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blackcatruse · 5 months ago

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𝔣𝔯𝔬𝔪 𝔞𝔰𝔥𝔢𝔰

«prev. ❃ next» ❃ first chapter ❃ m.list ❃ ao3 pairing: r. haitani/fem!reader ↳ she/her, fem descriptors, nickname ❃ chapter synopsis: brunch with the haitanis and trying to figure out who's after the three deities. a normal day, actually. word count: 1.9k chapter cw(s): swearing, possible ooc a/n: you'll never guess who was so excited to start posting ashes on tumblr that she forgot to mention that this is an AU if you couldn't already tell :'D it loosely follows the Three Deities and Kanto Manji → Bonten pipeline. there is no timeleaping

You weren’t a stranger to emotional whiplash, but if someone told you that you’d be casually lounging with the Haitani brothers on their turf, you’d laugh in their face. Yet, here you were. To any normal person, hanging out with people that had beat you bloody a few weeks ago was an incomprehensible thought, but to you it was just another Tuesday.

Were you suspicious of their motives? Undoubtedly. Did you care? Not when the older Haitani had offered to buy you food. You may be a fuck up, but you weren’t an idiot. Free food was free food. And that’s how you ended up here at a quaint little bakery sitting across from the Haitani brothers. Ran was at least trying to make conversation between savoring bites of his mont blanc. Rindou stared out the window like he’d rather be anywhere else. If you were being honest, you wished he was too. But Ran and Rindou were a package deal whether you liked it or not. Couldn’t find one without encountering the other.

Your fork clinked against your plate as you cut into the crepe you had ordered. The sweetness permeated in your mouth as you took a bite and the tang of berries countered with a tart harmony. It took everything in you to not moan at the taste. After living off of cup noodles and prepackaged bento, something like this was a delicacy you wouldn’t take for granted. Part of you started to dream about everything you’d eat once you were free.

A jarring ring disrupted the quiet air and tamped down the beginnings of your daydream. Sighing, you grabbed your phone from your pocket and stared at the unknown caller ID. “Gotta take this,�� you said, flipping your phone open and pinning the phone between your ear and shoulder.

“Suzaku, what’s up?” You twiddled with your fork between your fingers.

“Lotus what the hell are you doing?”

“Pleasant as always,” you remarked. “I told you, I’m following a lead on this case. I think it could be important.”

“You have three days.”

“Yeah, so keep it cool for three days,” you told him, rolling your eyes. You tapped the prongs of your fork against the plate and you bounced your leg. “I don’t know why you’re rushing me, it’s not like it’s your ass on the line.”

“And you’re my subordinate. Do you know how hard it was to convince Kirin to let you do whatever the hell it is you’re doing?”

It was true that Suzaku was sticking his neck out for you, but it didn’t change the fact that at the end of the day, all the fault would fall on you. As it always did. You sighed. “Yeah, I know. I’ll meet with you tomorrow and let you know what I find.”

Suzaku was cut off as you ended the call. You stabbed at your crepe again before looking up to see both Haitani brothers looking at you. Right. Well, it wasn’t like you gave anything away.

“Trouble in paradise?” Ran asked, resting his chin in his hand.

“Ew, gross,” you snorted. “Suzaku’s been hounding me for results or else he’s shipping me back to where I came from.”

“Hell?”

You and Ran turned your heads to look at the younger Haitani. He didn’t look smug or tired or anything. His face was unreadable. You blinked a few times and a grin broke out on Ran’s face. You didn’t miss the glare that Rindou gave his older brother.

“Ha! You’re funny,” you said, pointing your fork at Rindou. “I wish he was sending me to hell instead. It’d probably be way cozier.”

You set the fork down before they could realize your hands had started shaking. You had a persona you had to keep up, after all. Putting a hand over your face, you groaned in exasperation before regaining your composure. “So,” you said, looking the brothers in the eye. “Why call me out here?”

“What? We can’t be friendly?” Ran’s shit-eating grin was borderline antagonistic.

“No, actually,” you deadpanned.

“That’s probably the smartest thing that’s come out of your mouth,” Rindou muttered, barely loud enough for you to catch.

You picked up your fork and jabbed it at him. “Shut it.” Another breath to rein in your irritation. “The job still doesn’t have a date, so something else is going on here.”

Ran tilted his head. Annoyance flashed behind his eyes as a lazy smile returned to his face. Rindou kept on glaring at you. Truly the peace between enemies could never remain. Not that it was surprising, but it did take longer than you’d originally thought for things to get this tense. They couldn’t kill you yet and you couldn’t tell if you should lament or exalt the fact.

“Did you find anything on your faux deals?” you asked, returning to your crepe.

“Nothing,” Ran answered. “They said they didn’t know who hired them. Whoever it was covered their tracks too well.”

“Yeah, our guys said the same. But they had an extra layer of people in between the people they were blackmailing and the ones who gave the orders. I tracked down the blackmailers but they didn’t know anything. They met at odd hours and never came face to face with the boss.”

You wouldn’t say that you had expected this to be easy, but you’d at least hoped for something. You had gotten ahold of Kichiro and that’s how you’d found the people blackmailing him and Hifumi, but those people didn’t get you any further. Without information, you were going to have to move to Plan B, which was risky. You wanted to avoid involving Kichiro and Hifumi more than necessary, but in order to get the one pulling the strings, you’d have to fall into the web.

Imagining that meeting with the Four Symbols made you chuckle. You doubted they’d approve of it. Hell, three of them didn’t even believe that there was a plot to get rid of the Three Deities. They would be stupid to try anything, you could hear Byakko’s snide comments. You could feel his eyes roam over your body without him being there. A shiver ran through your body. Yeah, this was ridiculous. You bit off more than you could chew. You would die before you got your freedom.

Ran snapped his fingers in front of your face, bringing you out of your spiraling thoughts. “What’s going on in that pretty little head?”

“Just thinkin’ about how much shit I’m gonna be in,” you answered honestly. You didn’t really see a point in lying to them. You didn’t possess any knowledge that would be of use. “Though,” you laughed at yourself bitterly, “that’s no different than how things have been.”

“Can we help?”

This time, you and Rindou snapped your attention to Ran. “What?!” Rindou all but screeched.

“Why the fuck are you offering? What’s the catch?” you asked warily.

“Consider it something like insurance,” Ran said lazily. “We can’t get our big jobs done if you’re out of commission. If we can’t do the jobs, we won’t get the money that would bring us to the top. The logical thing would be to help you overcome this so our plans don’t get messed up. It also works in our favor because more than likely, your setup and our phony deals are connected.”

You certainly didn’t doubt that. Having the Haitani brothers’ help on this investigation could give you promising results, but there was no more time for sleuthing. You had to weave a delicate trap and get answers that way. You would have to use Kichiro and Hifumi as bait, and you’d really hoped to avoid that.

“I can’t promise your safety,” you admitted to the two teens sitting across from you. “I’ve minimized your role as much as possible, and hopefully once you’re done, they’ll leave you alone.”

“They’ve been hounding us since our negotiations came to a standstill. I don’t think they had much patience to begin with, but it’s wearing thinner and thinner.”

This was the first time you’d met Hifumi, and you thought that he was gloomy. Dark, unkempt hair and even darker eye bags were his most distinguishing features. Kichiro sat next to his friend and kept wringing his hands. You wished you could tell them that it would be okay, but you weren’t about to lie to them. Even with your best efforts, there was the looming possibility that these two boys could be killed before they reached adulthood. Would this plan only prolong the inevitable?

You shook your head. No, you couldn’t let yourself think that. “All right, you can tell them that a deal has finally been made. I wrote some random numbers that you can give them to make it sound better. Don’t give any sort of hint away that we know what’s going on.” You handed a scrap of paper over to Hifumi, who took it with trembling hands.

Continuing on, you debriefed them, “There will be three other runners besides me. They’re among the top in Suzaku’s division, so your client doesn’t need to worry about the job getting done. When talking to them, be sure to get the locations they want the deal to occur, how much we’ll be carrying, passwords, who we’ll be meeting with, and whatnot. The more detailed the better, but whatever they give us will be useful.”

“Will it work?” Kichiro asked quietly.

“I don’t know,” you said plainly. “I’m trying to get as much of the burden off you as possible, but if whoever’s pulling the strings gets suspicious, there isn’t much I can do.”

“And Wuxing agreed to this?” Hifumi looked you in the eyes. There was nothing behind the depths of his eternal stare.

“It took some convincing,” you told him. “But they’re willing to cooperate. If this goes awry, then it’s my fault. I’ll take the brunt of it.”

You didn’t really want to be a hero or a savior or a martyr. If you were a more selfish person, you’d just let the stupid kids get what they had coming. But you weren’t a more selfish person. Your stupid bleeding heart took too much pity on kids who shouldn’t be tangled in this transition from delinquency to crime syndicates. You would do everything you could to make sure that Kichiro and Hifumi never see the underworld of Tokyo again, but there was truly no guarantee anything would work. If something happened to them... Well, you weren’t a stranger to guilt either. You’d just carry it like you always do.

“When you get what we need to know, call me. Once everything is coordinated between us, you guys stay out of it. Lay low. Skip town. I don’t care, just get out of here.” You snapped your gum loudly and put your feet up on the table.

“If we leave, won’t that tip them off that we’re up to something?” Kichiro finally looked up at you as he asked his question.

“Yeah, I guess it wouldn’t look the best.” You rubbed the back of your head. “Well, we’re just gonna have to hope that when we get to the bottom of things, you’ll be left alone.”

Hifumi snorted with a cynical scoff. Normally you’d snap at someone who did that to you, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to blame him. Everything was a gamble here and even if the risks felt low, anything was possible out on the streets. Hope for the best, but prepare for the worst. It was almost your mantra at this point.

Please do not reupload, translate, or steal my work! If it isn't here or on my ao3, it's not me! Likes & reblogs appreciated! <3 Dividers courtesy of @/cafekitsune & @/firefly-graphics

#ruse’s ashes #x reader fanfic #rindou haitani x reader #reader insert #tokyo revengers reader insert #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers ocs #rindou x reader

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aita-blorbos · 1 year ago

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my friends directed me to this blog to see what people would think about my situation. theyre fully supportive, but wanna see what tumblr thinks, i guess.

aita for killing the person who murdered my family, and then killing my rich abusive adoptive father?

hi. im like, 19. or 20. i lost count. i dont care about gender, but i guess im male and use he/him. anyway. when i was around 10, there was a break and enter into my house. we were getting robbed. the robber killed my mom and dad, while i snuck into the kitchen do grab a kitchen knife. i stabbed him in the back and took his gun while he was stunned. i was scared to use it, so instead i just kept stabbing him until he stopped breathing. great childhood, i know.

anyway, after that, i was all alone. i didnt know where my brother went, and my parents were dead. we didnt really have an extensive family, so there were no funerals, and there was no one to take care of me. so for a while i just roamed the streets. some random guy saw me, and seeing a kid covered in blood probably isnt the most normal thing, so he ran up to ask if i was ok. he brought me to an orphanage, where i stayed for a while. eventually, my second "dad" (i dont even want to call him that. hes a disgrace compared to my real father, even calling him a parent feels disrespectful) came to the orphanage to adopt a kid. said kid was me. i was happy, cause id finally have a home again, and he was rich! i would be spoiled, and given a wonderful life for the trauma i had to go through.

i was wrong, though. the guy who adopted me was a prick. he was a rich scumbag who only thought about others if it meant he could say bad things about them. he was negligent, and would sometimes hit me. he got drunk all the time, and usually i was left alone in his huge house, only having the occasional housemaid to care for me. whenever i see pictures of the interiors of huge houses or mansions it gives me chills. anyway, after all this bullshit, i finally thought enough was enough. i still carried a few knives on me ever since the incident, in case something bad happened again. at night when no one except the two of us were in the house, i stabbed him in the heart while he was sleeping. i took all his money, and figured if worst comes to worst, i could pay my way out of being punished for murder. fortunately, that wasnt even necessary. when i called 911 pretending like i had no idea what happened, none of the officers even touched me. no one had a clue i had the weapon. it was eventually ruled down to a robber that got away, ironically enough.

after all this, i inherited all of his shit. all the money, the whole house, and all his stupid rich guy bullshit (think yachts, fancy cars). it was all mine. i turned the house into a housing unit, letting anyone who wanted to to live in it (like the homeless or people who needed to get away from an abusive household), given how huge it was. seriously, it felt like a palace in a disney movie. i sold all the shit he had that i didnt care about, or gave it away for free to others. i donate frequently to charity. i make sure i dont keep too much money for myself at a time, and i dont buy stupid things that i dont actually need. i dont want to become like him.

alright, so heres the final question. i know some people think murder is unacceptable, no matter how evil the victim is, that my parents may be watching me from the stars with hatred, and that rich peolle are assholes. but im trying my best to be a good person.

am i the asshole?

#aita #am i the asshole #unreality #child abuse #child neglect

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coolbutnotthere · 8 months ago

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Ok well, for the past like three years I’ve been role playing with my bestie and we started a new rp recently. But a very common thing in our rp’s are the thinks that we both watch such as Soni, Hellava boss and hazbin hotel . Sometimes ill add stuff to make it more interesting but that’s the basic and an oc I have Raspberry is like a fusion between sonic and shadow because Sonic is kind of plot important (not really) and shadow is my fave so know they have to deal with this genetically modified kid that grows by the month because their was a tube failure and by the way in the Rp and most Rp’s I do with my bestie involved the ship of SonicxShadow but we decided for them to not be a couple before hand and you know what that means?! Shadow being a jerk to my hell hound Ogen because he had to deal with my main ocs Alemesha’s bull crap and got real injured because of it. Honestly I think Shadow purposefully antagonizes him at the is point because like most of my other experiments he wears a collar which in short it a very strange version of a shock collar but because shadow (and tails 100%) is my favorite he wanted it to look like Ogen was attacking him so the collar would go off so ya Shadow’s rep with Ogen is down and is more likely to not be accommodated for or taken care of by Ogen which he does with everyone in the household because he’s more house husband that works. So ya when actual enemies get introduced Shadow is definitely gonna get stabbed at some point in time because Ogen didn’t want to shield him or do anything to stop the attack from happening… But ya Shadow is screwed over know and is still my favorite little angst emo hedgehog but I shall be a-lot tougher with him on this from know on.

Anyway thanks for letting me rant id you would like to know more about this rp I'm in feel free to ask i find it entertaining and i am happy to share my plans for this rp

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whiteoutzz · 9 months ago

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so this post... yeah i am having alot of fun. yeah nobody can stop me and once im done with the script i might just get to the longfic i have planned. yeah its fun

[id: drawing of Arctic and Darkstalker standing in front of eachother; both of them have pointy shapes, with darkstalker's mane being much shorter and covering only the neck, while Arctic's covers the whole chest. Both of them have tufts on their foreheads and are looking at eachother angrily, Arctic bit more reserved while Darkstalker's anger is louder. Arctic has his wings pinned down while Darkstalker's are standing up. Arctic has blue string tied around his snout, while darkstalker has blue stitches around his mouth. Behind them there is a blue web on top of a purple background; but what covers most of it is a silhouette of Queen diamond, pure white with blue eyes, her wings spread out, iron crown with blue gems embedded in it. / end id]

(putting the story under the cut; cw for torture)

the general story is; before darkstalker kills arctic, he gets a vision clear enough it makes him stop. he sees his mother foeslayer, knowing she is alive. arctic still confessed but isn't physically harmed yet; clearsight confirms the vision but looks bit sad and confused, like she is hiding something from him, but can't tell why. darkstalker rips out bit of his scroll, but rest is confiscated so he can only cast few spells (breaking it would have similar effect; his spells would be very limited and small). he lets arctic go but follows him to the ice kingdom, enchanting himself to be invisible. he follows him for a while before getting distracted and eventually finds the tunnels; he frees foeslayer but almost as soon she is gone (and protected; he made sure to word the spell so she can't be taken back. he put it directly on her after all) and is caught by queen diamond. arctic is forced to marry snowflake again, and both of them are very miserable about it. its horrible. meanwhile darkstalker gets tortured in the caves. first diamond couldnt hurt him physically, but quickly she figured that one; he didnt make himself unable to feel pain, and two; he forgot to enchant his insides too. spell loopholes and all that she enchants him so his organs regenerate no matter how damaged, so he cant die trough that type of injury then stabs him through the mouth. she figures out more and more creative ways to hurt him later. one day she brings arctic, thinking that would be his final push, to kill his own son, but she is almost surprised how little arctic cares about darkstalker. he stabs him trough the mouth but inside arctic feels bit weird about it, especially seeing his son bleed blue. but he does not think about that. or tries to atleast.

but he tries to figure out a plan, especially that he was allowed to visit darkstalker after that, seeing that care wasnt there and he could be used as a tool of torture. but maybe he doesnt want his life to end like that. he offers darkstalker to make a plan to escape, but first he refuses. also maybe tries to talk with snowflake and while both still hate echother and snowflake is still rightfully angry for what arctic did to her, maybe they have shred of solidarity for once. and you know the whole thing with both of them already having partners and you know. things look bad but maybe darkstalker at some point will want out enough that he will agree to the plan, but for now; to be continued

(also "oooh why arctic now wants to escape even if he came back willingly?" sometimes u forget how bad things were until you experience them again)

(meanwhile in night kingdom there is a civil war happening, but i dont have details about it yet. but its fun)

#wof #wings of fire #wof au #wings of fire au #wof darkstalker #wof arctic #torture #snowart #crunch au

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hunted-moth · 2 years ago

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Forest Of Dreams Part One: A Shit Place

Summary// after the death of your older brother tom, you and Jake talk about life and catch up

Word Count// 1.3k words( 1,317 idk how to shorten it :| )

Warnings// Cursing, death(toms “funeral” and how he died), Bad writing(maybe), drinking, small fight scene- let me know if I should add anything else -3-

A/N // I want to be gay with Neytiri and I can only find poly reader stuff :’) so I’m writing it myself! But beware I’m dyslexic and had shit education so if it’s weird to read that’s why. Oh and the banner was made by me but the pics are from the game pandora rising and a clip from the movie

“YO TOM, I'M HOME, YA HERE?”

you said walking through the door, silence. ‘Strange, But oh well he's a grown man after all. He can do what he wants” you thought

as you walk to the kitchen to get something to eat and grab a drink. As you got to the fridge you saw a note:

‘Went to the store be right back for more food :D’

“oh, so that's where he is,” saying out loud. You open the fridge and grabbed a pop and a pudding cup and go to plop down on the couch. You just got back from your avatar training. You were going to Pandora as a Xenogeologist. you did ok with said training but the language was a bit difficult to grasp.

you finished the snack and opened a laptop to study and practice said language, but just as you were about to start, a knock at the door interrupted. A sigh escaped your lips as you got up and opened the door with some sass.

“Are you Y/N Sully” two men in suits greeted you at the door, “yeah what do you want?” attitude rolled off your tongue

“Is your brother Tom Sully, age 22”, “yeah, what about him?” you asked warily

“He’s dead, stabbed in a mugging gone wrong,” one agent said with zero emotion as if he had said it a dozen times already, “he's at the morgue if you'd like to see him,” the other said

At the morgue, you looked down at the box that was about to be pushed into the inferno you tried calling jake but he never answered

you looked over to see that none other than your older brother jake rolled in with two agents.

“We're looking for Sully T” the agent's voice boomed, you recognized them as an RDA agent.

“Yeah over here”.

“Jesus Tommy” “yeah, two cops came to our place, said he was stabbed by some thug for his cash” was all that was said between the two.

You heard the two agents talk to Jake about replacing Tom in the avatar program. You just tuned it out and thought of what to do, you had three days till you were shipped out. you had just graduated college a few months ago, so had a shit ton of free time. Then a thought popped into your head.

“Hey Jake, wanna go get a drink?” a smirk formed on your lips

“what? Aren't you 20 though” jakes face was confused, both from the fact he was already drunk and the fact you were two years younger than him

but with a shit-eating grin, you pulled out your wallet to show your fake ID

“don't worry, i'll be fine,” you said with a smile

“Jesus N/N” jake couldn't help but chuckle

“Relax, besides I turn 21 in a few months. Plus we get shipped out in three days, so why not live a little”

He only shook his head with a smile “fine” was his final answer

“nice let's go to this bar I know, two streets down I think”

Location–Cherry Tops Bar

“TO TOMMY” both of you toasted to his memory, then took a swig of the liquor

“So how’d you get a fake id,” he asked “ahh I knew some art majors back in college, had them whipped one up for me when I was 18”

“Good lord Y/N, you graduate high school at 16 with that brain of yours and you get an id to drink”

“Hey, at least I waited, 'cause I seem to remember you coming home drunk” pointing out his hypocrisy seemed to get a laugh outta ya.

Growing up it was just you three, so, of course, you'd pick up both traits of your brothers

“So how ya been anyway,” you asked Jake, the two of you hadn't talked in months. Jake sighed saying

“same old same old,” he said with a gloomy face

“ah well, that's gonna change in about three days and about 6 years from now” you both laughed with jake returning your question to you

“oh you know, I finished college about two months ago, Zoe and I broke up, and got my ears stretched” “oh you and Zoe broke up?” “yeah, just didn't feel anything anymore, plus I'm leaving for what 16-18 years so might as well call it off,” you said with a neutral expression, sure she was a nice girl beautiful too. There just wasn’t anything there anymore

As you and Jake were getting caught up in your lives, you felt a hand on your shoulder. You looked over to see some dude looking down at you with a stupid smile clearly drunk. You recognized him as a former classmate, he was a known creep who'd get up in everyone's space

“Ya need something dude?” there was a hint of annoyance in your tone as you shrugged off his hand

“yeah, Just need you in my bed tonight” he wore a sleazy grin while looking at your chest

“ah sorry man, I already got your Ma in mine, can't keep her waiting, right bro,” you said as you looked at your brother to continue your joked

“yeah sis, let's bounce and go to yours,” he said with a playful smirk

Obviously, he was a momma's boy and didn’t take kindly to calling his mom a whore as he looked at the two of you, he looked like he was about to punch you, and when he eventually did, you swung back faster.

Knocking him to the ground. His buds went to help him by knocking you down but Jake had your back by wheeling into them. You straddled the guy getting a few licks in before you were pulled off by the bouncer and you and Jake were thrown out. You got up laughing while helping Jake up.

“Why don't you crash at my place till it's time to go, bet you still live in that shoe box” you offered

“Yeah sure, i'll head to my place and pack up tomorrow” he agreed, and started rolling away

“sounds like a plan”

Location– Y/Ns and Tom's apartment

The apartment was small but still bigger than jakes. It had two rooms and a closed bathroom but was still small though with little space for anything else, but since Y/N and Tom were out of the house all the time it didn't matter.

“Hmm kinda cozy” jake commented

“Yeah, and pretty cheap for what it is. You can sleep on the couch ". You moved the coffee table so Jake could have a place for his wheelchair. Then retired to your room to sleep. As you were sleeping, you had a dream, you were in a jungle. You heard giggling and it ran off as you chased it into the forest. Then you woke up.

Location– Jakes Place

In the morning you and Jake went to his place to help him pack up.

“wow, I really do forget that you literally live in a shoe box” you looked around his place, it was an open floor plan, and very cramped

“shut up,” Jake said as he pinched you

“OW,” you yelped.

It was a quick activity as he didn't have much to his name. As you two head to your house you thought about the dream again. Jake noticed and asked:

“Hey, what's up? Been spacing off all morning,” he asked concerned

“hmm oh nothing, had that forest dream again,” you said nonchalantly as if it was breathing

“Wow, this is like what? The hundredth time” he joked. You've been having this dream since you were a kid. Sometimes you'd be flying, running, or swimming after someone. Your mother always said that it was god giving you dreams of the past, but you wrote it off as just a random recurring dream, stemming from the fact you like nature.

Jake only nodded as you two made it to your door. You decided to order some food and just relax for the day.

It felt weird to you, Jake and Tom were identical twins, but Jake had longish hair. So seeing him do the same routine as Tommy gave you a sense of Deja Vu.

Once you finished you retired to your room to get some studying in and rest. As of tomorrow, you and Jake would be put in cryosleep as you journeyed to pandora.

Next // PT 2 New Life New Dreams

Previous // N/A

Taglist//

//Masterlist//

A/N// First chapter :D good god is this short, this also might be bad…but oh well you start from somewhere lol and it will be longer lol

I've got some ideas for pt 2 but if you have some feel free to give them to me. Oh and this fic was inspired by ‘Dream Girl’ by omgkatherine01. Like I said inspired so some things might by similar haha

#neytiri x reader #x reader #jakes and reader are siblings #avatar x reader #neytiri x avatar reader #neytiri #jake sully #avatar #james cameron #james cameron avatar #wlw #lesbian paring

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someone-always-cares · 1 year ago

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chapter 5, page 39

first - previous - next

[image description: an sac webcomic page. “i’m fine- i- i just want to leave” lewis stutters, hunched in on himself. “okay, let’s go” moon replies, holding her cane with both hands on her lap. the panel angle now showing that she’s floating above the floor, while lewis gets off the couch. meanwhile split second is leaning back and looking over at izumi, the two having a side conversation. “when the fuck did you get there?” izumi asks. “time is my bitch” they reply with a deadpan expression. “that answers nothing, thanks” “you really think you’re going to get anywhere without my help?” parker asks with an angry, feral grin. “you dont need to listen to him-” moon states off screen before being interrupted. “no, really. go ahead, i’ll give you the address, do your best” end id]

the lack of update last week was due to con crunch as i was trying to finish my cosplay for mcm london- i was still fucking about with superglue on the tube there and spend half an hour once inside just going fuck it and stabbing the edge of my armour to just tie it together with string since the contact adhesive wasnt doing it fast enough and the superglue was too runny and the duct tape and masking tape wouldnt work even if i had tried and sewing foam together would probably take too long so stabbing it and tying it together with old hoodie string, other string, and scrap fabric was the best option. yes i had all that on me at the time i was worried and sleep deprived (stayed up until 4/5am working on it)

anyway people did like my cosplay so it worked, pics under cut

i was watching the owl house a month and a bit ago in the background while drawing but i got emotionally attached because my autism snatched that shit up like a dog grabbing something and thinking its play time when you tell him to drop it. anyway i was cosplaying hunter and made a little plushie flapjack. it was. pretty warm in there. also idk if i should make more bird plushies because i did make an attempt to make flapjack with free tutorials or without a pattern and that went badly to i did cave and buy a pattern. but i still have that £9 pattern and plenty of stuffing and way too much scrap fabric

[id: a mostly fullbody selfie taken of my in cosplay in a small tunnel filled with mirrors and neon lights]

[id: a picture taken of myself holding a plushie flapjack]

[id: a selfie taken in cosplay of my masked face holding up plushie flapjack]

#sac #someone always cares #webcomic #webcomics #original comic

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halleyuhm · 2 years ago

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Manuscript search tag game!

I was tagged by @oh-no-another-idea to find the following words in my WIPs: chocolate, eavesdropping, grief, gay, and super. Beware of little spoilers!

I'm tagging @e-klair @faeveries @rosellemoon and anyone who'd like to participate! This is such a fun tag game, so the more, the merrier. Tag me so I can read your excerpts!

Your words are oblivious, whimsical, queen, mess, and, in honor of the Ides of March, stab.

Here are mine :)

Chocolate, Lunática (rough translation from Spanish)

Cold sweat still drops down my neck, even colder than the snow melting on my skin, but I'm able to breathe again, and the colors have recovered their brightness. Tiaré's hands haven't left my knees. She only takes them off to clean my tears away. The loving touch rips a sob out of me. "I'm sorry. For the panic attack in the middle of nowhere." "For what?" She lets out a sarcastic laugh. "Honestly, Lex, this is the last thing you should be apologizing for. What about having us both out here in the middle of a snowstorm? Or the whole wolf drama and the lies? That's a good starting point if you want forgiveness. Oh, and the bitchy move of taking out your hearing aids so you couldn't hear me complaining? Doesn't that deserve an apology? Or an explanation for that time you were gone four d—" "I get it! Can I invite you to a hot chocolate next weekend and explain? Because it's too long of a story to tell when we are minutes away from dying."

Evaesdropping, By the stars foretold

"You were following me the whole time!?" Ruby's wrath sends a shiver down Zak's back. A rush of primordial power envelops her aura, even if her erratic hand movements betray she's not aware of the energy coursing through her veins. Zak takes a step back. The unpredictable nature of the Fæ is dangerous by itself, but Ruby has no magical knowledge nor, even worse, does she know what she's capable of. "Calm down, Resha" he whispers, holding his hands up even though he would much rather punch her unconscious. "A fight in the Academy will get me expelled and you killed." "I don't care! Nothing is worse than knowing you saw—" She sucks air between her teeth, swaying back and forth with the dragon dagger dancing in her fingers. "Was it fun, Zak? Was it fun eavesdropping on the poor boy with no legs and his desperate sister? Was it like one of your books? Or was the story so boring you will burn it to the ground as you do with everything else?"

Grief, Route LXVI

Her face is rounder than the last time I saw her and, although dark bags rim her long eyelashes, her irises sparkle with joyful hues of golden in green. There's remorse, sadness, something that resembles deep grief when she looks at me. But there's also that glimmer of hope, and that's what sinks my stomach into the abyss.

Gay, Route LXVI

"Okay, and what about...?" Gray leaves the question hanging for such an awkward amount of time I believe he wants me to finish it for him. I grab a lock of hair to braid it but realize I can't do it with just one hand, and I hold the sheets to control the trembles instead. "What about the videos?" I suggest. "No, I don't think they deserve much attention. Whatever you do in your free time is your choice, you know? I'm more worried about..." "Gray, please, you are making me nervous." "Your feelings," he blurts out. "For me." "Oh." I pinch the bridge of my nose to hold in a burning headache. "Okay, that was the most horrible lie ever. I thought it would be ideal if we fell in love with each other because that would add up to my perfect persona. So I pretended I liked you... It's so embarrassing. I'm sorry if it made you uncomfortable." "It's okay," Gray almost sings when he reassures me. "I was anxious about having to reject you." I gasp and place my hand on my chest as if I was offended. "Would you reject this gorgeous, honest-to-goodness human being? I'm shocked you are—" "Gay," he laughs. "I'm gay. But I would have said 'no' either way because I'm not into blondies." Maeve bends in two and drops the phone, choking on laughter.

Super.

Apparently, I haven't written this word in any of my WIPs except for an unpublished Attack on Titan fanfic, so there you have a bit of angst ._.

"I don't have a damn clue," she says. And when Reiner doesn't reply, she continues."At first, I thought I was right because I was searching for freedom. Such a noble quest! And when I realized you were also searching for freedom but from another perspective, I held to the thought that maybe my way was the best one. But I guess there's a point where boundaries get blurry and right and wrong mix up. And there's no time to try and discern something precise and simple in that mess. Probably what you're looking for doesn't even exist." "So what do you fight for?" She sadly smiles. "To protect those I love. Isn't that enough? You don't have to be a superhero: there are so many things worth fighting for with your bare fists. You can't see it because you are deep in a dark hole, but there's so much love in the world shining for you, waiting for you."

Thanks! That's all for now 💜

#writeblr #writing #writers of tumblr #writblr #writeblr community #my wips #angst #tw panic attack #happy ides of march #am writing #wip: lxvi #wip: stars #wip: luna

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noras-ac-shenanigans · 2 years ago

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Assassins Creed/Stargate

crossover snippets

Again inspired by Esama on AO3, I just have a few bits of a story I wrote but don’t have the plot/motivation to finish. So on the low chance anyone wants to take what I’ve already written and use it, feel free! Just please credit me for the parts I’ve done and let me know so I can read it!

Speech Guide:

“Normal Speech”

*Goa-uld Speech*

‘Thought’

“Telepathy”

>Non-English language<

//Radio//

——————————————————————————

Desmond... was so utterly screwed.

Not like when he’d first run away and realized he had about 70 miles between him and anywhere he could find a ride.

Not like when he made it to a city and discovered that getting a job was a lot harder without any kind of ID than he’d thought it’d be.

Not even when he had to stitch up a stab wound on his own leg from an attempted mugging because there were no clinics and hospitals would want his records.

No, this was so much more screwed that he was pretty sure only the poor schmucks before him had gotten it worse. Or better, maybe, since at least the freaky alien brain snake that got shoved into their mouths either killed them right away or allowed them to take an ‘alternative exit’ because they weren’t cowards like him. Clay had grabbed the first sharp object he’d known would do the job and just started slashing himself up so much that nothing these assholes could do would save him, it hurt but not as much, please, make it stop! MaKe IT SToP!!

Desmond jolted off the bed with a gasp, the phantom feeling of choking and burning interrupted by the pain of landing on the floor, hard, and shit, yeah, that hurt.

Groaning, he shoved himself stubbornly to his feet, leaning back a bit against the bed when the world kinda... swayed, or, blurred, or both, before he felt something flex in the muscles along his neck and the pain and dizziness and the previously-unnoticed nausea went away. A gust of air escaped him as he let himself sag down onto the edge of the bed, relief temporarily causing him to forget about his situation.

“Hello, Young One.”

Aaaaaand there goes the nice fuzzy feeling. Desmond’s eyes widen in shock as he springs to his feet to spin in a circle, scanning the room for the speaker, or at least an intercom.

Nothing.

‘Greeeeaaaat. Going nuts already. Even the worst of them got at least a few days before they lost it.’

Amusement.

“You are not going crazy, Desmond. You are just the first to have pure enough genetics for me to properly communicate.”

‘Uhhh, what?!’

Fond Exasperation

“I can see you haven’t had time to process everything yet. Please, lay back down, and I will explain.”

Desmond hesitated, but... really, even if this was all in his head, at least it was something to distract from why he was there, what these nut jobs would do to him...

Desmond flopped back onto the bed, face hidden in the pillow to keep the not-so-hidden cameras from seeing his reactions. He wasn’t sure of much, but he did know that none of the others had heard a voice like this one. Given the lengths they went through to try to get info out of their previous ‘Subjects’, Desmond didn’t want them to figure out he wasn’t going batshit just yet.

A chuckle went through his head (yeah, not weird at all) before the voice started up again. It had a very... strange accent, like someone couldn’t decide on one and just went with all of them instead. It wavered between, with a few he recognized as middle eastern and Italian and maybe a bitta Russian occasionally too. It was just weird, okay, he didn’t need to be analyzing a probably-hallucinated voice in his brain!

“Ah, yes. You will be very entertaining to work with, won’t you, Desmond? And I am real, by the way. I sound like that because I am actually speaking to you in every language I have ever learned simultaneously, and I am essentially uploading them into your mind, where it is automatically translated into a language you understand; hence, English with many accents.”

‘... Huh. And... I can hear you when the others couldn’t... why?’

Sorrow. Guilt.

“I was forced into them as I was into you, but I was only bred to Bond with those who possess the same genes as my first Host. The others were of Bonded lines, yes, but belonging to other Ashraktyl. You, however, are a direct descendant of my Bonded bloodline, while they were descended from others. Clay was close, but one of your common ancestors procreated with someone who had a genetic disease, which, essentially, damaged it too much in their descendants for me to Bond. It was close enough for me to... ease his pain, at least. When he... succeeded in his escape.”

‘Well that’s definitely an accurate way to put that, at least.’

A sad chuckle.

‘Wait, so, lemme get this straight here: You are an alien parasite/snake?’

Amusement.

“Yes, I came from a different planet.”

‘Okay. And you’re able to get... inside of people and, what, collect their memories? Then share all the ones you’ve collected?’

Amused Sigh.

“Close enough, I suppose. If you allow me, I can... share my story, give you a brief history of my kind. It would include an explanation as to why you were taken, as well. Such a- well, the most accurate word is download, I suppose, will take a while, however, in order to avoid overloading your brain.”

Desmond thought about it for about three seconds before deciding.

‘Screw it, I’ve got nothing better to do and if I look like I’m unconscious or going nuts they’ll leave me alone, right? So go for it, I guess. Any ‘side effects may includes’ I should know about first?’

Another laugh.

“This will take a few hours, so make sure you’re comfortable. And while doing this, we will be connected, as if one being. My experiences will seem as if they are yours: you will know all my thoughts and feelings. It will fade after I ‘disconnect’, but... it will be an intense experience. Are you ready?”

Desmond wiggled around a bit to make sure nothing would fall asleep, then tried sending a sort of mental nod. The alien (seriously what was his life?!) send a nod back, and then... well, his head kinda went staticky, his hearing faded out, and oop, there goes his body, that’s super freaky, he can’t move or feel or-

It was warm. Cramped a bit, yes, with so many others in the tank with him, but in a comfortable way; he and his siblings all nestled together, speaking in clicks and squeaks and body language. Soaking up nutrients from the water, a generator keeping them healthy and half-asleep to make the time pass more quickly. And it was much time. It wouldn’t be until after most of them had perished, after the survivors had been found and freed, given Hosts, researched their new world’s history that they would discover their Queen was 800 years dead. That Egeria, in the days before Ra had come for her, had given life to one final brood. They were not Tok’ra, as their elder siblings were. They were Ashraktyl: Assassin Liberators.

While the Tok’ra were meant to fight in the open, to instigate rebellions and find allies and plant spies, the Ashraktyl were made to be invisible. They would allow their elders to form alliances, build safe havens. And then they would be freed. Would find Hosts, work from the shadows, kill without being seen. Weaken the Goa-uld while the Tok’ra held their attentions elsewhere.

But the elder siblings who had been told of them, the ones given life and hosts before Egeria had started on them at all, were lost. Killed, while attempting to retrieve their hidden stasis tank on a planet beyond the System Lord’s control. And so they were forgotten, hidden beneath the earth, beneath what would become the Masyaf stronghold.

It was a human named Al Mualim who finally dug up their hidden chamber, in the year 1170. He was a descendant of a Tok’ra’s host, had been told the tales that had been passed down for generations. He had just left the Templars for good, become Mentor of the Hashashins, was building his forces in order to strike back against those who would destroy the free will the Tok’ra had fought so hard to give humanity. He found them volunteers, Assassins who were the best and brightest of their Brotherhood, who had children who were to follow in their footsteps.

Egeria, in her wisdom, had known that the type of killing they would do would take its toll. Known how dangerous their missions would be, and what would happen should they lose their way. Some of her Tok’ra, despite their vows, would still steal Hosts to save their own lives. She had not known before, but she did by the end.

So she had altered them, shifted genes and DNA so that they would be bound to one Bloodline, to the genes of the first Host they took. So that they may only live if the Line remained unbroken, which required the Ashraktyl to remain dormant so that their Host may procreate successfully; thus ensuring that the Host retained their free will, that they had a true partnership.

He became Bonded to a young man named Umar Ibn-La'Ahad, whom they together discovered was of a very unique Bloodline already, a descendant of an offshoot sect of the Ancients that called themselves Isu: the very species that originally created and enslaved humans, before the Solar Flare killed them off and the Goa’uld later came to take their place as ‘gods’. It gave them greater Gifts, allowed them to tell friend from foe, to track targets from high above and through layers of earth and stone.

They flourished, grew, became the best of the best, and his dearest friend- his brother, gave him his first name.

Creed, was the closest English translation. For that is what he was: a promise, a religion, a purpose. A reason to keep fighting, even as his remaining siblings fell one by one: three in failed Bondings, seven on missions, and one to a trap that the Goa’uld left behind. By the time of Umar’s final mission, in August of 1176, out of the hundreds that Egeria had spawned... only Creed remained.

And then there was the siege, Sultan Salāḥ ad-Dīn, the truce, and Umar sacrificing himself. He explained gently to Altair that his time had come early, that Creed needed a safe place to go, ignoring his Bond-brothers screams of denial as he used their shared knowledge to force Creed out, giving him no where to go but his willing, 11 year old son. The last either of them saw him, he was smiling sadly, hand on their head, promising them that he would be with them always in spirit. Then he was gone.

Creed would never risk his brother’s son, not even with his Gifts and the Ashraktyl’s ability to enhance and improve and heal. So he sat quietly in the background of his mind, whispered encouragement and advice, shared memories and skills. He protected Altair, until he became too old, to stubborn, and then they began to go out, to follow in Umar’s footsteps. They, too, became the best, rising to Master well before anyone else of Altair’s age group.

And then there came the Templars, and the Chalice. Altair growing prideful, ignoring Creed’s warnings. The Apple, the Nine Targets, the plot. Al Mualim’s betrayal, his death, their rise to Mentor. Maria and Altair’s sons, Creed’s future Hosts, so eager to someday meet him. Then more death, and loss, and gain. And then Altair grew old, weak, and they knew. Darim carried him away from his old friend, passed him on to one of Sef’s daughters who had chosen to follow in her grandfathers footsteps.

It was 200 years and several Hosts before Creed created another Bond as deep as the first two. Giovanni Auditore da Firenze is young to be Mentor, only 20, but there is no one else willing. With Creed’s knowledge and experience, they are able to build up the Italian Branch, making allies among the Madame’s and courtesans and Thieves Guild. His wife is strong willed and supportive, his children brilliant each in their own ways.

They discuss, during a long trip, whether they should tell the younger three about the Brotherhood as they had Federico, his most-likely future Host. Creed had Bonded with the eldest already, having joined with him for a few days as a teenager while Giovanni was testing an old Goa-uld weapon, neither willing to risk it backfiring on them with Creed on-board. He and Federico had gotten along well, the boy’s high spirits a balm to Creed’s old, weary soul. They thought to do the same with Petruccio, the poor child, who had become more ill recently. Revealing the Brotherhood to them would allow Creed, with Petruccio’s permission, to temporarily take him as a Host so that he could heal the boy’s ailments.

Unfortunately, it was not to be. The mission went south, then the one after that, and they were both too weak to fight the guards who came to arrest them and their sons. There was no way for them to escape together, so when Ezio showed up outside their prison window, they did what was necessary. Creed left with Ezio in an old bottle they found in their cell, able to survive in plain water long enough for the teenager to get to the hidden room, and the chest, and read the letter that they had kept prepared for the worst-case scenario. Ezio did not hesitate, did not waver, in uncorking the bottle and hold it to his lips, accepting the Bond with a being he hadn’t known existed in order to save his family.

But they were too late. Too naive, both of them, and half the family was dead in just seconds. It took all of Creed’s skill to get them out alive, and Maria, whom he’d spent many-an-evening discussing art with, was broken by the end of it.

What followed was nearly 50 years of pain and loss and oh-so-few rewards, all for them to discover they were pawns in a bigger game, for a species long dead. It was the first time Creed was not passed down upon his Host’s retirement or death, instead choosing, as Ezio had, to rest. While in the vault, paying respects to his dear friend, they found the stasis jar he and Altair had built, ages ago, in case of emergency. They took it with them, back to Sofia, then to Constantinople, then to Italy and the marriage and then to Rome. It was there, after a final evening under the stars, looking over the vineyard that would be Ezio’s home- his family’s home- that they separated, for the first and last time since they had Joined. They pressed foreheads together, one final goodbye, and then Creed slipped into the jar.

He stayed there, sleeping, resting, until he was awoken by the lid coming off, the jar tilting, and he instinctively angled himself to enter the open mouth head-first, sliding through the back and around the spine and hooked himself into the nerves and brain. He completed the Bond, prepared himself for the traditional introduction. Instead, he had to snatch control in order to prevent their immediate death by sword, swinging a strange axe- tomahawk, the Host supplied- and nearly severing the soldier’s arm before heading straight up a tree and leaping away, not stopping until he reached a space his Host identified as safe.

And that was his introduction to Connor Kenway, descendant of Ezio’s daughter, who had passed Creed’s bottle down for decades until the Templars stole him and his Bloodline’s son and corrupted him and then lost Creed again to the son’s son, who’s Mentor knew about the Bloodline and sent Connor to retrieve him and wound up taking Creed into himself in desperation when the jar was damaged in the fight.

Despite their rough, hurried start, they made a good team, this earthly young man and him. His culture was fascinating, unlike what Creed had seen and heard of before, and apparently they were on one of those New Continents that had been discovered while he was with Ezio, the ones he had seen centuries ago on the Apple’s map with Altair.

He met Achilles, the current Mentor and Connor’s trainer, and got caught up on his history. He learned of Ezio’s death (peaceful, and loved), and of the passing around he had done until the pirate and the Purge and the theft. So many dead, because of one traitor, one Brother losing his faith. It was no wonder Achilles had nearly given up, the poor man. But Connor… oh, Connor, so like his Ezio, losing his family so young and tragically. Creed still didn’t care much for these ‘spirits’, not when he was created to defy false gods, but the woman seemed sincere, and her advice had led to Connor taking up his rightful place. So he could let it go, for now.

And so Connor and Creed began their own journey, fighting oppression and armies and Templars alike, meeting other Assassins who still survived, still fought. Killing Haytham, his Father, his Blood, was painful in a whole new way. Not even Al Mualim’s betrayal stung like this, right down to the bones. They gave him a proper burial, at least, laying the stolen son to rest next to the woman he had, genuinely, loved. It was… mostly peaceful, after that. They dedicated themselves to rebuilding the Brotherhood a third time, doing their best to weed out the Templars before they could dig their claws into the new government.

When the time came, eventually, for Connor to pass on the Creed… they could not bring themselves to tell her, Connors daughter. Remembered all their shared pain, over decades and centuries, and didn’t want to put her or others through that anymore. So they build another stasis jar, this one stronger, more durable, and bid their farewells. Creed slid into his sanctuary and slept long, deep, for centuries more, thankful for the respite yet ready to serve, when needed once again.

Only, it was far different, his next Bonding. It wasn’t right, the Host wasn’t right, from one of his sibling’s Bloodlines instead of his. He tried, he tried so hard to leave them, but he was blocked in, a collar around the neck and gag in the mouth and he had no where to go that wouldn’t damage them more. So he stayed, unable to escape, learning only bits and pieces his host (not his Host, never his, it’s wasn’t right!) was able to press towards him.

Templars. Abstergo. Experiments, and kidnappings. They learned of his kinds existence a few years ago, scoured the globe, found him under an Assassin’s care. They forced him into them, not knowing about the Bond, that Creed was not some common Goa-uld simbiote to bond with anything he could find. They suffered, both of them, unable to connect properly and in pain because of it. They knew of his sentience, wanted to interrogate him for their technology, but he could not speak through the host, no matter how much he tried when they began to torture them. They realized it, eventually. Used new machines to test their DNA and discovered the problem, after what was months or years. Finally gave him an exit, left the jar under his dying hosts head, let him crawl into in with slow, pained movements. Then executed them, an Assassin who’s identity he never knew, who only suffered so much because they happened to be the one on guard duty that day.

They waited until his malnourishment was fixed, until he was healthy again, before dragging him out and into another host. A different Bloodline, this time, a man with no knowledge of Assassins or Templars, and Creed had realized with horror that they planned to simply track down any descendants of those 12 Ashraktyl mentioned in an ancient Hashashin document they dug up from a forgotten Serbian tomb.

Decades passed like this: them dragging in some poor soul they’d spent years hunting down, him being forced in, them losing their minds and dying. 15 people, only three of them actual Assassins, one a child, whom they took away to be brainwashed into a spy and whom he later saw returned to them, now an adult, unstable and full of rage.

It wasn’t until Subject 16, until Clay, that they got the Bloodline right. There was still pain, the genetic damage not allowing them a full Bond, but… it was better.

Until they realized, of course, that Clay was able to access Creed’s memories, even if their ability to truly communicate was stunted. They began the torture again, trying to eek out anything they could get, but Clay was stubborn. Acted more unstable than he was, gave them false information they had no way of confirming, gaining enough ‘freedom’ with his apparent cooperation to slip a makeup mirror off an assistant, break it in his room, and take the shards to his wrists deeply and numerous enough that they were not able to slow the bleeding in time. Creed had done what he could, cut off his pain perception and sent peaceful waves of reassurance as he faded away. They rushed him into the tank, and even through the metal and muffling technology he could hear Vidic throwing a tantrum over the ‘loss’. He got a vindictive satisfaction out of it.

And then, that morning, he’d been pulled out, forced into yet another host, but this one- this one, Desmond Miles, was his true Host.

“And they can’t know, Desmond, they can’t, or they’ll hurt and kill you too. But we can get out of here, together, it’ll take a few days but I can improve your body, give you the physical strength and endurance we need to fight our way out. I can even do the fighting, Young One, if you don’t wish to. I can get us out. Please, Desmond. Trust me.”

Coming out of the… well, there’s not really a word for it, in any earth language. Vision-memory, maybe. And that’s a thing now too, Desmond knowing dozens of earth languages and several that are very much not. ‘Genetic memories, very useful. Guess your Queen was pretty well-traveled to know so many before she spawned you.’

Fondness. Sadness.

“Yes, she had been to many planets. Taken many hosts, before she changed her ways. It is why she changed, actually. Most Goa-uld are vain and stubborn: they would rather find a host they like and preserve it for as long as possible. Egeria, however, liked to try a new body on every planet she visited. As most of those planets were inhabited by humans stolen from around Earth, their languages were varied as well.”

‘Huh, cool. So… what do we do now? You said you can get us out?’

Relief. Eagerness.

“Yes. Goa-uld are able to use their connection to the human body to alter it in subtle ways. We can change hair and eye color, and control the different chemicals your body makes to direct them to do things such as develop muscles. We will need to sneak out using methods your body does not currently have the muscle for, and will likely have to fight as well.”

‘… So what you’re saying is that I’m not muscular enough in the right places, so you’ll have to use your alien magic to get us there.’

Amusement. Impression of a snort.

“If that’s what you want to call it, fine. But yes, essentially that is what I meant. But it takes a few days to make such alterations, so you will need to be a very good actor.”

‘Oh, that’s not a problem. Years of customer service for rich drunk assholes makes me more experienced than most of Hollywood.’

A laugh.

“Well, then. I suppose we should get started, hmm?”

Pretending to be in a lot of pain isn’t difficult at all. Neither is muttering fake names and locations to himself in whatever random language Creed helps to pop into his head. It’s kinda fun, actually, in a ‘if you fail you die’ kinda way. Stress-relieving. Staring blankly at Vidic while he asks questions before randomly shouting in Italian or Arabic and lunging for his neck as if he has a hidden blades gets him some bruised ribs, but also a full day of being left alone. No one wants to deal with the raving lunatic screaming about Templar plots and swinging invisible swords.

Meanwhile, Creed is working, altering chemicals and hormones to rearrange his muscles and fats and a bunch of other things Desmond could understand if he wanted to but he doesn’t, thank you, and now he’s hiding faster reflexes and healing and muscles and abs underneath his flailing and now-barely-loose hoody.

After Escaping: they see the SG-1 crew out investigating something, see Teal’c, recognize him as a Jaffa, kidnap him.

The Goa-uld tilted his head, brown eyes under the white hood flicking over Teal’c’s body in a way he recognized from a lifetime of being surrounded by warriors. He bore the scrutinizing with a blank face as he returned the favor.

The host was a young man with dark brown eyes, his skin tanned in a way that spoke more of genetics than time in the sun. He was wearing what Teal’c had learned to be blue jeans, black sneakers, and of course, the white ‘hoodie’ which was fully zipped up and pulled low over his face. He could see a tattoo peeking out of his left sleeve where it had ridden up a bit, and he was certain there was some sort of gauntlet or weapon on his right forearm as well.

Their ‘staring contest’, as O’Neill would have called it, was broken when the Goa-uld hummed out an intrigued noice.

*You are a Jaffa with the mark of Apophis’ Prime, yet you are not an enemy. How is that, young one?*

Teal’c felt a flicker of irritation yet maintained his composure, though he still retorted,

“I am a warrior over a century old, not a child for you to patronize.”

The Goa-uld responds with a strangely friendly-seeming smile, amusement evident as he says,

*I have been alive for a little over two thousand years, Jaffa. Anyone under half that is young to me. And you did not answer my question. Why do we not sense you are an enemy?*

‘We? Sense?’

Teal’c kept his silence for a few moments longer, thinking his answer through. This Goa-uld was… strange. Both in behavior and speech. Most would be snarling away at him, threatening and torturing and enjoying making ‘the traitor’ suffer. But while he was very thoroughly restrained, he had not been harmed outside of the zat shot which had knocked him unconscious. And the way the Goa-uld spoke, it reminded Teal’c of the way the older Tok’ra would. If he was truly as old as he said, then it matched up with the last time the Tok’ra Queen Egeria had been seen. Was it possible…

“Are you Tok’ra?”

The reaction was immediate and obvious. The Goa-uld jolted as if shocked, eyes widening and lips parting for an instant before excitement and hope lit up the host’s face, questions pouring out too quickly for Teal’c to actually answer.

*They are alive? They still fight? How many, where? They were supposed to come for us, to dig up our pod and find us hosts but those who knew were killed before they could and we feared… They are truly alive?*

Teal’c knew, in his head, that this could be a trick. That the Goa-uld could be excellent actors when the situation called for it. But his instincts, his heart, which had first told him to trust O’Neill and the others, were telling him that this was real. That this Tok’ra, two thousand years old, had been stuck here, separated from his brethren and their support, suffering alone for all this time.

So he relaxed into the restraints, looked the Tok’ra in the eyes, and began to speak.

“Until almost three years ago, I was the First Prime of Apophis. That changed when the Tau’ri rediscovered their Stargate.”

————-

It was many hours later before Teal’c finished speaking. He had been released at some point in the beginning, and the conversation moved to an abandoned apartment building several blocks over, where the Tok’ra had found an intact dwelling and set up inside. They were currently sitting across from each other at a small kitchen table with mismatched chairs, a few half-empty plastic bottles of water set between them.

In exchange for his information, the Tok’ra, whom called himself an Ashraktyl, had introduced himself as Creed and his host as Desmond. They, too, had shared their stories with Teal’c, from Creed’s first host all the way down to his and Desmond’s forced Bond, just two weeks before.

They had escaped their captors, Templars who ran a company called Abstergo, and spent the six days hiding out among abandoned buildings, utilizing their skills and Desmond’s genetic gift from his Ancient ancestor to avoid cameras and searchers, pickpocketing in order to get supplies.

After they let Teal’c call his team

“It is alright, O’Neill. I have not been harmed. There was merely a misunderstanding which we have cleared up.”

Jack gave him a dubious Look, but a quick scan over him showed an at-ease body language and no injuries. Another look at Teal’c’s abductor showed a similar demeanor, his hands spread empty and his limbs loose and non-threatening. Deciding to trust that Teal’c knows what he’s doing, Jack pushed aside his misgivings and lowered his weapon, prompting the other soldiers behind him to do the same. Teal’c nodded and then stepped to the side, revealing the man behind him fully. He’s young, mid-twenties, dressed in jeans and a white hoody that mostly covered his short brown hair and cast a shadow over his darker eyes. He looked back at Jack, then seemed to realize something and smiled sheepishly before reaching up to push the hood down fully, rubbing his neck nervously as he explained,

“Sorry, it’s become habit to keep it up. I’ve got some assholes out there that want me as a lab rat, so…”

Jack blinked, scanned over the kid again, saw nothing that obviously said ‘alien’, then turned to Teal’c and asked,

“So, misunderstanding, huh? You two gonna explain?”

They shared a quick, indecipherable look before reaching some unheard agreement as Teal’c takes over answering, the kid surreptitiously inching back behind the Jaffa in a way that did not leave Jack feeling encouraged.

“This is Desmond Miles. A week ago he escaped captivity by a company called Abstergo, who’s proprietors forced a Tok’ra into him in an attempt to extract information on the location of ancient alien weapons the Tok’ra once helped to hide on Earth centuries ago. They pretended that the Blending left Desmond mentally unstable and used that as a distraction until they were able to escape together. They were in hiding when they saw me waiting outside of the office for you. My hat was blown off, and they saw my mark and captured me in order to determine why I was here.”

Jack blinked at the verbal info dump, taking a few moments to sort through and digest the story. The- apparently- Tok’ra saw his increased scrutiny and scooched further behind Teal’c, looking more nervous.

‘Fair, since he- they did kidnap someone. Teal’c wouldn’t just take them at their word, so they must have given him proof of their claims. If the Tok’ra’s been on Earth long enough to have hidden alien weapons that long ago, then it’s a safe bet that they’re pretty invested in the planet’s safety.’

Mind made up, Jack gestured over his shoulder for the rest of the strike team to move out, telling the two aliens,

“We’ll take this back to base, get the reports filled out and verify your claims. General Hammond can deal with this. You said your name is Desmond?”

The kid nodded, most of the nervousness gone now that the weapons were too. Then he blinked, nodded again with a look of relief, and his eyes flashed that eerie gold and his entire posture changed, switching from miscreant-kid-trying-to-hide to confident-and-experienced-soldier, and wow did that make a difference. Desmond’s hunching and slouching had hidden exactly how tall he was, and those loose clothes were definitely hiding some serious muscle.

Jack stomped on the urge to pull a weapon at the familiar, creepily vibrating voice that then spoke to him.

*Thank you, Colonel O’Neill. We appreciate the trust you are showing. My name is Creed.*

Jack nodded and then partially turned, waving his arm towards the door in an after-you gesture. The Tok’ra hesitated a moment, then instead walked over to a window and grabbed a backpack that was rested underneath it. He returned to the table and carefully emptied the bag out onto it, giving Jack a clear view of what was inside in a very deliberate way that Jack appreciated. He stepped forward when the Tok’ra moved back, allowing him to inventory the contents.

“Granola bars, metal water bottle, painkillers, Swiss Army knife, first aid stuff, busted cell phone, and… yup that is a gun, thank you for keeping your hands out of the way, I’m just gonna…”

Jack reached over to grab the (fully loaded, safety on) handgun, unloading and tucking it into one of his bigger pants pockets. That done, he checked the pile over one more time, found nothing else, and then put it all back into the bag before taking it in hand.

“Anything else you wanna put in here? I’ll keep a hold of it and make sure it all gets returned to you once we get you verified as a good guy.”

Creed hesitated, getting the same look some of the other Tok’ra did when they were ‘conversing’ with their hosts, then sighed and pushed up his right sleeve, revealing a medieval-looking silver brace on his forearm. He pointed his arm off to the side, made eye contact with Jack, then flexed his arm and revealed an eight-inch stiletto blade that shot out from his wrist.

It took Jack a moment to respond, in which he thought,

‘Oh yeah, very glad he’s not a Goa-uld.’

Because there was no way one of those parasites wouldn’t have used that thing at the first opportunity, or tried to hide it and use it once inside SGC. At the speed it came out, it was probably capable of severing spines. Jack glanced from it to Creed, and saw when the Tok’ra understood his unspoken thanks in the gentling of his face. Creed nodded, somehow retracted the blade, and then removed it to slip into the open bag. He handled it with near reverence, in a way that made Jack sure that he would be extremely upset at it being destroyed or stolen. He mentally vowed to sneak the entire thing straight to his own quarters to avoid any chance of it being ‘mishandled’ by some NID lackey as he watched as Creed tossed in another knife and some cash before saying,

*That’s everything, unless you want Desmond’s skittle stash in our jacket pocket.”*

Jack snorted and shook an amused negative as he zipped the bag and slung it over his own shoulder. This time, when Jack gestured for him to follow Teal’c, he did so without question. They made it outside and to the van without incident, Creed pulling up his white hood seemingly automatically once they exited the building. His hands were loosely fisted in his pockets, his eyes roving over the streets and rooftops without him ever moving his head.

Despite the heavily armed soldiers all staring distrustfully at him, he seemed to relaxed a bit after they’d closed the vans doors and started driving. The further away from Colorado Springs they got, the looser his posture became, until they reached the base’s gate and he gave and actual sigh of relief. At Jack confused look, he smiled crookedly. The Colonel realized it was Desmond in charge just before he spoke, sounding both heartened and tired.

“Abstergo’s been hunting for us since we escaped, and they’ve got a lot of resources. Influence, money, and a whole lotta people on payroll, including law enforcement and politicians. But we know for a fact they haven’t managed to get anyone from the SGC to work for them yet. Creed heard their head doctor complaining about it to his supervisor a few weeks before the last host they shoved him into-“

He cut himself off with a wince, face paling a bit. Jack frowned, mentally prepped himself to hear something awful, then asked,

“What happened?”

Desmond hunched in on himself a bit, avoiding eye contact as he took a deep breath, released it, and then answered.

“Creed and his siblings were all designed by the Tok’ra Queen to be very… unique. She meant for them to be assassins, and knew how high the risk would be. Egeria didn’t want to risk them becoming corrupted by the darkness of the work they would do, so she altered them so that once they Blended for the first time, they would absorb some of the Host’s genes. After that, they would only be able to take a Host if the person shared enough DNA with the first Host to be compatible. Creed’s… Creed’s pod wasn’t found by the Tok’ra, and most of his siblings died before the descendant of a Tok’ra’s Host found them. After that, the remaining 11 who’d survived and had found willing Hosts all died within a decade of being rediscovered.”

Jack winced, already dreading where this sad story was going, but didn’t interrupt.

“So, Creed’s the only one left, and he’s bound to a certain Bloodline- my Bloodline, but Abstergo didn’t know that at first. They just forced him into the first prisoner they took and then started taking notes. Once they figured out it had to do with DNA, they started hunting down any remaining descendants of the 12 Ashraktyl. They didn’t know which one Creed was, so once they found someone they’d just…”

Desmond winced himself, starting to look even paler. Jack wanted to stop him, but he also had a responsibility to find out more.

“They forced him into 16 people before me, and since none of them had the right genes the Blending didn’t happen correctly and they started to become more and more mentally unstable the longer Creed was locked in them. He couldn’t get the chemical balances right or even get far enough into the nervous system to be able to speak with them. He was just this- this awful parasite to them. He- he did what he could, tried to relieve their pain, but… they would all die, eventually. Either because they lost it enough to attack and get killed, or because they found a way to do the job themselves. Only one ‘Subject’-“

He spat the word, face twisted in anger, and Creed must have been starting to get closer to the surface because his eyes had a glow,

“-survived, a little kid they brainwashed after they let Creed out and discovered the kid was basically a blank slate from the physiological shredding the Blending caused. Subject 16 heard that he’d been sent into a rival’s group and used as a sleeper agent. Took out their leader and then ran back to Abstergo like they’d programmed him to.”

‘…Yeah, kid, they’re all not the only ones who need some mental help. Damn, can’t imagine living with those kinds of memories.’

Desmond shook his head, eyes squeezed together before he nodded and went lax. A moment later Creed sat back up, posture almost regal despite the circumstances. He gave Jack a sad smile before he continued in Desmond’s stead. The other SG soldiers in the van all startled and reflexively gripped their weapons at the sound of his voice, but didn’t do any more than give him distrustful looks when they saw Jack’s calm reaction.

*Our apologies, Colonel. It is… difficult, for him to speak of these things. I’m born with the ability to compartmentalize the memories I inherit: Desmond is still learning how to do so. Every time he accesses my knowledge, it feels to him as if he is living that memory himself. Considering many of the other ‘Subjects’ died in slow and painful ways…*

Jack winced again, more visibly this time, cause yikes. Reliving other people’s suicides could not be either pleasant or good for the kid’s already tenuous mental health.

‘First stop, Dr. Fraiser. Need to get him- them checked for any injuries or trackers or secret bombs or something. Be just our luck. She can assess their mental states too.’

During a briefing with SGC Leadership

*My information, other than what Teal’c has told me, is 2,000 years out of date. I can, however, provide you with plans for things such as shields and some of the smaller weapons and ships. Egeria was not able to access the plans for much else before I was spawned, but she gave me all she knew.*

Creed paused, lips downturned as he continued,

*The main problem will be finding the actual resources to build the things I can give you. Earth does not have many of the necessary elements or power sources needed to recreate some things. I can start with those that could be easily modified and we can go from there. Perhaps your allies may be able to procure some of what you need for the rest.*

He directed his gaze back at Maybourne, raised an eyebrow, and asked mildly,

*Will that suffice to prove my intentions, Colonel?*

Maybourne looked torn between asserting his ‘authority’ due to the barely-concealed distain or marrying the guy for finally getting the officer what he’s been harping the SGC for. He instead decided to just nod, demand one of the immediately-doable designs by the end of the week, say his farewells, and stalk out of the room, shoulders squared and head held high. Creed actually snickered at that, or maybe Desmond had popped out for a moment, but quickly composed himself to let the General know how big he needed the blueprint sheets to be, and the kinds of pencils and tools to go with it. Cause apparently it would be easier for the 2,000 year old to just draw it all out on paper, rather than use the computers to generate a 3-D model. Jack approved. Computers were just trouble.

*I’ll start with energy shields. The medium-sized ones can be modified to work with nuclear reactors.*

Carter perked up and asked,

“What about a naquahda reactor?”

Creed blinked at her, brows creased, and asked what that was. Carter then proceeded to drag him off to her lab to show off her little pet project, and while Creed actually looked a bit interested, Jack would bet his best fishing pole that Desmond was in the back of their head having a nice little nap. The look on his face when Daniel had tried to pump him for information on the ‘Isu’ language and started spouting Ancient gibberish he’d learned over the years had shown that much.

Aaaaand that all folks! Hope there’s a chance someone wants to do something with this!

#assassins creed crossover #stargate #desmond miles

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