake where he’d nearly drowned barely three months ago.

His wrist is held in an iron grip and though he’s nowhere near as scrawny as he was at sixteen he’s still human and Kereda clearly isn’t, no matter what he tries it’s impossible to get her grip to loosen in the slightest as the steadily nears the edge of the water. The tips of his shoes have almost breached the surface when Derek barrels into the woman claws and teeth out reaching for anything to tear at. There’s a slight hesitation, a fraction of a second as if she thinks it’s not worth the effort but then she lets go of Stiles and turns to meet the threat head on.

The rest of the pack soon descends upon her but not until Stiles has seen the human melt away to be replaced by something that essentially resembles an oversized, beach ball with orange and yellow fur and long, snake like limbs ending in something that might be blades – they leave shallow wounds on the wolves that soon close up again. It’s over almost as soon as it began, Isaac and Boyd dragging the now very dead siren away from the lake presumably to get rid of it while Derek stalks towards Stiles, the wolf receding and with the return of his eyebrows the disapproval is clear on his face.

Stiles opens his mouth to say something in his own defense, but it’s lost in an indignant squawk as Derek bends and lifts him bridal style carrying him off in the direction of the pack house, the others following quietly.

The ensuing screaming match reaches epic proportions, even if Stiles loses on points when he trips over the last step on the stairs; Derek’s chuckle accompanies him all the way to his dreams.

III

The fairy isn’t Stiles’ fault; he’d like everybody to know that. The tiny terror had shown up on the full moon, thrown some sort of dust at Derek, cackled manically and said something that involved a lot of chirping noises nobody could make sense of, before it was gone as abruptly as it had shown up.

Not that anybody was scrambling to find the thing as they were all staring at the alpha and trying to shield their ears from the horrible sound of 206 bones breaking to morph into a different shape. Once the last crack sounds where Derek was just seconds ago there is now a gigantic, black wolf, its eyes a blazing red amidst all the dark fur.

There’s no sound, as if the entire forest is holding its breath; even the wind has stopped blowing and all they can hear is the memory of the leaves rustling and the blood rushing in their veins. As if by agreement it’s Stiles who takes a step forward, reaching his hand towards the wolf, his voice a higher pitch than usual when he says a single word.

“Derek?”

The wolf tilts its head as if wondering why anybody would ask such a silly question and then there’s a tongue slobbering all over Stiles’ hand.

“Okay then,” he says, wiping his hand on his pants with a look of disgust on his face; nostrils flaring when Jackson snorts a laugh at him.

“Screw you…” he starts but is cut off by Derek growling and flashing his teeth at the beta until he bares his throat and takes a few steps back. Puzzled Stiles files the interaction away to be looked at when Derek’s back to his usual self. He takes out his phone and shoots of a quick text to Lydia letting her know what has happened asking her if she could maybe try and get some answers from Deaton. It’s not that Stiles wouldn’t enjoy dragging the cryptic man from his sleep; it’s just that experience has taught him Lydia is far better at getting answers from the man than Stiles is. Then he tells the pack he’s going to head back to the house and start looking through the bestiary and see if there are any answers there.

He leafs through the books in Derek’s library, Peter’s laptop and his personal copy of the Argent bestiary. There’s nothing anywhere to suggest what the fairy had done to Derek or why and aster hours of research with nothing to show for it Stiles falls asleep in the chair he’s sitting in, bend over the desk and with his head resting on the book he took from the shelf two minutes earlier.

Stiles doesn’t even stir when Boyd carries him upstairs and puts him to bed, doesn’t react when the bed dips and a warm body snuggles closer. He sleeps undisturbed, his arms wrapped around a body that at some point loses its canine shape leaving Stiles and Derek to sleep in each other’s arms.

The harpy infestation is nothing but a minor footnote: unpleasant for sure and not something any of them hope happens again, but a footnote nonetheless. The omega who crosses the border three days later, however, is an entire different story.

For starters because it decides to kidnap Scott.

Stiles and Scott had made plans to veg out on the couch playing video games just like they used to before werewolves became something that turned out to be real. It’s a day just for the two of them, no talk of pack or Allison or Derek. So when his best friend isn’t obnoxiously ringing the bell at nine in the morning Stiles knows something is wrong.

Not much has happened since the morning he woke up in Derek’s bed and had snuck out while the man was still asleep, but seeing as that’s months ago maybe they should’ve all been prepared for something to happen soon. He calls Allison, hoping that Scott has simply forgotten their appointment and gotten lost in her dimples (it has happened before); she calmly tells him that Scott had left at eight like he always does when it’s “bro-day”, her voice quivering slightly as she tells him to pick her up on his way to the pack house, she’ll text the others to meet there, too.

The jeep’s the last car to pull up, the pack already gone trying to pick up Scott’s scent. Stiles makes tea, figuring both he and Allison are too keyed up to need coffee right now and Lydia’s on some weird cleanse or diet or something (he’s stopped paying attention to these things, it comes with being her friend rather than her stalker) and only drinks this foul smelling thing; he sticks to jasmine for his and Allison’s though.

It’s noon before the door opens and Derek’s standing there in a pair of running shorts and a sweaty wife beater, making Stiles forget to be worried, at least until he opens his mouth.

“We found blood between your house and the Sheriff’s,” he says, but before his audience has time to panic he thankfully continues.

“It’s just a drop or two, and even if it’s definitely Scott’s it’s not something to worry about.”

Which Stiles is inclined to believe, after all he’s seen his friends practically hemorrhaging their internal organs and they’re still here. He does know about nasty things like vaporized wolfsbane though, so he’s not ready to relax just about yet. As if reading his mind Derek’s suddenly looking him right in the eyes.

“There’s the scent of another werewolf, omega most likely, but nothing else.”

And just like that Stiles feels like he can breathe again.

Derek drives while Allison and Stiles are clinging to each other both worried about Scott but hopeful they’re going to get him back in one piece. The car slows down once they reach the part of town with all the abandoned warehouse, and when it finally stops Derek wordlessly orders them out and motions for them to follow him. About 500 yards away the rest of the pack joins them just before they reach one of the larger buildings.

It’s dark inside and Stiles holds tight onto Derek’s top, knowing the wolf will make sure he doesn’t trip over anything or walk into a wall or something equally noisy. It doesn’t take long, though, to get Scott and his abductor in view. The stranger’s talking but his voice too low for Stiles to make out the words, but the sight of his clawed hands confirms the suspicion that he’s a werewolf so Stiles reaches for the chain around his neck from which hangs a small vial filled with mountain ash. He removes the lid and believes, making an impenetrable barrier between the stranger and Scott.

Once they’ve made sure Scott’s safe and sound Derek orders the lot of them to go home while he waits for Deaton to come question the strange wolf. Stiles takes it as a sign of personal growth when the alpha doesn’t even glare at him when he sits down having decided to keep him company while waiting.

Turns out the guy has a grudge on Peter and for some reason had thought Scott was his beta and could lead him to the man. When Scott had told him he had no idea where Peter is the man hadn’t believed him. Stiles, because he’s a nice guy, gives the man the information he’s after: Peter Hale is currently gallivanting through France with Chris Argent. At the disgusted face the man pulls Stiles nods sagely and says.

“Yeah, I called TMI on them, too,” he smirks, “but at least they left it at the euphemisms.”

When Deaton shows up the stranger is practically in tears and begging to be far aware from both Stiles and Derek, the alpha cracking a smile once they’re out of sight cause Stiles’ heart to go into overdrive and the smile getting replaced by an expression he can’t decipher. Then he turns on his heel and starts running leaving Stiles to drive home by himself.

They’d all thought the Nemeton was dead, nothing but an empty shell of its former glory working as a beacon drawing supernatural creatures with ill intent to the town. But Lydia had found an obscure reference and she and Stiles had managed to piece together a ritual to cleanse the tree and make it grow once more.

Neither would ever go into detail but all the wolves had felt their connection to the land and each other strengthen – they’d been surprised realizing that both Peter, Chris, Melissa and the Sheriff were pack, though that had been nothing compared to the humans’ surprise when feeling the pack bonds for the first time – and when they’d gone to see the Nemeton the full moon following the ritual none of them had been the slightest surprised at the sight of thin branches and light green leaves growing from the stump.

And with everything being all peaceful and winter fast approaching Derek probably shouldn’t be surprised when most of the pack showed up on a chilly Saturday morning, bringing boxes filled with decorations and cookie ingredients inside. Soon the house smelt like cinnamon, oranges and cloves, there were fir, festoons, lights and wreaths everywhere and on the mantle of the fireplace hung fourteen stockings each with their owner’s name embroidered.

Sunday was spent decorating outside and by the time the pack declared themselves done Derek was very happy there weren’t anybody living in the preserve; a pair of legs were sticking out the chimney, the lawn was practically invisible beneath the reindeer and the sleigh with the sack of presents not to mention the angels and snowmen and giant letters. Everything, including the entirety of the house, was wrapped in lights. Derek could see white, yellow, red, green and blue, some lights were static others not and some even changed color continuously. It reminded him of Christmases past and looking to his uncle and sister he could see they thought the same even if they were both smiling.

Overwhelmed Derek just stands there taking it all in before suddenly wrapped in a hug by Boyd. Hesitantly he reciprocates which seems to be some kind of sign as the rest of the pack’s suddenly just there and they’re all hugging each other, even Peter and Chris a part of the group in a way they rarely are.

They end the evening in a pizza induced food coma laying around on the furniture and floor of the living room with some movie Stiles picked playing on the tele vision, Derek’s basking in the warmth of pack and the bodies flanking him and doesn’t even fight the tug of sleep.

Stiles’ eyes are glowing amber where the light streaming through the bedroom window hits them just right, his mouth stretched wide on a loving smile and his entire expression soft in a way Derek has never seen; it makes his heart beat faster and his palms sweaty, adrenaline pumping through him though the only thing he dares move is his eyes, raking over the naked body pinned beneath him.

It has taken years to get here and Derek intends to savor the moment for as long as he can. He remembers two boys searching for an inhaler, remembers a human shaking with fear who refused to let him go. For a second he regrets that it has taken them this long, but they’re all brushed away by hands framing his face and long fingers stroking his cheeks; they both needed the time to learn to trust themselves as much as they trusted the other.

The wolf stretches beneath his skin and Derek concedes that he also needed the time to reconnect with the wolf, learning to trust his instincts again.

Besides it hardly matters anymore that they’ve moved towards each other at glacial speed, what matters is that they’re finally here, together. This, them, is still exhilaratingly new that lying here both of them bared to the other’s eyes, should feel like it’s going too fast and while Derek feels like he’s tied to the front of a runaway train he in no way feels like things are going too fast, his senses telling him that Stiles doesn’t think so either.

“You’re sure,” he still asks, needing Stiles to consent with his voice as much as his steady heart beat and intoxicating scent broadcasting nothing but lust, need, want.

“Yeah,” Stiles rasps, pulling Derek’s face closer to his own slotting his lips over the wolf’s. It’s gentle, tentative because even if they’ve kissed a million times by now this feels different, something new they both have to explore together.

Derek gets lost in it, the feel of Stiles’ lips against his own, his tongue swiping his bottom lip before asking for entrance which Derek willingly grants by parting his lips, Stiles mapping the cave of his mouth with the slick muscle. Derek’s holding himself perfectly still but then Stiles groans and he can feel the vibrations of it all the way down to his toes and he needs to see if Stiles tastes as good as he remembers.

Once upon a time Derek thought kissing – sex for that matter – was a battle; but with Stiles it’s like a dance, a push and pull of one leading and the other following before turning and the follower suddenly being in charge.

Maybe it’s seconds or possibly eternities later when Derek pulls himself from Stiles’ mouth placing feather light kisses to the corner of his mouth, his cheek, behind his ear and down his neck where he latches onto the pulse point, worrying the skin there marveling in the broken sounds coming from Stiles’ throat.

Stiles’ skin is warm beneath his hands as Derek tries to touch every bit of skin he can see; he plays connect-the-dots with the moles adorning his chest, combs his fingers through the treasure trail below Stiles’ navel. He marvels at the fact that even though Stiles has bulked up he can still span the width of him with both hands, revels in the way he shivers when Derek rubs his hands up and down his torso.

His thumb catches on Stiles’ right nipple and he’s rewarded with a sharp intake of breath and a spike in the scent of arousal. His gaze zeros in on the way it pebbles and he doesn’t bother with eye contact.

”Can I?”

“Anything. Anything you want, Derek.”

The last vowel of his name is drawn out and tapers off into a moan as Derek seals his mouth over the hard nub and sucks. He doesn’t let up until Stiles is reduced to whimpers, a limp hand resting in Derek’s hair as if Stiles doesn’t want him to move but is somehow too weak – or maybe just unwilling – to forcefully ensure he stays.

Once Derek’s done feasting on Stiles’ nipples he lets his mouth travel the path his hands took earlier, making sure to taste everywhere he’d touched leaving not as much as a single mole untouched as he slowly makes his way further down. Stiles is pliant beneath him, letting Derek’s movements guide him as how to move himself. Up until now Derek’s knees have been planted firmly on the outside of Stiles’ legs but the further he travels down his body the more he’s overcome with the need to see, so he carefully moves one leg at a time until there’s room for him between Stiles’ parted legs.

He bypasses Stiles’ cock – long and slender like its owner and Derek is almost drooling at the thought of getting to have it inside him – rubs his face on the thin skin at the inside of Stiles’ thighs, a satisfied rumble rising in his chest when the skin pinks prettily. He follows with kisses to the thighs, the hollow of his knees, down the calf; he steers clear of the underside of Stiles’ feet, knowing he’s terribly ticklish though he places a kiss to the arch of the foot before making his way back up, from shin to knee to thigh where he nuzzles at the crease where the leg’s attached to the body.

The smell of Stiles is overwhelmingly strong here and Derek is helpless to do anything but inhale the scent of him, rumbling happily in his chest.

Stiles’ hands against his skin, drawing patterns on his shoulders and upper back stroking down his arms as far as they can reach makes him lift his head and catch his gaze with his own. Stiles’ eyes are blown wide the pupil swallowed almost all the color in them, his body taut as a bow string as he holds himself completely still under Derek. Despite the lust rolling off of him Derek still opens his mouth to ask though Stiles answers with a smile before words can pass his lips.

“Derek.” It’s hardly more than a breath and yet it’s Stiles’ heart soul handed to him on a silver platter in that single word, and how is Derek supposed to resist that, the love and trust given to him so easily? The answer obviously being that he can and so he surges, pours everything he has, everything he is, into a kiss that leaves them both breathless as Stiles meets him halfway every bit as desperate as Derek.

Their moans echo between them passes back and forth as part of their kiss; it’s impossible who makes which sound as they’re pressing closer to each other, their bodies locked in the same slick slide as their mouths.

This time it’s Stiles breaking the contact, his hands once again coming up to frame Derek’s face.

”I need you,” he says, desperation lacing his tone. “Inside me, next to me. It doesn’t matter, I just need to have you.” His heart beats steadily. “Now,” he whimper growls before kissing Derek senseless once more.

Derek has no idea how he’s managed to get hold of the lube, let alone how he’s gotten some of it onto his fingers but it hardly matters at the sound Stiles makes when he circles the puckered skin, lathers it with the slick substance gently testing the give, and then he’s inside, barely even an inch of his finger buried in Stiles and it feels as if he’s going to explode from it.

”More,” Stiles sobs and Derek complies pushing in to the second knuckle. Stiles’ mouth is hanging open and his breath’s ragged but rather than wait he bares down taking the whole digit, Derek stares, enraptured at where he’s inside Stiles, watches the flex of his muscles as he moves, trying to ride the finger.

Derek puts his other hand on Stiles’ hip stopping his movements then withdraws his finger completely. Before Stiles can voice any objections Derek lifts the bottle of lube pouring another helping onto his finger. This time there’s no hesitation as he pushes two fingers inside Stiles.

Stiles mewls encouragingly, wordlessly telling him to speed things up. Derek leans forward causing his finger to press even deeper than before and Stiles obediently lifts his hips to grant him better access. It brings his cock closer to Derek’s mouth and he doesn’t even think about it, just opens his mouth and takes him to the root. He’s rewarded with a cry of pleasure from Stiles who’s soon rocking back unto Derek’s fingers and bucking forward into his mouth. It’s not long before his breathing shifts and Derek doesn’t need the tap against his wrist to know Stiles is going to cum.

He doesn’t pull off, simply open wider trying to get Stiles further down his throat wanting to taste everything he’s willing to give and when he clamps down on Derek’s fingers and floods his mouth Derek eagerly swallows every last drop. He doesn’t care for the consistency but it’s outweighed by the taste of Stiles exploding in his mouth, sliding down his throat as it flexes around the still hard shaft. Once there’s nothing left and Stiles is pushing at his forehead he reluctantly lets go of the flesh; he raises a questioning eyebrow while twisting his hand which Stiles answers by squeezing around the digits still exploring his hole. Derek takes it as his que to add a third.

When Derek finally withdraws his hand satisfied with the stretching he’s done and coating his own cock in a liberal amount of lube Stiles is fully hard again, his gorgeous cock standing proudly in its nest of dark curl almost as if it’s trying to lure Derek in once again. This time he refuses to fall for its wiles choosing instead to fold Stiles in half by now trusting him to voice any objections he may have.

When none comes Derek nudges against his hole applying pressure until the head of his cock is past the muscle and he’s approximately half a breath from cumming his brains out. Stiles seems to sense it as he’s stopped moving when Derek did, this time content letting the wolf set the pace. It’s equal parts amazing and torture hovering on the edge of Stiles’ body and Derek has to move so he presses closer, infinitely slow half an inch at the time until he’s sheathed to the root, his thighs against Stiles’ asscheeks. That’s when slow flies out the window.

Derek grips his hips, trying to be gentle but he knows there’re going to be marks tomorrow and he can’t help a smug smile at the thought. It drops soon though as he picks up the pace, pulls from the comforting grip of Stiles’ body just to push back inside again, again, again, while minutely trying to change the angle. He knows it’s right when Stiles practically howls and meets him thrust for frantic thrust, nothing but the squelch of lube, the slap of skin against skin and Stiles begging for release.

It’s not until the tingling at the base of his spine indicates his own immediate release that he wraps a dry hand around Stiles’ length, tugging at it in the same rhythm as he snaps his hips and together they stumble over the precipice.

~Fin~

#eternalstereksecretsanta17 #esss17 #sterek #submission #fic

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museinfusion · 4 years

Text

The Vampires

Muses

Stefan Grande; Vampire, Advisor, Fashion Designer [Fandomless, Harry Potter]

Antonio Abbandonato; Vampire, Guard [Fandomless, Harry Potter]

Demyan Volkov; Vampire, Coven Leader [Fandomless]

Dagrun Arnesdatter; Vampire, Coven Leader [Fandomless]

Relevant Muses

Valente Lansacosta; Vampire, Coven Leader

The leader of the Venetian coven. Stefan is Valente’s right hand, closest friend and oftimes lover. He and Demyan were close friends in their youth but time has strained their relationship to a tense alliance.

Estella Sinclair; Vampire, Coven Leader

Valente’s third wife and Stefan’s best friend. Estella has a lot of power and responsibility having taken her place leading the Venetian coven with Valente, however Stefan makes very sure that she regularly lets loose and gets into a little trouble. She bonded with Antonio when she was first turned and there is some tension between the two, though Antonio would never dare make a move.

NPCs

Basilio and Benedetto Lansacosta

Valente Lansacosta’s younger brothers. Twins with a nasty streak a mile wide and a grudge against their older brother due to their father’s preference for Valente that led to their leaving the Venetian coven for Rome instead.

Marino Grande

The leader of the Neapolitan Coven, Marino is - in Valente’s words - the only person who can out-Stefan Stefan. There are reasons Stefan is eighth in line and Marino has fathered all seven of them - plus one more after Stefan.

Celestina Nicchi

Celestina is Stefan’s dearly beloved mamma and one of few people who he will behave himself for, - though she is something of a wild spirit herself and definitely where Stefan got his adventurous side from, having travelled the world both before and after settling in Naples with Marino and raising Stefan. She and Stefan frequently meet up on their travels to catch up and exchange stories.

Narciso Grande

At only 16, Narciso is the newest addition to the line of Grande heirs and is right in the middle of his teenage rebellious phase. He has no real problems at home but insisted on leaving anyway, but didn’t last too long on his own and has ended up taking residence with the Venetian coven.

Amato Grande

As the eldest of Marino’s children, Amato is first in line to take over the coven of Naples and so spends much of his time by his father’s side, learning by example how to rule properly and fairly. He has much of Marino’s natural charm and wit, but is far more reserved and down-to-earth. In fact, he doesn’t quite realise how charming he is, and will often come off as flirting without intending to.

Leo Sapienti

Leo Sapienti is the oldest resident of the catacombs, having died there long before the coven took up residency. The first son of a nobleman, he was groomed for most of his life to take over the title, only to be tricked by a jealous younger brother - he was led into the catacombs as part of a supposed “game” only to be locked in, left alone until starvation took him. He is, in short, a poltergeist and whilst spending his time alone in a rage, he has somewhat calmed down since he found company in the vampires, his anger settling into something of a mischievous streak instead.

Anastasiy “Anya” Ilyich Naumov

Anya and met Stefan when he was passing through Russia on his travels and the two clicked immediately, despite being something of opposites. Anastasiy was wary when Stefan revealed his vampirism, but decided he was worth the risk, and the two had a home together for almost a decade before Stefan was discovered by the locals. The two fled in different directions, intending to meet up later, but Anastasy never showed. Stefan assumes he is dead, when in actuality he was inducted into the Moscow coven - intending to simply turn and follow Stefan to Venice. After centuries under Demyan’s abusive rule, he has developed Selective Mutism.

Cesarina and Giulia Abbandonato

Antonio’s wife and daughter that he was forced to leave behind when he was turned. He secretly went back and turned Giulia, but as this broke the rules of the coven he had to give her up for execution. He believes them both dead, but Valente took pity on the innocent child and instead sent her to Naples, where she still resides under Marino’s care.

Cédric LaRoque

Cédric LaRoque was the son of a naval captain and wanted nothing more than to be like his father. At only 17, he was just starting out his service aboard his father’s ship, when they were attacked by pirates. Cédric was taken prisoner and unwillingly began a new life as a criminal. He saw no way out until the crew made the mistake of attacking a ship with three particular passengers who would put up more than enough of a fight.

Injured in the crossfire, Cédric begged for his life and Stefan was given permission to turn him - on the condition that he would care for the boy. Two such sudden changes of pace had an effect on Cédric and to this day he is an anxious individual, but over the centuries has adjusted to life in the shadows. He lost an eye to the hunter, Friedhelm, after approximately a century.

Anacletus

Anacletus is considered the eldest vampire in existence. He is one of the children of the creator Elijah’s own fledglings and heralded by many as a power that cannot be rivalled. By some good fortune, he has avoided the eventual descent into madness that many of the elders of their kind succumb to and served as coven leader to the globe’s largest coven in Egypt until the age of Enlightenment. As covens spread and territory wars began invoking among their kind, Anaclectus constructed a council of all coven leaders to harness some form of control over the growing numbers and mediate the powers that each possessed. Many warring covens will be pulled before him if they threaten to expose their kind to humanity and discussions will be held to try and resolve the issue. Additionally, if any issues come to light that may threaten their kind on a mass scale, he will summon the leaders for talks on how to address it.

Zhen Demyanovich

Zhen was admired by Demyan in the early 16th Century for his unique skills as a prized torturer who accompanied a visiting Chinese dignitary. After observing an especially horrific display performed by the man, Demyan decided to recruit him as one of his own coven. Both possessing the sadistic pleasures of watching another desperately try to clutch to their last breath of life, they soon became close. Zhen performs duties similar to that of an advisor, ensuring Demyan remains informed about important issues and people, whilst also acting as head of the little entourage their leader surrounds himself with. He is highly intelligent and charming, a perfect rival to Stefan who explicitly illustrates his hatred for him.

Nikolai Demyanovich Volkov

Demyan’s son and future ruler of the Moscow coven, Demyan was born a human and kept away from the coven by his mother until Demyan’s eventual death. There was an issue of who would take over the coven after him and Nikolai’s mother brought him forward as a candidate and after some time he was accepted into the role, being turned Anacletus. Many were wary of letting Demyan’s son rule, expecting a carbon copy of the tyrant, but - whilst he did apparently inherit his father’s flare for the lavish and extravagant - Nikolai turned out to be a good, fair ruler, putting an end to Demyan’s cruel habits such as torturing humans and keeping them as edible pets, as well as re-establishing a group of advisors.

Friedhelm Ruth

An unusual and highly unexpected member of the Neapolitan coven - Friedhelm was originally a vampire hunter and had made a good career for himself, working for over a decade throughout Germany, Italy and his home country of Switzerland. His career came to a sudden end when a mission of his turned sour. He manage to injure and nearly captured Cédric - a fledgling of Stefan’s - but was himself caught and hauled off to Naples to be kept an eye on.

At first he held nothing but distaste for his new lodgings and made several unsuccessful escape attempts before resigning himself to his imprisonment. Marino made many attempts to talk to him, to explain that vampires only did what they had to in order to survive - most of the time, anyway. It took over a decade and much stubbornness on both sides, but a friendship gradually formed, and in turn a relationship and, eventually, Friedhelm agreed to let Marino turn him and become a member of the coven.

Since then many a rumour has spread between hunters of what could have happened for one of their kind to join their sworn enemies, and this has resulted in Marino’s favour - most hunters now give Naples a wide berth, for fear that they might meet the same fate.

Nonno

One of the elders of the Venetian coven, “Nonno” - whose real name has somehow been lost to time - stands out in more ways that one. Firstly, he doesn’t feed as often as he should, resulting in a shrivelled appearance much of the time (though he surprises many by being rather handsome when he does finally get around to hunting) and secondly, by being much more approachable than any of the other elders.

In life, Nonno was a kind, clever, genuine man, meeting and befriending Valente’s father, Vittorio in Rome and, upon discovering his dark secret, simply shrugged, placing their friendship first. Eventually he began to age and die and was offered a place in the coven and accepted, becoming a part of the council, eventually introducing Vittori to his eventual wife, Elisabetta.

He is one of few people Valente trusted Estella with in her early fledgling years, and he quickly gained her trust too as an uncle or grandfather figure, somebody who had no ulterior motives towards her. He does have a cheeky side and, when he can be bothered to feed, is actually something of a playboy, happy to let Estella’s handmaidens flock around him.

#{Stefan}#{Antonio}#{Demyan}#{Dagrun}#{Valente}#{Estella}#{The Roman Coven}#{The Neapolitan Coven}#{The Venetian Coven}#{The Moscow Coven}

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