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dreamcatcherrs · 4 years ago

Note

can u do streamers with a plus size reader? ty i love ur fics ♡

+ reminder! every body type is beautiful in its own way, and I’m sure that all of the mcyts would want to date a person of any size! hope you enjoy<3

++ I also added a couple of insecurities that are common for a lot of people cause I felt like it ^-^

dating a plus size reader; mcyt x reader

dream:

dream is an absolute softie for you

he will literally carry you anywhere you go

even if you insist for him not to

he just lifts you up into his arms and runs off with you

as I’ve mentioned before, he loves squishy places of the body

especially the booty ;)

so expect a lot of grabbing whenever he’s near you (with your consent, of course)

always tells you how amazing you look

even if you’re only wearing sweatpants and a basic tee and feel like absolute shit

and he would definitely have you pose for pictures of his merch

georgenotfound:

he loves resting his head on you

uses your chest as his personal pillow

he thinks it’s absolutely crazy how you’re able to make every outfit look good

like, you could wear a plastic bag and still look like a model to him

you two go out to eat fast food at the most random times

some days midnight, some days at 5am

admires your confidence

sapnap:

THIGHS THIGHS THIGHS

he loves your thighs sooo much and always has his hands (or eyes) on them

he almost holds your thigh more than your hand

and he just thinks you’re so gorgeous and can’t believe he can call you his

but when he finds out you don’t think so, his mind is blown

like... what?

are you blind????

he tells you how “you’re so fucking hot” every day until you start thinking so yourself

badboyhalo:

loves baking cakes with you

and makes sure you’re always well fed

he absolutely adores your stretch marks!

he loves just tracing his fingers over the lines

following them around with his fingertips

and gets very focused about it to a point where he stops listening to you talk

he makes sure you never feel down about something as natural as stretch marks

and makes sure to kiss every place you're insecure about

technoblade:

techno literally doesn't care what you look like

he only cares if you're happy, cause he really hates seeing you sad

especially when he can't do anything about it

so when he catches you one day looking at yourself in the mirror with a look of disgust

his heart crumbles in his chest

sits you down to talk about it

and gets more touchy afterwards along with spurring out compliments more often

wilbur soot:

wilby is also a big sucker for thighs

he’s not super grabby, but he gets his point across;

that he absolutely loves every part of your body

to be honest, like techno, I see wilbur as someone who literally does not care what you look like

if he likes you, he’ll love the way you look either way

he is very appreciative of soft, fleshy parts of your body

that he can just cling onto when he wants

jschlatt:

fuck, does schlatt love to have you on his lap

like he might not come across as someone who’s cuddly

but I’m telling you

he is super cuddly

he just wants someone to hold and to be held by

he needs that physical touch and he just can't seem to keep his hands off of you

he’ll tell you “you look so stupid right now”, laugh, and then give you a big ol’ bear hug

jokes aside, he makes sure you know just how dizzyingly beautiful you look 24/7

corpse husband:

fishnets, legs, fishnets, legs

even if you don't like wearing fishnets, he’s just all; legs, grab, thighs, squish

no but seriously he loves your legs so much

they just catch his attention and immediately make him go soft

without you doing anything you’ll just hear him giggle at you

and then realise he’d been looking at you for a hot minute, just taking in how absolutely stunning you look

and he doesn't fail to let you know that :)

karl jacobs:

like wilbur, I think he just genuinely doesn't care and loves you regardless of what you look like

we all know that karl’s way of showing affection is through touch

so he loves cuddling up to you

using your chest as a pillow and engulfing you in his arms

and he’ll be whining within a second if you even a much as try to move away from him

something he doesn't realise he does, but you do, is that he will just randomly hold on tight to a certain part of your body

even if you're just talking

his hands will be on you without him even noticing

and it’s really cute

skeppy:

I’ve mentioned this before, but I think that skeppy really likes the way skirts look on you

or tight-fitting jeans

anything that compliments your body, really

though he does like the way you look without any clothes on

anyways, he fucking loves your body so much

and any person who thinks differently is not his friend

he’s always hugging you

or brushing his knuckles over your arms lovingly

small touches are his forté

fundy:

he can never seem to keep his eyes off of you

no matter how hard he tries, you’re just too gorgeous

isn’t the touchiest of the boys, but when he’s in the need for some physical touch, he’s very obvious about it

will start off by holding your hand

and then maybe move onto hugging you from behind

comes off pretty clingy once he needs that love and affection

he just loves touching you; maybe cause your skin is soft? he’ll never tell you (it’s his little secret)

quackity:

MMMME GUSTAAA

he looooooves loves loves how, and I quote, “thicc you are”

and he gets so clingy, too

makes grabby hands at you if he needs to to catch your attention

and definitely, without a doubt, uses your chest as his personal pillow

he’s also a squisher

your thigh’s kinda become his little stress toy

alex will fully commit to being a complete simp for you - he does not care at this point

can get blushy sometimes when he catches himself looking at you for too long

punz:

if you thought that sapnap would be wild when it comes to thighs, let me introduce you to this man

luke is a massive sucker for some thick thighs

and don't even get me started on the flesh on your hips

he lowkey has an addiction to constantly keeping his hands on there, but it’s not like you mind

it’s like his hands are glued onto you sometimes

holding on tightly or gently, doesn't matter

and sometimes he’ll even get lost in the way his fingers dig into your skin

can't fathom the fact that you're all his

awesamdude:

sam is literally the cutest🥺

gives you compliments all the time

and literally always has a hand on you to gently caress your skin

and he is always gentle with his touches

and I mean always

drawing circles onto your back or arm using his thumb

placing small kisses on your temple

he always posts pictures of you on his instagram and twitter

has like one or two pictures of himself, and the rest are of you :]

slimecicle:

literally smothers you with love and affection

he loves the little dents in your thighs from cellulite

finds it sooo attractive

loves to trace his fingers over the dents

notices immediately if there are changes in your eating habits

and will confront you the second he notices cause he can't bare the thought of you eating less than usual

makes sure it never happens again

eret:

they have a special seat for you right on his lap

if you were comfortable with it she’d love for you to sit with them in his streams

SHOWERS you with compliments

constantly

and leaves trails of kisses everywhere

even if you whine about it being too much or distracting you

he ignores it and continues

can't believe she’s ended up with such a god/dess as you

jack manifold:

jack was completely shocked when he found out you were insecure about your body

what was there to be insecure about?

to his eyes you were completely perfect, and he just couldn’t understand how… you couldn’t see that?

makes sure you now how absolutely stunning you are

can't help but to show you off to everyone (he is a leo after all)

and also let’s his hands roam all over you - with your consent, of course!

adores you so much

tommy:

tommy had seriously never thought of it before you’d said that you didn’t want a piece of cake after he asked

and he goes; why?????

and you’re like; I shouldn't eat it

and he’s even more ???

doesn't know what why or when you decided you “shouldn't” do something as normal as eating

it’s so very obvious how soft he is for you when it’s just the two of you

and even succumbs to his soft side in front of others if he gets too caught up in your beauty

tubbo:

tubbo just… doesn't care

like, at all

but of course he notices the absolute beauty of you, and will simp for you

doesn't shower you with compliments, but gives subtle signs

a common one is squeezing your hand

or calling you cute or adorable

brushing a strand of hair out of your face

simplicity is his thing

ranboo:

lots of hugsss

unintentionally squeezes too hard so you have to tap his shoulder

and he just giggles

he likes resting his head on practically any part of your body

cause you're so comfy

wants to constantly fondle you in his arms

he’s become so used to clinging to you, it’s just by instinct at this point

____________________________________

tag list✰

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1K notes · View notes

robininthelabyrinth · 5 years ago

Note

Could you do something where Jiang Yanli kills Jin Guangshan? Reason why and when are up to you.

“It’s just in case,” Jiang Cheng said.

“A-Cheng…” Jiang Yanli said, smiling helplessly. Her little brother was all grown up now and pretending like it was his duty to be protective of her, rather than the other way around. “A-Cheng, it’s really not necessary. I’m going to my own engagement dinner – I don’t think anyone’s going to cause trouble.”

“It’s just in case.”

“A-Cheng, you do know that once I get married, I’m going to live there, right?” she said, laughing a little helplessly. “I’ll be in Koi Tower all the time. I can’t take Zidian away from you forever.”

“It’s fine after you get married,” Jiang Cheng said. “Jin Zixuan is a peacock, but he loves you; he’ll be by your side as often as he can manage it. But an engagement party like this – it’s so unorthodox to have something like this anyway, I don’t know what LanlingJin is thinking – he’ll be occupied getting congratulations on his side, you on yours, and then you retreat to separate bedrooms. If someone wanted to cause trouble in your marriage, that would be a good night for it. So just take it.”

“I don’t even know how to use Zidian properly!” she protested. “Not the way you do! I always…”

She waved her hands.

“Massively over do it?” Jiang Cheng said dryly.

Jiang Yanli grinned bashfully. “Yes.”

Zidian was a delicate spiritual weapon – in her brother’s hands, it was like watching artistry, the crackle of lightning and the shifts between ring and whip and back, never stronger than he meant it to be, able to draw beautiful patterns in the air that left after-images on the eye.

In Jiang Yanli’s hands…

She’d only ever managed to figure out how to activate Zidian’s self-defense mechanism, an extremely powerful lightning zap designed to send anything it touched into the next room and usually the next life.

“I’d still rather you had it for this party,” he said firmly. “Please, indulge me.”

Jiang Yanli stood on her tip-toes and pulled her little brother down by the collar to press a kiss to his forehead. “Always, A-Cheng.”

No one notices an extra ring on her finger that evening – if anything, she’s under-dressed compared to most of the ladies in Lanling, who cover themselves in gold and jewels; they flock around her and drink just as many toasts as the men do, albeit in their own fashion, and the rest of the evening is spent in gossip. Jiang Yanli wasn’t sure how much she liked any of this, but she supposed the engagement party wasn’t really for her – it was for Madame Jin, presiding over the events and puffed up with pride for having made the engagement work out just the way she and Madame Yu had planned it all those years ago.

If it had been for Jiang Yanli, her brothers would have been invited. Both of them.

Still, as the guest of honor, she’s obligated to stay very late, until the party could realistically be considered over and everyone lingering could pretend that they’d meant to do that anyway. Jiang Yanli pointedly yawned a few times before making her excuses – she didn’t need to fake it all that much, actually, given how much wine she’d drunk, even if she had only taken a single sip for every toast.

Of course, no one grew up with Wei Wuxian as a brother without developing some serious alcohol tolerance, so she’s not as affected as she made herself out to be.

Still, she thinks a little later that night, remarkably clear-headed, being drunk would probably be…helpful.

Jiang Yanli took a moment to survey the scene one more time, made a few small arrangements, nodded to herself, and started screaming Madame Jin’s name.

She’d been given a room in the main family hallway, as befitting her soon-to-be-daughter-in-law status, and Madame Jin had (somewhat reluctantly) bid the rest of her guests farewell shortly after Jiang Yanli left, so it didn’t take long before the woman ran into her room, followed very shortly by Jin Zixuan – they must have been talking in Madame Jin’s rooms.

Jiang Yanli flung herself at her future husband – well, she hoped he was still her future husband – and clutched at him, giving him a meaningful look as she did, hoping he understood. “There’s a man in my room!”

Jin Zixuan’s arms around her were a comfort, and his eyes were narrow as he looked around to see the scene she’d prepared: a man with a sheet over his face, lying against a wall where he’d evidently been thrown.

“Zixuan, you comfort Yanli,” Madame Jin instructed, then turned to the servants. “I want this locked down immediately. No one but you is to know what happened – if anyone asks, the story is that she saw a rat and overreacted after having drunk too much; we’ll figure out the rest later. If the real story gets out, it may affect Yanli’s reputation – and I’ll know it was one of you.”

The servants, pale-faced, rushed out.

“What happened?” Jin Zixuan asked her, and she really appreciated that he didn’t follow his mother’s instructions to comfort her as if she were a child.

She wiped the rather legitimate tears away from her eyes. “I came inside and began to change for bed,” she said. “My maid had just finished putting my hair down when she suddenly said we needed more incense and left –”

“Bought out, most likely,” Madame Jin said, looking grim. It had been a maid she’d appointed herself.

“And the someone came up behind me and put his hands on me,” Jiang Yanli continued. “I pulled away, so he only got my shoulders, but he tried to throw me onto the bed. I couldn’t see who it was, only a blur in the dark; I grabbed a sheet and threw it at his face –”

That was the only part of this story that was a lie. The sheet had been a later addition – and she’d seen exactly who it was.

“How’d he end up across the room?” Jin Zixuan asked, glancing over. His tone wasn’t accusing, at least – more puzzled. It was understandable: Jiang Yanli’s cultivation had never been anything very spectacular.

“He tried to grab me again and Zidian’s self-defense mechanism activated,” she said. “My brother gave her to me so I’d have something of my mother’s to wear at the engagement party…you know we don’t have much of her that’s left.”

Madame Jin’s face softened at the mention of her childhood friend.

“I’m glad he did,” Jin Zixuan said, and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I didn’t even know Zidian had a self-defense mechanism.”

“It’s for people like me who can’t use it properly,” Jiang Yanli explained, leaning her head against him. She was a little confused – they were taking all the actions and precautions she’d hoped they would, keeping the story quiet and listening to her, but…why weren’t they looking at the body?

“I’m glad,” Jin Zixuan said again, and now that her head was against his chest, she could feel that he was shaking. “Mother…what are we going to do?”

“Zidian’s effects are similar to a lightning strike,” Madame Jin said. “Especially the – it was the zap, Yanli?”

Of course Madame Jin would know – Madame Yu had probably told her all about it. Jiang Yanli nodded.

“With the make-up to conceal the impact on the veins, the cause of death could just as easily have been a heart attack,” Madame Jin continued. “We can spin that. Maybe we say he came in here by accident, and in the confusion of realizing he was in the wrong room, had the attack…?”

They’d recognized him, Jiang Yanli realized. From the first moment they’d come in, sheet or no sheet – no. It was better to say that while they hadn’t expected this would happen, it also hadn’t surprised them very much.

Jin Guangshan had truly been a vile human being, if his wife and son didn’t mourn his passing even for a moment.

Jiang Yanli let the stress slip off her shoulders. “That would raise questions,” she said, composed again. “And I won’t be able to marry A-Xuan if people think I killed his father. How about a slightly different spin: the room was dark when I came in, my maid left, and I got up to look around and began screaming when I found the body. It would be obvious what he’d been trying to do, but if he died before I even arrived…”

“No, that’s better,” Jin Zixuan said. “It won’t – no one will be surprised at something like that, from him. I’m sorry. But you screamed very convincingly.”

She smiled at him. “I’m not very good at screaming.”

“If I hadn’t been in a war camp with you, I would’ve believed you?” he offered with a shaky smile.

“I never expected you to,” she said and kissed his cheek. “It was for the benefit of the audience.”

“The sheet was a good touch,” Madame Jin said, and she sounded approving. “The servants wouldn’t have recognized him – some of them will think it was a stranger, inevitably, and that will create additional confusion when the stories leak out…yes, I think a sudden heart attack while waiting is the best approach. We will need to take action, A-Xuan – reach out to everyone we can trust at once.”

“Is there anything I should do?” Jiang Yanli wanted to know.

“No, you’re not a member of the family yet,” Jin Zixuan said. “Your first instinct was right: you need to be the distressed young mistress.”

“Shocked and a little naïve about what he could possibly have been doing there would be best,” Madame Jin agreed. “‘Surely he just wanted to give me another toast’ – that sort of thing. Can you do that?”

“I can try. Most of the women here don’t know me very well, so it should work.”

Jin Zixuan ended up taking her down the hallway to the only other family housed there, knocking at the door. Jin Guangyao had a smile on his face when he answered – but then, he was always smiling.

The smile didn’t alter as Jin Zixuan explained the situation in short terms.

“I would be happy to help,” Jin Guangyao said. “Don’t worry. Miss Jiang is perfectly safe with me.”

#mdzs #jiang yanli #jiang cheng #jin zixuan #madame jin #jin guangyao #my fic #guess it's just a jiang yanli day #Anonymous

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consumeconstantly · 4 years ago

Text

Not a Saint or a Hero

Summary: To civilians, Ladybug is a hero. In the eyes of the law, Ladybug is a vigilante at best, and a villain at worst.

______________________________________________________

Conquering the Parisian underworld is child’s play for Ladybug and her partner, Chat Noir. The ex-boss of the Parisian underworld, code name Hawkmoth, may have been good at pushing drugs and ruining people’s lives, but he was woefully incompetent at... basically everything else. Which meant that other than Hawkmoth and his direct underlings, there really wasn’t much of a structure at all that Ladybug had to be worried about. No cohesive unit, fighting as one, just easy pickings and an even easier way to convince the drug dealers, homeless, illegal fight rings, and various other under the radar activities to band together to topple Hawkmoth’s empire.

Ladybug, after all, had experience with overthrowing established mafiosos. She did it once in Wenzhou at her mother’s side, another time in Beijing because somebody made the mistake of trying to push her into prostitution, and twice in Italy with her grandmother, code name Befana.

“Do you really have to leave, m’lady?”

Ladybug shrugs. “I trust you and the team to keep things up and running. We had a good run, but there’s a good structure in place now and Befana wants me to go with her to another country.”

Nobody says no to Befana, not unless they’re bullet proof. Ladybug may have high quality Kevlar sewn into every outfit she wears, but even she isn’t the biggest fan of the impact of a bullet. Depending on the gun, broken ribs are a kindness.

“I know you don’t get along with Queen Bee, and almost everyone else is out of the country, but you’re not going to say goodbye to Rena or Carapace?”

“It’s not like I’m going to be gone forever. Just a few months. A year at most.”

“Promise me you’ll come back, m’lady?”

Ladybug puts a hand on her partner's shoulder. “You know I can’t make promises like that.”

Chat pauses, dull thud of the rave music filling in their silence.

He swirls the whiskey in his glass. “Stay safe, Bug. Play it smart.”

“I always do.”

It comes as no surprise that Befana dumps her in the middle of one of the most crime infested cities world wide without a backwards glance. Her granddaughter is grown up now, after all.

“Have fun, darling. Black Mask is particularly nasty, make sure to watch out for his assistant, she’s very sharp.” Befana pulls away from the nonexistent curb— nonexistent because there’s no sidewalks in the slums of Gotham, at least, not many of them in good enough conditions to have curbs or whole piece of cement to walk on— and leaves Marinette all on her lonesome with a backpack, a key to a cheap apartment.

Marinette eyes the broken bottles leading to the entryway of her new building and the boarded up windows. Across the street, there’s two women smoking and conversing in hushed tones.

“Well,” Marinette mutters underneath her breath, shifting the straps of her only worldly possessions. “It’s definitely quieter than I expected.”

“Hey, new girl,” one of the women in the group calls out to her. “What’re you in for?”

“School. This is the cheapest apartment I could find.”

The woman exchanges a glance with one of her friends.

“You’re better off finding a more expensive apartment elsewhere. This isn’t a place for someone like you.”

An excellent line for Marinette to begin to fish for information. “What do you mean by that?”

“This is disputed territory, now. If you can’t afford to stay somewhere else, you better stay with whoever just dropped you off.”

Marinette fidgets. Gina is long gone. Grandmother or not, even though Gina is undoubtedly loyal and will never hurt her, she believes that the best way to inspire growth is through adversity. Like now. The only information she got out of Befana was that she had to figure out a way to keep Gotham in line… whatever that meant. “She’s not going to come back. I guess I’ll just have to try my luck.”

“You really got nowhere else to go?”

“No. I’m from abroad.”

“That explains the accent,” says the one holding a beer bottle. “Then listen up, girlie. If you wanna survive, there’s three rules you’ve gotta learn. One. Don’t cross the Black Mask. Two. Don’t cross Red Hood. Three. Don’t sell to children.”

“Sell to children?”

“Well, I don’t suppose you’d be doing it anyways, given the whole,” she motions to Marinette’s body with a cigarette, “but Hood goes after anyone who sells drugs to kids real bad. Worse than if you fuck him over with anything the Black Mask’s doing, anyways.”

“Red Hood doesn’t sound like that bad of a guy, then.” Maybe she’ll look into a collaboration with him.

The woman with the beer bottle laughed. “Oh honey, you’re a saint. Don’t go fostering any dreams. You just stay away, hear?”

“I hear you,” Marinette says.

But they got something wrong.

Marinette isn’t a saint, and never has been.

The walls of her crappy one bedroom apartment are thin enough to hear the baby upstairs scream at ungodly hours. If it’s not the baby waking her up, her neighbors in the apartment to her right are fucking very, very loudly. The apartment below her blasts rock music at all hours, the apartment to her right is likely selling drugs, given that she sees at least fifteen different people come in and out each day, and they always have a vaguely dazed look in their eye. She hasn’t heard anything from the apartment across, but she’s sure they’ll start up some noisy activity that Marinette doesn’t particularly want to hear soon enough.

She really got pampered in Paris, didn’t she?

Marinette lived a life of relative luxury whenever she stayed with her parents, instead of Gina. While in Beijing and Chongqing with Tom and Sabine, Maman did all of the heavy lifting for her. Well, Beijing had ended rather disastrously, and they had to make a quick getaway, but at least in Chongqing, Sabine managed to get rid of the prostitution ring.

Back in Wenzhou, Catania, and Bologna, Gina took the reins, and it always turned out to be a sink or swim sort of situation. First off was her mother’s birth place, which had an astonishingly high crime rate and definitely explained why Sabine Cheng was so adept at self defense, and once they were there, of course they had to reform the fight rings. In Catania and Bologna, Gina practically threw her at two of the lowest rank mafia groups and told her to use them to bring order to the warring mafias. During those years, Gina didn’t make a front like Sabine and Tom did, purchasing a bakery and running a business to aid their more behind the scenes work. No, with Gina, it was either war of peace, and there was nowhere in between.

Which, of course, meant that Marinette rarely got to stay in nice rooms or pursue hobbies like sewing or drawing or anything, really.

Now that she is of age, Marinette could potentially try to wrest herself out of Befana’s influence, but that’s almost a laughable thought. Befana has eyes and ears everywhere. If she wants to escape the rat race of reformation, Marinette needs to gather power.

The best thing she can do for now is try to figure out the situation in Gotham. If it’s not particularly bad, maybe she’ll have an easy time of it, and figure out how to disappear herself. She’s not totally opposed to the whole making-criminals-act-within-the-bounds-of-morality thing, but it’s gotten pretty tiring. Not repetitive, necessarily, but after experiencing an almost normal life in Paris, Marinette does want to have the privilege of not having to worry about her life every hour. Maybe she can even start up a little boutique.

Marinette dumps most of the contents out of her bag, only leaving her wallet, a knife, and her trademark yo-yos.

“Maybe I can go back to Paris, eventually.” She has become very fond of the city; the first place where she took fate into her own hands, where her mother and grandmother didn’t push her to reform the underworld. The first place where she chose to change the world around her. The first place where she saw things through from start to finish. The first place she formed her own team.

The power of change is both incredibly addicting and terrifying. She sort of gets why Befana roams the world, looking for the next place she wants to shake things up in. But Marinette can’t get addicted. This is going to be her last city, then she’s going to return to Paris and settle down. She’ll leave city beautification to the so-called vigilantes that almost every city has acquired, save Paris.

Oh wait, she supposes that Ladybug and Chat Noir were-- and Chat still is-- a type of vigilante back home. But as it stands now, it will be more correct to refer to them as heads of the Parisian underworld; they definitely don’t work on the side of the law, but she and Chat made sure that drug deals were more… regulated. That deaths and the induction of children into such a dark world were curbed. That if people really wanted to get out, they could.

All of that doesn’t matter. Not in the eyes of the law at least. Parisian citizens love the duo for helping keep crimes off the streets and for banning the particularly strong strain of drug that Gabriel called AKUMA off the market, but the Parisian police? She and Chat both have targets on their head. Their whole team does.

She eyes the apartment across from her. There’s blood on the door handle. It’s a good thing that Sabine and Tom never tried to instill those odd customs of ‘house warming’ and ‘getting to know her neighbors’ that most other people teach their children. In good neighborhoods, it’s important to have a cordial relationship with whoever’s living next door. In neighborhoods like these? It’s even more important.

But rule number one of pissing people off?

Coming over uninvited.

Marinette doesn’t bother locking the door behind her.

“New to the neighborhood?”

Apparently, it really is bizarre for her to have moved into this apartment complex. She’s come across a grand total of five people during her week here, and every single one of them stopped whatever they were doing in order to take a closer look.

Marinette knows that this is a disputed area. She looked into the two women’s words the day she arrived. But, for a disputed area, everything is remarkably quiet. No fights, nobody on the streets, most people keep indoors, unless they’re out for a smoke, to throw out the trash, or are going to or coming back from various activities outside of the block.

What’s even more odd is that all of her neighbors seem to know each other intimately. Or at least, intimately enough to know that she doesn’t belong there.

“Yeah,” Marinette says, ready to leave this conversation behind. She doesn’t bother getting information out of the people who are in her apartment complex or on this block. To be more accurate, she tried with one of the first people she came across, but it was apparent that someone encouraged them to be tight lipped with information.

Given the current information she has, she thinks it’s more likely that the one who gave that order is Red Hood, rather than Black Mask.

“Been here a week.” The guy lights his joint and breathes out. “Not so new anymore.”

Over the years, she’s gotten used to the smell of marijuana, though she can’t say she likes the scent. She’ll take cigarettes over weed any day.

“You could say that.”

“Don’t suppose anybody’s laid out the rules for you yet, have they?”

Maybe this will make things easier for her. Mostly, she’s just settled into her apartment over the past seven days. There's no need for her to immediately get to work, and she does enjoy comfort. Taking down criminals is hard work. She wants to come back to an apartment that doesn’t look awful and lets her relax. So what if she spent most of her money on an expensive mattress and a coffee machine? She’s an adult now. Nobody can tell her what to do. (Except for Befana.) “No, not really.”

“Tina and Audrey give you a crash course?”

“Mostly just warned me not to sell to children.”

The man barks, smoke spitting into the stale air. “Some of the best advice around. Let me tell you, Black Mask might have more manpower, but Red Hood has rage. Cross Black Mask by gypping him, he’ll send a lackey after you. Fuck with children, Red Hood himself will come for you.”

He pauses, evaluating her appearance.

“Though you look like a child yourself. Mighty pretty too. lucky girl. Hood will protect you if you stay around these parts, but if you go south on the diagonal, you’ll be in bad territory. Plenty of prostitution rings around there.”

“Thought this was disputed territory.”

“Not really. Anywhere Hood has claimed is said to be disputed because Mask hates his guts and keeps sending goons to these areas. But anyone who’s dealing under Mask aint gonna take the risk of their lives just to branch out to these spots.”

“Sounds like Red Hood is pretty well liked around these parts, then.”

Perhaps she’ll look into working with him. From what she’s heard of the guy and what she’s found trawling the dark web, his morals seem to align with her own. A little bit more temperamental than she’d like, a little too quick to kill, rather than apprehend, but Gotham prisons seem to have jailbreaks every other week, so she can understand why it may be easier just to make every encounter a one and done.

“Liked?” Blunt finished, he flicks the stub into the dirt, crushing the embers under foot. He wipes his mouth with the scarf around his neck. “Like isn't the question in Gotham, Frenchie.”

Marinette inwardly cringes. She’s tried to minimize her accent because it makes natives distrust her, or think they can take her for a loop. Most people she’s come across accept her as one of their own, but apparently she hasn’t been doing as well as she thought she was. Maybe this is why people seemed a little more reluctant with any information.

“When it comes down to it, liking means nothing. It’s who you trust to watch your back.” He fumbles in his pockets, pulling out another blunt. Marinette notices that his fingers are fairly heavily bandaged and that the man is shaking slightly. Medicinal marijuana, maybe. “Wouldn’t trust that Mask farther than I can throw him. And he used to be a wrestler, so he’s a fat bastard. At least you can trust Hood not to cross you as long as you don’t cross him first.”

Lighting the tip, his eyes sharpen. “You seem like the trustworthy sort. Active, too. I’ll leave you with one more piece of advice. If you ever run into Hood? Don’t mention two things: the Joker, and Batman.”

“I doubt I’ll ever run into him,” Marinette lies.

The man laughs. “I’m a Gotham native, Frenchie. I can tell what kind of person you are. You’ll be meeting him soon, I know. Hood needs someone to watch his back, and you? You need someone to keep your head above water.”

He flicks the ash off the blunt and turns his back on her, and Marinette can’t tell whether he’s showing her respect or belittling her.

Two weeks into her stay in Gotham and Marinette has finally collected enough information about her surroundings to feel confident about going out as Ladybug.

Guns are infinitely more available here in America than they were back in France, which means she needed more than one costume, and an upgrade to her current one. High quality kevlar is good and all, but it’s heavy, and not everyone in Gotham is high off their minds using AKUMA. Replacing kevlar with polythene, now that it’s available to her, is only a natural decision. She has to be more careful here in Gotham. Not only does she have no support network, she’s also highly inexperienced with the terrain. She’s at a disadvantage here.

With a combo polythene and kevlar bodysuit, a crop top with her signature ladybug embroidery on the backside, an all black domino mask, and a utility belt with two yo-yos , knife, and emergency medical supplies, she’s as ready as she ever will be to witness the nightlife first hand.

And just like in Paris, Wenzhou, Beijing, Chongqing, Catania and Bologna, she doesn’t have to go far to find the trouble.

Befana has told her multiple times that Marinette is like a lucky charm for problems. Judging by the amount of time she’s gotten herself into sticky situations unintentionally, she’s inclined to agree, though she’d call herself more of an unlucky charm.

She doesn’t bother speaking, instead hurling one yo-yo at the guy who’s trying to tie up a girl half her age and the other yo-yo at the wheels of his car, to make sure he can’t make a quick getaway.

Ladybug may not use guns, but she never said that her weaponry wasn’t tricked out; yo-yo knocks the guy up the head, sending him down for the count, and yo-yo two slashes through the rubber tire. The man waiting in the car rolls down the window to shoot. Ladybug rolls her eyes. Dumb and dumber. She’s not sure whether he’s trying to preserve his windows or doesn’t realize that rolling down his window leaves him open for her own attacks.

Reeling back in yo-yo one. She hurtles it through the window, presses a button, then ducks. The head of the yo-yo detached and shocks the driver.

“Need help getting home?” Ladybug asks the girl who’s currently edging away from her.

“Who are you? Why did you help me?”

Ladybug shrugs. She’s never been particularly good at explaining herself; Chat took care of most of the conversions within Hawkmoths retinue. She’s good at making the occasionally public statement and making sure people she’s close to don’t stray, but strangers? Most people back in Paris just trusted her blindly, and she never had to think about how to present her reasoning.

She takes two sets of zip ties out of her pack, then restrains her first victim. After she slaps a patch on the tire-- if she is going to take this girl home, she certainly doesn’t want to walk her back in this neighborhood, and judging by the size of the van, there are probably a few people in the back she’ll need to free as well. Ladybug moves on to tie up the guy in the car, back towards the girl. “If you don’t want my help, that’s fine too.”

As soon as she turns, there’s a sharp intake of breath. “You’re with Hood, then.”

Not yet. “M not, actually. Never met the guy. What makes you say that?”

A bout of nervous, high pitched laughter. “The red, maybe. Or, I don’t know, the fact that he’s here and not knocking you out?”

Ladybug whirls, trying to see where the infamous vigilante is. True to the girls word, he is just a little ways down the alleyway they’re currently in, looking, for all intents and purposes, not about to kill her. How pleasant. Better than she was expecting; his temper precedes him, and she was expecting to have to fight with the guy before even dreaming about having a civil discussion with him.

He doesn’t have his hands on his guns, which she takes as a good sign. Taking a good look at him she’s almost surprised that he’s calming himself the Red Hood instead of the Red Helmet, but she supposes the former sounds better.

“Let me finish tying that one up,” Ladybug says.

Red Hood grunts in response.

“So you are working together,” the girl concludes.

Ladybug shrugs again, tapping another button to reattach the head of her yo-yo and grabbing the keys and phone from the driver’s pocket. She pops the back of the van. There are three girls tied up in the back.

Her knife makes quick work of the bonds that restrain them. The girls take the duct tape off their mouths themselves; she feels a deep disgust of the men that are currently knocked unconscious. Not only are they traffickers, but they’re new traffickers. Inexperienced. Duct tape isn’t used most times because it damages the goods. Either that, or they’re organ dealers, because people don’t need the bodies to look pretty when they just want the innards. Judging by the fact that all of the people in the back are girls, she’ll put money on the first one.

“You going to let me drive these girls back before we have our talk?”

“Fine,” Red Hood bites out, moving to sit shotgun. “You move one finger out of line, and I’ll shoot.”

Ladybug tosses the unconscious body out of the driver’s seat.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

@jasonette-july-2k20

#lowkey wanna write the precursor to this where lb and cn take down hm but im lazy #jasonette july #jasonette #jason todd #marinette dupain cheng #villain au #miraculous ladybug #dcu #bamf marinette #original content #maribat #someone save me im drowning in aus #don't know why writing anything after ch 1 seems so hard #i need someone to keep me on track

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misslilli · 3 years ago

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Felix Felicis

MSR. AU. PG-13. | tagging @today-in-fic | read on AO3

Chapter 21 - The Halloween Fair

[ DS ]

On the afternoon of the Halloween fair, I take out the costume that Miss Hannigan picked out for me from the closet. Ever since I’ve got it, I’m beyond excited to wear it. It’s a black low-cut shirt, a white, checkered suit with a blazer that ties at the waist and a flaring skirt. As I put on the blonde wig and the black beret, I turn to the mirror channeling my best inner Faye Dunaway and say to myself in a breathy, southern lilt: “My, my, don’t you just look dandy, Miss Bonnie Parker!”

My friends have been roped into manning the booths of the fair and somehow, I’ve slipped under the town people’s radars, which leaves me able to roam around the fair, albeit alone. Since I’ve known most people in this town ever since I was little, I’m never actually alone at these happenings, people tend to just pull me into their conversation as I walk by. But as luck will have it, as I’m rounding one of the booths of the fair, I find myself face to face with the one person I had secretly hoped to see.

He’s wearing a brown tweed suit with a matching waistcoat and over the white collared shirt he’s tied an emerald green tie. Perched on his head is a white fedora. ‘Shit. He’s Clyde. What the fuck?’

We stop in our tracks and stare at each other for a moment, taking in our respective costumes. He’s the first one to regain his ability to speak.

“Hey Bonnie, the laws are outside, they’re blockin’ the driveway!” His Warren Beatty impression is perfect right down to the Texan drawl. ‘God help me…’

“Gosh, I hope you’ve parked the getaway car around the corner, Clyde!” I’m putting on my best Faye Dunaway impression again as I add a wink to my statement and just continue to walk past him. My heart thumping hard against my chest betrays my cool exterior, but that’s my secret and my secret alone.

----------

[ FM ]

When we finally get to the Halloween fair that Felix has roped me into, dressed up in a costume I didn’t even pick myself. We trail the grounds together and we’re drawn to the candy apple booth. Well actually, Felix draws us to this exact booth, the little sneak, but I can’t resist his pout and pleading eyes, so we end up getting an apple each. Munching away happily, his mouth full, he asks the question I’ve been too scared to ask myself: “Hey dad, do you think Miss Scully is here too with her friends?” I hope she is, if only to see what kind of costume she has picked out for herself, but I can’t tell Felix that. Instead, I just shrug and we continue our stroll across the town square.

When we round another booth, we both stop in our tracks as we see a blonde woman appear before us , dressed in a checkered suit and a beret on her head. ‘Bonnie. She’s the freakin’ Bonnie to your Clyde. Your sidekick. No, your partner in crime. The woman you love. In the movie of course. Insert awkward cough.’.

Felix is oblivious of course, he hasn’t seen the movies and I doubt he even knows what my costume is, let alone Miss Scully’s. I scrape together the last braincells that are left in my head and a stupid movie quote is the only thing I can think of at this moment.

“Hey Bonnie, the laws are outside, they’re blockin’ the driveway!” The retort she gives me combined with her wink render me speechless until she’s well past me and Felix, mingling with the small crowd that welcomes her into their midst just a few feet away from us.

Felix does the thing I wish I could bring myself to do, staring at her retreating form in wonder and he also speaks the words that have sprung to my own mind.

“Wow!”

----------

[ DS ]

Countless conversations later and a little tipsy on the delicious apple cider they always serve at the Halloween fair, I wander along the booths when I hear a voice I haven’t heard in over a year. And could’ve gone forever not hearing again. It’s my ex-whatever Steve, talking to one of his friends.

I’m hidden pretty well in the crowd of people due to my shortness but I can still catch flashes of their conversation. When I hear my name, I stop, straining my ears.

“Dana? Oh God, no. She’s not even close to being a serious contender for a relationship.” I wince at his statement as well as the tone of his voice. “She’s just always there, you know? Like a well trained Golden Retriever, I say the word and she comes running. Such an easy lay!” When they share a laugh I can feel the flush of shame and anger crawl up my neck.

The situation he describes is exactly what I’ve spent countless hours in therapy getting over. But what he says next really drives a stake through my heart. “It’s so pathetic, but if it’s what I have to do to get laid, whatever. She’s even dirtier in bed than any hot teacher fantasy you could ever imagine and what they say about good Catholic girls is very, very accurate, if you know what I mean!”

If he weren’t the demon I have to face every time I try to get over my past, I would’ve revealed myself and give his ass a good kicking for talking about me the way he has. But not knowing how I’ll react to being face-to-face with him, I stay hidden behind a group of mummies and zombies like a fucking coward.

I’m so furious with him and myself for not being able to stand up to him. Where the hell are my friends when I need them? I haven’t seen them all evening and I could really use their company to talk some sense into me. Since they’re nowhere to be found, I head towards the bar set up in the back and slide onto a stool, ordering a shot of Tequila. ‘Fuck it! That low-life is not even worth your time of day!’

On the surface, I’m so angry I want to set this whole damn place on fire, but deep down, the past hurt resurfaces to join the hurt from his words I just heard.

By the time I’ve downed my second shot, I’ve repeated the mantra that I’m a strong woman who’s better off without men in my head about a thousand times. I see someone slide onto the stool next to me out of the corner of my eye as I order another shot of Tequila to keep the two empty glasses in front of me company.

“A third shot of Tequila is just asking for trouble, if you ask me.” I turn my head slowly towards my bar-mate to tell him exactly where to shove his smart-ass remark when I’m faced with my supposed partner in crime, the charming one with the disarmingly innocent smile on his stupid face. I’m staring him down defiantly, my eyes never leaving his while the bartender places my glass in front of me and I grab it, downing it in a swift motion, daring him in my mind to say anything else. He doesn’t comment, good for him, and orders a shot for himself, just raising his glass silently and I clink it with my empty one – I’m tipsy, not insane, chasing one shot with another.

We’re staring straight ahead during our conversation, turning our glasses over and over between our fingers.

“Which guy seems to be the problem and how many rounds of ammo do I need to take him out?,” he asks after minutes of silence. I want to lean into him for just assuming that it’s a man that has me sitting here seething, but unfortunately, he’s right. This one time.

“How many rounds you got?” He scoffs at that.

“Plenty. And I know of exactly eleven ways to get rid of a body without raising suspicion.”

“And here I was thinking the FBI frowned upon their employees giving out top-level secrets on how to hide away evidence of a crime committed.”

“I’m not going to tell you, I wouldn’t want you to be held in contempt of Congress when questioned.”

“How do you know I wouldn’t rat you out when questioned by Congress?”

“Just a hunch… Talk to me, Red. What happened tonight?” He turns towards me and I can feel his gaze dancing over the skin of my face.

“You really want to know? Well, turns out the asshole of an ex of mine decided that today might be the perfect time to make an encore appearance in my life and reminded me again why I should’ve kicked him to the curb a long time ago instead of hoping I could change him.” Looking down at the bar, I trace my finger through the condensation drops, my anger slowly dissipating and my voice growing more and more quiet. “I heard him say some pretty awful things about me tonight.”

I relax into his hand when he places it comfortingly on my back, right between my shoulder blades, and huff out a sigh. “I’m sorry.,” is the only thing he says, but doesn’t add anything else, giving me the choice if I wanted to elaborate or not.

“What I witnessed today was the way he’s always been but I just couldn’t see through the masquerade of the sweet guy, he was so kind and said all the right things and he quite literally wooed the pants off me from the get-go.”

“Love bombing.” ‘Oh yeah, I forgot, you’re a profiler. You probably already got one worked out for me, trust-issues, anxious attachment style, possibly daddy issues, in short, a hot mess. Avoid at all costs.’

“Pretty much, yeah. And I was stupid enough to believe it.” I raise my hand to call over the bartender for another round.

“You’re not stupid. It’s hard to tell the difference between genuine interest and love bombing in the beginning.” ‘Yeah, no shit Sherlock. It’s exactly why I’m sitting here torn between wanting you to make a pass at me and being absolutely terrified that you actually will.’

“How about we pass on the shots and get some water instead before calling it a night?”

“I think that’s probably a good idea, Mr. Mulder!”

“You know, after tonight, what do you say we just drop the Mister?” I nods slowly, pursing my lips.

“So just Fox?” He makes a pained face.

“No, please don’t. Just Mulder is fine.”

“Mh-hm. I guess since we’re dropping the titles, that that makes me Scully? Little odd, but alright!”

We get the check and argue back and forth about who gets to pay, him putting an end to it with a firm “Will you give it a rest, you’ll get to pick up the next check!”.

In my attempt to slide off the barstool gracefully despite three tequila shots, my heel catches onto the rail at the bottom and I stumble over the stool, knocking it over in the process. I have only his quick reflexes to thank that I don’t follow suit, his arms catching me around my waist and pulling me upright again.

He has the audacity to laugh, the bastard, and I’m beyond mortified. “Easy there, partner! Do you need a ride home? Felix is at a pajama party at his friend Suzie’s house, so I’m free to be your pumpkin carriage for tonight.” ‘NO! Yes? No. Get your hands off me. Don’t let go just yet.’

I’m so confused at the tug of war in my fuzzy head but I hate getting a cab alone and I’m in heels on top of being tipsy, I don’t want to walk home alone at night.

As we walk out, his hand finds his way to the small of my back guiding me through the crowds while making sure I don’t stumble again.

On the drive to the beach house, I manage not to fall asleep despite how tired I feel, too afraid of snoring or, God forbid, drooling onto myself. His hands find my back again guiding me up the stairs to the front door and I turn to face him at the top, even more nervous.

“Thanks for the ride, Mulder. And for listening.”

“Anytime, Scully. Good night!”

When he leans in, I start to panic that this is it and I think it shows on my face, because he only kisses my cheek, just like I did after the birthday party before getting back in the car and heading home. I can’t decide if I’m relieved or disappointed.

I can’t ignore the flutter of excitement every time his hands land anywhere on my body but what I will absolutely deny, even to myself, is the way my heart constricts in my chest when he gazes at me that way and the sense of comfort that settles over me when we’re together.

Bodily reactions I can deal with, it’s when it comes to emotions is where it gets scary.

I just don’t think my heart can survive another Steve.

#xf #the x files #xf fanfic #msr #felix felicis #🥺

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whumpster-fire · 4 years ago

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Extremely Hot His Dark Materials Take:

The conventional wisdom that daemons’ settled forms represent who you truly are as a person and are a unique, symbolic representation of it is what’s said in-universe but it isn’t true, or at the very least isn’t the whole truth. IDC what Philip Pullman’s said is actually canon, stuff like “Servants usually have dog demons because they have a submissive/servile nature” is really not plausible fite me.

Animal symbolism is a social construct and is not universal among cultures, and just like the alethiometer symbols, an animal species can have many meanings. As a result, for any one person there are usually many species which are a “valid” representation of their soul, and which one their daemon actually settles as is not set in stone from birth. Daemons don’t consciously choose their settled form - and humans certainly don’t - but it reflects a variety of influences, including symbolic “nature” but also cultural influences, social pressures, what animals the daemon actually knows about, the nature of the relationship between the human and daemon, and what forms are physically comfortable or practical. But the common uniting factor in all of those is that a daemon’s form reflects what you want and need as much as what you are. Not superficial wants, but deep deep psychological needs and what’s important to you. And sometimes fears as well.

Factor #1: Societal Bias

Strong cultural predispositions toward settled form, combined with form stereotyping. I think it was said in the books that “most servants had dog daemons because deep down they wanted to be told what to do.” Think about this: is this likely to be true? Given that people generally wind up in jobs by luck of the draw and by what’s available, and most people even in the most socially mobile modern societies usually don’t end up in their “true calling,” and in Lyra’s world your occupation seems to very often be determined by your birth. Do you really think all the kids like Roger Parslow, who’s working as a kitchen boy because his aunt who was a servant at Jordan College raised him, are naturally subservient? Well, is everyone who works in a service industry job IRL naturally subservient? Hell no! However, this is a very, very convenient lie for a classist society that teaches people that they were born into a “station” in society to tell. If your daemon settles as a dog, obviously you were meant to be a servant all along, and you and your daemon spending your entire childhood being told that because this is the station you’re being born and raised into your daemon should be a dog or some other “appropriate” form and couldn’t possibly cause them to be biased towards canine forms by this.

But if a daemon takes a form that’s obviously unfit for their station, clearly your true calling is elsewhere and it was never truly meant to be. It’s hard to falsify as long as most daemons are settling in “expected” forms. And most do, at least to an extent. A daemon’s form is influenced by drives and desires, and while most people don’t necessarily want to be bossed around and told what to do, most people do want to fit in.

And having fairly broad categories of “expected” can help that, because that gives room for daemons to find a form within that category that genuinely fits their nature. Someone extremely independent and strong-willed but growing up always expected to be a servant might end up with a husky daemon. Someone with a leading (or even controlling) personality might have a herding breed. The same goes for Gyptians and Witches being expected to usually have bird daemons.

On the other hand people with certain daemon forms might also be actively recruited for certain jobs, based on both symbolism and the physical abilities of that form - e.g. the Tartar mercenaries and other soldiers seem to almost all have wolf daemons. These may be very common in their culture to begin with, and then there’s further selection based on the symbolism of “You’re a wolf, you’re powerful, noble, and a natural killer but you’re a loyal pack animal, you’d make a great soldier.” But then in addition to that, because of the no touching rules, people in jobs where they fight other people are at an advantage if their daemon can fight other daemons.

Factor #2: Age

Settling age is... around early-to-mid puberty it seems like. I’ve seen speculation that it would be later in more modern societies as the age of maturity drifts over, but it seems like 12-14 is fairly common. But brain development continues until around 25. Like... seriously. Daemons are settling when their humans would be middle-schoolers in our world. People mature and change a huge amount in that decade of “settled but not fully mature.” Unless daemons can presciently predict how they’ll change over time - or if the soul’s nature is fixed and people tend to change in away that approaches that over time - your daemon’s form may be based on what you were like at settling age.

Factor #3: Knowledge and Familiarity

His Dark Materials is mostly based in Europe / Northern Eurasia, and the vast, vast majority of the settled daemon forms in the novels are native to that region. Off the top of my head the exceptions are Stelmaria (a snow leopard, native to the Himalayas but that’s still an animal she and Lord Asriel could have encountered / read about as a child), Mrs. Coulter’s daemon (a monkey, I don’t think we’re ever told what species. Not native to Europe but again Marisa had the resources to travel, read about exotic species, visit zoos, etc and everything about them is weird, IIRC the African soldiers in Amber Spyglass had various african daemon forms (so, where they’re actually from), and Hester. Hester’s the most important because while she took the form of an arctic hare, which is native to North America where Lee’s from, her form is native to a completely different part of North America, that she and Lee probably wouldn’t have been familiar with, and it took years for anyone including her to even notice.

This suggests daemons may be able to take forms that are unknown to them, but we never see a raccoon or an oppossum or a bobcat or some australian animal as a daemon as far as I know, so my best guess is that they had some secondhand knowledge of the arctic and had at least seen what an Arctic Hare looked like but forgot how to tell one apart from a jackrabbit, Hester had an unconscious longing for the North that neither of them were aware of, and she had a strong and possibly less-unconscious desire to get the hell out of Texas at sometime around settling age. And they assumed she was a jackrabbit because daemons usually don’t take forms they’re not familiar with.

Factor #4: Physical Preference

A daemon is not a shadow or a heraldic crest - they’re not just an insubstantial symbolic reflection. A daemon is an integral part of a person’s being, and they are one, but at the same time the daemon are a living, breathing creature even if their physical body is unstable. One soul, two bodies, two minds, two personalities. Their form subjects them to some - although not all - of the physical abilities and limitations that animal would have, and the same sensations.

Again, a daemon’s form is often influenced by what’s important to them, and to the pair. Most daemons take on a huge number of forms throughout childhood, and there are some things about those forms that are important to them. For some daemons the freedom of movement of flight is a fun, childish thing to play around with, and perhaps tactically useful, but it isn’t torture to give it up. For others, flight and the freedom it represents are their very heart and to be bound to a grounded form forever would be unbearable. Some can’t give up the ability to take small forms that can hide and go unnoticed, but some hate the vulnerability and helplessness of small size and could never be happy in a form that can’t walk alongside their human without fear of being kicked or stepped on. Some can’t give up the joy of swimming, or climbing, and for some their humans can’t. The daemon of someone who is a mountaineer and climber in their soul won’t be a snapping turtle. And... this is complicated, because part of it’s the human’s nature, but part of it is tied up in experiences which the human can feel too, and that are important to them, but they don’t experience in quite the same way.

Sometimes it’s just too convenient. Witches’ daemons are nearly always birds because witches spend much of their time in the air and can separate from their daemons, and only with flight of their own can a daemon take advantage of this power; in a flightless form they would take far longer to travel any distance, and their witches would have to land every time they separated or reunited. Another animal, like a fox or a mink or a rabbit, might fit with a witch’s nature too, but a witch’s daemon will become a hawk or a heron or a dove instead.

And sometimes a certain from is just comfortable and it just feels right even though the symbolism might not fit the stereotypes.

Factor #5: Human-Daemon Relationships

This is something I talked about a bit in my post about autism and daemons: the form a daemon settles as is often affected by the nature of their relationship with their human.

First of all: barring severe internal conflict or mental illness, while a daemon’s settled form is not chosen by the human and does not follow their whims, they don’t take a form that makes their shared life inconvenient and miserable. Out of how many sailors, John Faa and Farder Corram knew what, one guy with a dolphin daemon? Usually sailors’ daemons would be seabirds or otters, or animals like cats and rats that aren’t technically aquatic but are well-adapted to living on a boat. Does this mean that the sea isn’t their true love? No: it means no matter how much you love the sea being trapped on a ship for their entire life (and not even the entire ship: how high in the rigging can you climb without going too far from your daemon who can’t leave the water?) sucks and is actively dangerous. Imagine your ship is wrecked and your daemon carries you to shore through the storm (because humans die of hypothermia if left in the water too long in many parts of the oceans)... except you’re literally unable to get out of reach of the crashing waves that will drown you, sweep you away, or batter you to death, without dragging your daemon up the beach and then they’re stranding and dying, and you can’t go get fresh water which your body needs because your soul is an anchor binding you to the water. How many things that are a sailor’s job are you unable to do because you can’t go more than like ten yards from water deep enough to swim in?

Daemons do not consciously choose their forms, but their subconscious is not stupid. Taking a form like a dolphin doesn’t mean the daemon is symbolically expressing their nature, it means the human is denying it to the point where their own daemon is afraid of being torn away from it and cannot trust their human. But again, this event is happening at middle-school age, so what’s likely happening is something like a 14-year-old cabin boy falling in love with a girl in town and wanting to marry her and move inland and abandon the sea forever, and his daemon being horrified by the idea and wanting to make sure it can. not. happen. ever. And then both of their lives are ruined. Meanwhile the other cabin boy on the boat had a non-dysfunctional relationship with his daemon, who settled as a seagull and trusts that when he goes to visit family a little ways inland for a couple days it won’t be permanent.

Anyway: disregarding dysfunctional people like Mrs. Coulter, some humans and daemons are more physically affectionate with their counterparts than others, and in different ways.

Some pairs are happy spending most of their time at the edge of their not-painful range. Some pairs are perfectly comfortable with the daemon taking a tiny form and hiding in their human’s coat pocket most of the time and sneaking around the rest, and with the daemon hardly ever speaking to other humans, and that closeness and the moments of being held in the palm of their human’s hand and being stroked gently with one or two fingers is perfect for them. Some pairs are content with the distance a form like a bird of prey imposes, where the daemon must perch near their human because their claws would injure them if they landed on their shoulder or arm without protective clothing.

But many people and daemons are more “touchy” with each other, for whom the physical nature of the bond between human and daemon cannot possibly be given up. Some daemons settle in the forms they took to fly, or to hide, or spy, or fight, but many settle in the forms they took to rest, to soothe and comfort, to lick wounds and let their fur or feathers be stroked, to share body heat, and sometimes to help hold their humans upright or drag them to safety. Some pairs are content with the daemon sleeping on windowsills or perched on bedposts or on nightstands, or under beds or at the feet of them, but some curl up under the covers together whenever they can.

In less poetic terms, daemons settling in fluffy, huggable forms because they and their humans have a deep-seated need to cuddle with each other is just as valid as daemons settling as birds because they need the freedom of flight.

This is often the case for children whose need for touch is not met properly by others, or those for whom it is too much, or it cannot be trusted. Parents, friends, and lovers aren’t always there, but they are always there for each other. But there’s not always trauma or neglect involved, and it’s not always people who have few or no close and intimate bounds outside themselves. Plenty of content, well-adjusted people still have relationships like this with their daemons because we’re human beings and touch is important to us, and it doesn’t really matter if you share a soul.

#His Dark Materials fandom #daemon #silly headcanons

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trashforhockeyguys · 4 years ago

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Don’t Hold Me -11- Carter Hart

A/N: Buckle up? That’s really all I can say. Get ready.

It was quiet inside the spare bedroom. Despite the lights of the city beneath you, it was quiet and lonely. Everytime you closed your eyes you saw another scene from your previous life. Another time where you’d been hurt, and yet you’d lied about all of it to spare him. You wouldn’t be able to get back those years that you lost because you were convinced he loved you. You were convinced that if you just covered up for him, that he’d stick to his promise and things would be different. They never were different though.

You sat up in a cold sweat. Your body seemed to burn. You almost thought that if you rolled up the sleeves of your sweatshirt, that you’d see the bruises again. You shook in the bed. You normally felt safe here, but now you just felt scared and alone.

You carefully climbed out of the bed. You weren’t even sure if Carter was still awake. It was the middle of the night, and you knew they’d had a long practice this morning. He was most likely already asleep. But you couldn’t stand to be left alone to the dreams. He already knew you had nightmares, did it really matter why they were back with such a fury?

There was no light coming from under his door, yet you opened it anyway. He was sprawled out on his stomach. You could see his hair splayed out over his face. He looked peaceful in a way you hadn’t seen before. There was nothing but peace about him.

Before you could talk yourself out of it, you slowly made your way over to the bed. There was just enough space for you to slip in and go relatively unnoticed. You could explain why you were there in the morning. You probably wouldn’t sleep much anyway. Not now.

You carefully peeled back the blanket and tried to slide into the bed without moving too much. He stirred, drawing in a sharp breath.Through the dim light you could see his eyes open and the sleep filled confusion. He still moved over to allow you a little more space.

“Are you okay?” His voice was deep, laced with sleep, but still soft.

You shook your head, not trusting your voice. You could hear him sigh slightly and lift the blankets more for you, “C’mon.”

Despite this being the first time you’d ever even thought about getting in the same bed as him, he acted as if it was the most normal thing in the world. Or maybe he just understood that you wouldn’t be here unless you really needed him.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asked as he wrapped the blanket around you and tucked you into his arms.

You shook your head again and fought the tears that burned your eyes. You didn’t want to cry with him again, but you couldn’t help it. You were so tired and scared of even walking outside. You tried to act like you weren’t afraid, but every little thing scared you. Because he was still here in the city. He was watching you. He was waiting for the perfect time to get a hold of you. And you knew that. You knew it was only a matter of time. But what were you supposed to do? You had school, a life. You couldn’t just hide out for the rest of the semester and hope that he got tired of waiting around for you to show up. Because you knew he wouldn’t. He’d keep waiting, and if he couldn’t get you, he’d go through anyone he had to.

“Shh, it’s okay,” Carter whispered, kissing the top of your head, “You’re safe. I’ve got you.”

You shook your head and clutched onto him. You wanted to feel safe for just a moment. You wondered if he could share his peace with you. But you could feel his strong arms around you, holding you close to him.

Hot tears fell down your cheeks before you could stop them. Your whole body shook in his arms as he tried to calm you down. His bed was warm and inviting. Being close to him was almost enough to quell your fears. Almost..

“Nightmares?”

You nodded slowly, still not sure if you could even get a word out. He seemed to understand that they’d gotten bad. And although he still never told you about the first night you spent here, he couldn’t help but remember the way you’d wake up screaming. Or how you were begging for someone to stop.

His heart broke because he knew he couldn’t really do anything to help you or make them stop. So he held you and hoped that one day your mind would heal like your body had. He hoped that your heart wouldn’t stay broken forever. Because even though he knew he couldn’t tell you, Carter was falling madly in love with you. He loved every bit of you, even the broken parts. So if a few sleepless nights were the price he had to pay, he’d do it.

“I’ll chase the boogeyman away if he comes back,” He tried to joke. He just wanted to see you smile, just once.

He wanted you to feel safe with him. But he also wanted to understand what was going on. All of the sudden you seemed so much worse than you’d been. Patty told him when he’d come over that you and TK had gotten in a fight. But Patty wouldn’t tell him what it was about.

Carter would be lying if he said he wasn’t worried about you, the beautiful and strong girl, that was crying in his arms. He wished he could help you somehow. He wasn’t used to feeling useless, but that’s all he felt.

So he just held you as you cried, and eventually drifted off to sleep. You were so still in his arms. He watched you for what felt like hours, hoping you’d sleep soundly through the rest of the night. Every so often, you would shift a little and snuggle deeper into the bed. He’d smile and hold you a little tighter. He could feel his chest ache. For a second, Carter wished this could be every night, and that nightmares weren’t the thing that drove you to his bed for the first time. He knew you’d apologize in the morning. You’d keep saying you didn’t mean to. You’d find a way to seemingly talk yourself out of this small moment.

But to him, it wasn’t a small moment at all. He was holding you while you slept, which had only happened once before. But he was holding you while in his bed. You’d come to him, you’d trusted him enough to be here.

He wished you trusted him more, he wanted you to feel comfortable with him. Like how you did with Travis. But he knew he couldn’t push you, and he wouldn’t dream of it. He didn’t want to risk spooking you. So he’d be patient and he’d wait. Carter would wait for as long as you needed him to. So he held you, and he waited.

You woke up early the next morning, instantly feeling warm and cozy. You nuzzled into the blankets, not wanting to move yet. It took you a few moments to realize that there was an extra weight on you, and the bed felt different. You shot up, looking around you in a panic. You couldn’t remember where you were.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Carter was sitting up with you within seconds. His hand was on your shoulder, trying to calm you, “It’s okay, Y/N.”

You shook your head and started to move the blankets off of you. Panic was setting in. This wasn’t meant to happen. You weren’t meant to wake up here. You felt mortified, you’d hoped coming to his bed was just a dream.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” You rushed to say, “I- I woke you up last night. I’m so sorry. We can just forget it happened.”

“Y/N, slow down,” Carter didn’t want you to panic like this, “It’s okay. Really, you needed sleep more than I did.”

You shook your head. Your heart was hammering in your chest. Why did you think this was a good idea? You shouldn’t have gotten out of your bed. Or maybe you shouldn’t have even stayed the night. You could’ve gone back to your dorm. You shouldn’t be in this situation.

“Hey, come here,” he said softly, “It’s okay. I’d rather you wake me up when you’re having nightmares. I don’t want you to feel like you have to deal with all of this on your own. Okay? I’m here, no matter what.”

Your body slowly relaxed. Although you never wanted to lean on anyone like this. You didn’t like the feeling. But you knew he meant what he was saying. But that still didn’t mean you were ready to depend on him. Your heart wanted to, but your head kept reminding you of everything that could happen.

You trusted Carter, you wouldn’t be in his apartment, much less his bed, if you didn’t. But that didn’t mean that you weren’t terrified of every moment. You knew that all of this could end in a split second. He could just as easily stop being the great guy. You tried so hard not to think about things like that, but you couldn’t help it.

But before you could even let yourself overthink it anymore, your phone started ringing. You’d forgotten that you even brought it into the bedroom with you. You sighed when you saw your roommate’s name on the screen, which gave you an excuse to get out of the bed, just so you could have a few seconds to breathe.

“Kora, hey. Sorry, I meant to text you and tell you I wasn’t coming back last night but-”

“I don’t give a rat’s ass, Carter texted me anyway,” She replied, “But, you did forget to mention your brother was coming.”

“What?”

“Your brother is in our dorm room.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“For fuck’s sake, Ethan is literaly five feet from me,” She groaned, “I don’t know how many other ways I can say that. Jesus, you’re supposed to be the smart one! He said he’s coming to get you for breakfast.”

“What’s going on?” Carter asked from behind you.

You turned, still trying to wrap your head around the fact that your brother was here in Philly. He didn’t even tell you he was coming. You hadn’t talked to him all week. Last you heard, he was working on getting a coaching job for one of the local travel teams.

“My brother is here.”

“Ethan?”

“Yeah, um...Kora said he’s in our dorm. I uh...I have to go.”

“Okay, I’ll drive you.”

“No...Ethan is coming to get me.”

You felt a little dazed. There was too much going on for you to process. You didn’t even like going out now, but you couldn’t tell Ethan that. He didn’t need to know how you were feeling. How scared you were of everything. And Carter...you felt so many things about him. You didn’t even know how to sort through everything you felt about him and for him.

Everything was confusing for you. But you didn’t really have the time to sort through it, not with Ethan apparently on his way to get you. You tried not to think about the fact that Travis might’ve called him and told him what was going on. You hoped that he didn’t know. You didn’t want him to worry more than he already did.

“I’ll call you later,” You told Carter.

You only made it a few steps before he stopped you. His eyes were soft as he brushed some stray hair out of your face. You weren’t used to anyone looking at you like that. You couldn’t exactly tell what he was thinking either. He was a mystery to you.

“Don’t push me away,” he practically begged.

You felt your heart ache. You wished you knew how to tell him what you felt. You wished you could tell him what was going on. You wanted to reassure him, just as he reassured you everyday. But you didn’t know how.

So, you did the only thing you knew how to do. You leaned up and gently kissed him before wrapping your arms around him. You laid your head on his chest. You could feel his heartbeat, strong and steady. His arms held you tightly. He understood that this was all you could give him. But he didn’t dare take it for granted, he knew that this was a very large step for you.

“I’ll call you, I promise.”

It wasn’t until he heard the front door shut that he sat back down on his bed and finally said the words that were bouncing around in his head for weeks now, “I love her.”

Downstairs, you waited on the sidewalk for Ethan to pull up. He’d texted to say he was just a few minutes out. You kept bouncing on your feet to try to stay warm. Your cheeks were red as you finally thought about the fact that you spent most of the night cuddled up next to Carter. You slept in his arms. You felt safe with him. You were so distracted with the idea that you were most certainly falling in love with Carter, that you didn’t even notice the man walking towards you. Until you heard the voice that stopped your heart and sent your whole body into survival mode.

“Hello, Y/N.”

When you turned, his smile alone was enough to make your blood run cold. You were frozen where you stood. He found you.

#carter hart imagines #Carter hart imagine #carter hart fanfic #carter hart fanfiction #Carter hart #nhl imagines #nhl imagine #nhl fanfic #nhl fanfiction #hockey imagines #hockey imagine #hockey fanfic #hockey fanfiction #flyers imagine #flyers imagines #nicolewritesthings

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words-writ-in-starlight · 4 years ago

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on one hand I get that Andy is Bitter and Jaded™ but on the other hand Nile is already pretty scared about the whole situation and I don't know anyone who would take finding out that they are a new immortal by dying well so I'm like "andy pls be nice she is just a wee one" also nicky and joe have completely stolen my heart and I'm only 40 mins into the movie help

okay I was the earlier anon (if tumblr didn't eat my ask) and I finished the movie and I understand more and hope I didn't sound like I was unnecessarily bashing on andy for being "mean" to nile if that makes sense

Oh, not to worry, I didn’t take it that way at all! Honestly it’s one of the things I love most about The Old Guard (what am talking about, everything is what I love most about this movie): it’s an action movie, a superhero movie, that does the jaded tired mentor trope without making that person intolerably unkind. Andy is really bitter! She is really jaded! And she has every right to be! She’s fought the good fight for thousands upon thousands of years, and she has never once been in a position to see real payoff. Without any evidence that she’s been making a difference, she’s still marched into battle and stood up for what she thinks is right, even though the mortals she’s been protecting have done horrible things--to each other, to her people, to her. Of course she’s so goddamn tired that she’s finally, finally, reaching the end of her rope.

But...

The Guard loves Andy! The scene of her meeting Joe and Nicky at the beginning, where she cups Nicky’s head in her hand and Joe spins her around while she thumps him on the back??? The affectionately wry way Booker keeps assuring Nile “that’s not the signal,” in the tone of someone who’s been watching Andy wreck shop for two centuries and kinda loves her for it??? I mean, goddamn, Nile and Andy are at odds for half the movie, but even so, Nile throws herself in front of bullets and off buildings without hesitation, for a woman who embodies the total destruction of her life! Nile brings Andy’s labrys to the lab, because Andy might be mortal and she might’ve been shot but Nile refuses to give up on her until she sees proof positive that Andy doesn’t need that axe anymore.

And I think it’s because Andy is still so affectionate, that it works for me. I’m honestly sick to the teeth of the jaded tired mentor trope, because it so consistently just presents as--Naive Young Character Is Berated And Insulted For A Whole Movie And Bears It Stoically And Eventually The Mentor Sees The Light, or more commonly the alternative ending of Naive Young Character Is Broken And Jaded And Understands That Mentor Was Right All Along.

And this isn’t like that. Andy is sharp with Nile at first, hard on her, but like--goddamn, I really understand why. First of all, “well, you can’t die and neither can I and if you go back and admit that to your superior officers, they will make you a lab rat forever, so how about instead we go to France” is...a hard sell. I get why she went for Show over Tell, with that being the situation on the table. I mean, damn, I bet she stabbed Booker, too. But second of all, Andy is just off the worst case scenario. Her family was tricked into exposing themselves, on purpose, to someone who wants that information for purposes yet unknown but certainly nefarious. She doesn’t have time to bring Nile in gradually. She could’ve been nicer! But she couldn’t have been slower.

And then--once Andy is back on steadier ground, in a safehouse with people she trusts, she’s not--softer. But she’s not cruel. She doesn’t berate Nile for wanting to speak to her family, she doesn’t call her stupid and naive for not knowing how to handle this. When Nile says she won’t go with them to get Joe and Nicky, that she doesn’t want to kill people, that she wants to spend time with the people she loves, Andy lets her go. It’s not a test, it’s not some reverse psychology bullshit, it’s just--

Andy sees that Nile is young and scared and hopelessly out of her depth, and she decides I don’t want to break this girl, I don’t want to hurt her, I don’t think this is a good idea but I want her to live her life with as much joy as possible.

Andy is bitter and jaded and tired and old, so fucking old, but she’s not unkind. She shows love freely, she feels everything down to her bones, she looks at Nile (she’s only a baby, she says, heartsick over the picture Joe draws) and she doesn’t make Nile prove herself, just instantly and unflinchingly extends her family to include this new lost orphan of mortality.

I think the thing that makes me love Andy in all her world-weariness is that, even after all her thousands of years of exhaustion, she is the kind of person who, against her better judgement, puts her secret, her family, her immortal freedom at risk, because she wants to save some kids.

#the old guard #andromache of scythia #andromache the scythian #I! LOVE! HER!#I LOVE HER!!!!!#i have a whole Thesis about why andy thinks that nile has the potential to be...well. her.#it's about the 'i go first' scene and i am absolutely dying over it #i really want to write a fic of the next time joe and nicky and nile go on a mission--a mission to dangerous for their newly mortal leader #(even in the body armor that nile has forced her to buy and adapt to)#and they're at the door of the target location and nile puts her shoulders back and says in an undertone 'i go first'#nicky and joe shoot her a look as if to say 'are you sure'#and over their comms andy says with a smile in her voice 'she goes first'#a queue we will keep and our honor someday avenge #Anonymous #asked and answered

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tarithenurse · 4 years ago

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Spark - 21

Fandom: Enn Enn no Shouboutai / Fire Force. Pairing: Shinmon Benimaru x fem!reader. Content: Angst, death, loads of bad things including lack of proofing. A/N: I know I should feel bad for this, but I don’t. Feel free to ASK (or reblog) for tag – in fact: always reblog. Thanks to those who have already <3

21. Ignite

... Reader ...

You’re not sure what you had expected and still you’re taken by surprise at the devastation a single insect causes.

Spreading from the impact spot on the girl’s chest, flames spring up and engulf the small figure, making the skin crackle and clothes melt. The worst part is the scream: the high pitched wail has turned into whimpers but even that is changing as you watch in horror. It’s becoming guttural. Gravelly.

“What a shame,” Giovanni’s voice tuts from somewhere behind you, “I always hope it’s the one. Always wish for the spark.”

Always...how many? “You’re insane.”

“It’s science,” he dismisses you.

Flesh seethes and bubbles, the stench quickly filling the room together with the heat of the flames, and you know it won’t be long now. When an infernal is fully formed (their previous life reduced to charcoal and blackened bones) the hunger sets in. Already, the girl’s shape is falling into the posture of a mad and starving animal trying to smell out its prey...and you’re first in line.

“Let me go.” You hate the tremor in your voice as you try to appeal to Giovanni’s kinder side. Does he have any? “Let my hands free at least!”

Eye sockets filled with fire zero in on your struggling shape and a wicked grin splits the blackened skull. Here she comes. The infernal’s first words are barely audible above the roaring flames, but you know what they are anyways because they always are the same – infernals are hungry for souls, for craving the heat of fire while still hating the pain as the last of their consciousness roasts forever.

You know, she can’t burn you. Compared to anyone else who might have been in this situation, you’re actually kind of safe...or you would have been if the fact that the flames won’t touch you is exactly what has gotten you into this mess in the first place. That and the fact that I can’t shut up and keep my head down, you berate yourself.

A skeletal hand reaches out, and you instantly recoil. “No! Don’t touch me!” It pauses as if considering your words and the fear powers you on. “The one behind me, take him...please. Not me, take him instead.“ Tears barely make it onto your cheeks before they evaporate from the blazing heat and you can’t keep your eyes open any longer as it prickles and burns. “Don’t touch me...”

The light shifts together with the scorching air, passing beside you and leaving the front of your body suddenly shivering at the change in temperature.

“Interesting,” the mad doctor comments.

There’s a muted crunch, then the flickering light dies together with the last of an innocent girl.

... Benimaru ...

Dark and damp, the Nether seems to exist in a different world altogether. The sounds of rats scurrying out of the way can be heard sometimes, but mostly it’s just the footsteps of the two men making their way along tracks that haven’t seen activity for centuries, maybe.

Once, they’d gotten to an area where stairs led upwards only to be blocked by rubble. Another time, they’d to edge past an abandoned vehicle, the stretched shape askew on the rails and the seats behind the dusty windows offering room for nothing but shadows and a hint of the old world.

That was hours ago.

“You don’t know where we’re going,” Benimaru drawls, “do you?”

Joker shuffles an unlit cigarette to the other corner of the mouth. “Never said I knew exactly where she’d be.”

On and on the walk, none of them saying much except when the path diverges and they must choose a direction. The captain hates it. Sure, Konro often tries to teach him to think first and act later, but there is nothing to consider here except making sure to be able to find the way out again – a task that’s ensured by stacking rubble every 200 meter.

Maybe we should’ve taken the left back there? It’s easy to second-guess everything down here where the cold slowly tries to seep into their bones. Benimaru doesn’t care about the subterranean climate: as long as he hasn’t reached his goal, nothing else matters. It appears Joker is of the same opinion. What does he want from her?

“Wait...” the man in questions pauses, slowly picking the cigarette from between the lips, “do you feel that?”

Benimaru has already figured out that his “friend’s” senses are sharp despite the dopey mannerisms, so he stops as well and tries to sharpen his senses. The thick soles of his boots doesn’t allow him to feel if there are vibrations, but not even the lightest pebbles shift in their spots – only a cobweb waves silently from the broken sign hanging above them. It’s moved by the faintest of breezes that also caresses Benimaru’s cheeks with a hint of warmth as it blows past, carrying the scent of dust and mould.

Wait. ”Warm air,” he gasps.

Whatever is causing it, it’s worth checking out and the men continue into the darkness.

... Reader ...

“Please...please do-do-don’t!” Your heart is beating loudly in your ears but it’s not enough to drown out the clicking noises of the beetle. “You c-can’t...please!”

But you know Giovanni not only can but also will because he’s got the beetle gripped with a pair of elongated tweezers and is steadily coming closer. He’s drawing it out, though, revelling in the panic you can’t hold back any longer as it begins to black out everything else.

“You should be proud,” his voice comes from far away, “the scientific importance of this is unparalleled! And the honour! If this works...it means you’ve been chosen to usher in the Second Cataclysm.”

“No...I don’t want...no, please don-”

You’re startled by the searing sensation as the insect lands on you and burns through the cloth of the jumpsuit. So this is how it feels. Flames have never caused you pain before and for a second, you can only think of this searing as if it’s freezing your skin, but as embers spread beneath your skin and smoke rises...Now I know what it’s like to burn.

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wille-zarr · 5 years ago

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The Mandalorian: “We Have a Deal”

In Fields of White ~ Chapter One ~ “We Have a Deal”

masterlist / next chapter

pairing: din djarin (the mandalorian) x f!reader

warnings: rated T for violence; reference to mild injuries; death; mild swearing; mentions of hunger

word count: 4.1k

summary: fleeing from the life you wish more than anything to forget, you are left to navigate the galaxy alone as a wide-eyed wanderer. in the process of evading the dangers linked to your previous life, your destiny is forever altered when you cross paths with an intimidating mandalorian and his unusually gifted child.

a/n: first, i must thank my amazing beta readers @sana-katarn @disneyjedi19 @barrissoffee77 for their fantastic feedback and for cheering me on throughout this whole process. secondly, i must thank @kaminobiwan @royalhandmaidens @fancycheesebread @arda-ancalima @babyomen @highlycommendable for their kind comments and enthusiasm towards this story. i can’t thank you all enough. i can’t even put into words just how much it means to me. i love you all very much, and i am so excited to begin the adventure that is in fields of white.

also found on: Ao3

In Fields of White

Chapter One: “We Have a Deal”

Reflecting upon the events of your life, you decide you must be either the luckiest or most cursed person in the galaxy.

Current events have you leaning towards the latter.

With a frustrated grunt, you squint your eyes against the dust billowing down the street. Reaching up to your hat, you lower a pair of goggles to rest securely around your eyes. You mutter curses when you feel sand rattling around in the lenses, trapped inside by the whipping wind.

You slightly lift the scarf pressed against your mouth and spit, ridding your mouth of the dust turning to mud. At this point, six weeks into your miserable residence on the tiny planet of Taek, you must have consumed enough dust and dirt to birth a new desert planet.

Grumbling complaints to yourself, you tighten the scarf around your face as you stalk down the street, avoiding eye contact with anyone or anything for too long. You learned that lesson the first week on Taek after a tussle with a Twi’lek.

In your defense, you were only trying to be friendly, but, apparently, Taek didn’t have much in the way of locals, only smugglers and pirates looking for a quick refuel and refresh. Prolonged eye contact and a friendly “hello” with those kinds sometimes didn’t end too terribly well. The fading bite mark on your arm proved as much.

Hoping to rid yourself of the dust that seemed to penetrate everything this dirtball had to offer, you slip in between two buildings, allowing yourself a reprieve from the sandstorm whipping down the street. You loosen your scarf, shaking your head as sand pours from it like a waterfall.

“Damn it,” you grumble. “I shouldn’t be hungry after all the sand I’ve swallowed.” You spit more dirt out of your mouth as if to prove your point.

Satisfied that you’ve ridded yourself of as much dirt as possibly achievable on a planet full of dirt, you turn your attention back towards assessing Taek’s current batch of inhabitants.

Taek’s only starport held a different crowd of creatures every couple of days. Outside of the few storekeepers, cantina-owners, and brothels, you are convinced Taek holds no permanent residents.

You cross your arms and lean against the corner of the building. “One mean-looking squid-man,” you mumble under your breath as you take tally. “A Twi’lek, looks like a smuggler…. Rodian...”

A bright flash of light from down the street pulls your eyes in that direction. Letting your arms fall to the side, you squint, making out an armored figure striding down the street, reflecting bright sunlight even through the dust caking the air.

A Mandalorian.

With a sharp inhale of breath, you jerk backwards into the alley. “No, no, no!” you hiss to yourself.

You’d seen and avoided other bounty hunters on Taek, but this was a Mandalorian bounty hunter.

You’d heard stories about Mandalorian hunters.

If he was looking for you…

Your stomach tightens with more than just hunger.

Stars.

You are dead.

Forcing your breath to even itself out, you scold yourself for the unreasonable panic.

“It’s going to be okay; I’m safe,” you mentally repeat your well-worn mantra. You pause, scowling.

A new mantra might be in order at this point in your life.

You peer back around the corner of the building, torn between wanting to observe the actions of the Mandalorian or bolting as far away as possible. With a deep breath, you choose the former, and also possibly the dumbest, option. Releasing an anxious sigh, you lower the goggles onto your face and tighten the scarf back across your mouth.

You move forward, mingling with the faces of others who, like you, wish to escape a named existence. You push against the crowds of people, eyes sweeping back and forth for any sign of the sun-reflecting armor.

Panic slowly begins to creep back in when, after several minutes of searching, you can find no sign of the Mandalorian.

A sinking feeling grows in your stomach that, in this game of tooka-cat and nuna, you might just be the nuna after all.

After an eternity swimming through a faceless crowd, your eyes latch onto gleaming metal again. You grin underneath your scarf, and your grin only widens when you see the cantina he chooses to go inside.

The Tiny Whomp Rat Cantina is one of the few establishments where you have managed to make connections with a few of the bartenders. When you are having an unusually lucky day, one of the friendlier bartenders would provide some extra work for credits or a bit of extra food.

You position yourself across the street, hoping you looked as ordinary as whatever’s considered ordinary on Taek. You shake your head with a groan. Inhaling dust all day and the lack of food is beginning to mess with your head. You suppose that might explain why you are currently stalking a Mandalorian instead of getting the hell out of sight.

You let your legs give way as you slowly sink down to the ground, leaning against the wall of a building for support. You feel and look pathetic- the perfect disguise.

Frustration presses in your chest after an hour passes with no sign of the Mandalorian leaving the cantina. At this point, you’ve called the Mandalorian every curse word under the sun, and even invented a few new ones for him. To top it off, dusk is falling, and it is beginning to grow chilly, only flaming your irritability further.

Stupid tin-head.

Son of a Hutt.

Shavit brain.

Kriffin metal man.

Damn it! You are too impulsive and impatient for this. You grumble new complaints under your breath as you rip your scarf down and roughly rub your face. If the hunter is searching for you, he isn’t doing a very good job so far.

Oh, what the hell.

You’re going inside.

You stand, pausing a moment to let the blood rush back into your legs. You hesitate only a split second before stalking across the street and creeping through the cantina doors.

You can hear your grandfather’s voice now.

“Child, did you think at all before you chose to act?”

“Yes, actually, I did this time. But probably for not long enough."

Your grandfather is still spitting truths at you even in death.

Shuffling forward, you crinkle your nose at the wall of smell that smacks you in the face as you move inside. You hate this place. It smells like a rotting Hutt eating a decomposing Kowakian monkey-lizard whilst basking in the swamp gasses of Nal Hutta.

Not that you probably smell any better at this point, but still.

The only thing you are grateful for is the fact that the lack of light inside the dingy cantina provided excellent concealment.

Daring not to glance around too much and draw attention to yourself, you stalk straight towards the bar, very grateful to see it’s your friend, a grey-haired elderly man named Irea, working this evening. He looks up and actually smiles at you. It took three weeks to get that smile out of him, and so you return it eagerly. His is the only smile you’ve seen in weeks.

“Hey, kid.” He picks up a glass and begins drying it with a stained rag. “I’m afraid I don’t have any work for you today.” He sighs. “The boss is cracking down, and I-”

“It’s okay,” you interrupt with a raised hand. You slip into a bar stool and lean forward, eyes darting around. You don’t see the Mandalorian anywhere.

You lower your eyes, clenching your hands tightly together on the bar in front of you. “I haven’t come here about that.”

Irea tucks his rag into his back pocket and places a hand on the bar beside you, leaning forward with his body, blocking your conversation from the prying eyes of customers.

“What’s wrong, kid?”

You bite your lip. “Nothing… I mean, I-” You pause and take a shaky breath. Your eyes lift up to meet his own. “I need to ask you about one of your customers.” Your voice drops so low that even you struggled to hear what you had to say. You dart your eyes around again, still not spying the Mandalorian anywhere. You can’t help but fear at any given moment he will jump at you from behind.

“Oh?” the old bartender prods.

You tense, scared to even breath the words. “The Mandalorian. He came in here, right?”

Irea nods slowly. “He’s in one of the back booths,” he whispers, tilting his head towards the rear of the cantina.

You can’t see the back booths from your current vantage point, but your teeth clench knowing you are in such close proximity to the Mandalorian. Too close. You instinctively pull your hat down to sit lower on your face.

“What is he doing here?” you hiss. “Do you know?”

Irea’s eyes shoot around the room. Once he is satisfied there is no one close enough to eavesdrop, he continues, “He’s talking with some strangers I’ve not seen before.” A mischievous expression inches across his face. “But I may have overheard a bit of their conversation, accidentally, mind you.” He points a finger at you with a wink.

You flash him a bright grin. “Of course, of course. Accidentally.”

The old bartender motions for you to move closer towards the wall, so you slip off the barstool and move along with him. He leans in closer to your face. “The Mandalorian is trying to discover the location of Marek’s basecamp.”

You suck air through your teeth with a sharp hiss. “No way.” You shake your head. “Good luck finding that out from anyone.”

He chuckles. “I’m certainly not going to tell him.”

You laugh along with him. “Me neither. Stars!”

Another lesson you learned about this region within the first week of your stay: it’s probably a good idea to avoid associating with Marek and his smuggling ring cronies.

Of course, you learned this after you had already “visited” said basecamp. What can you say? You have a knack for learning lessons the hard way.

But, thank the Maker, the Mandalorian is not searching for you. You feel the tension drain from your shoulders as this realization sinks in.

“Stars, if I had any money, I’d buy a drink right about now,” you chuckle dryly, tucking your chin underneath the ragged scarf draped around your neck. Irea’s eyes soften, and he pats you knowingly on the shoulder.

You smile up at him and crinkle your nose. “Well, thanks anyway,” you sigh, shifting to stand up.

A heavy thud of metal launches you back into your seat.

Oh hell!

Hell!

Kriffin’ hell!

All the air shoots from your lungs as you stupidly gawk up at the Mandalorian. He leans against the bar, mere feet away from you.

“For my tab,” the Mandalorian rasps through his helmet’s vocoder, sliding credits towards the old bartender. The Mandalorian pulls away, not sparing one glance at you before sweeping out of the cantina.

You clasp your hands over your eyes, letting out a sharp breath.

“Stars,” you mumble. All of that stress and worry, and the Mandalorian hadn’t even looked at you. If you weren’t so relieved, you might would feel insulted.

Irea chuckles. “It’s getting late, kid.”

You nod your head, understanding the meaning behind his careful words. After dark, the streets of Taek were not a place not fit for those wishing to avoid trouble.

And seeing as how you possess no weapon, you care very much to avoid the night. You move to stand up again when Irea discretely slides a small package under your hand.

“It’s all I can spare without the owner noticing,” he hisses. “You didn’t get it from me.” He spins on his heel, turning his attention back to drying dishes.

Tears burn in the corner of your eyes, and you squeeze the bag of scraps to your thigh.

You are too kind for this place.

-------

You make your way down the street, grateful that the air has finally cleared itself of the rolling dust clouds. It’s uplifting to walk and breath in clear air, something you never thought you’d take for granted. A wave of stench hits your nostrils from the direction of a junkpile, and you almost gag.

Well, it’s mostly clear air, anyway.

As you continue on your way back to your home camp, you stop by a few of the mechanic shops to ask if they have any work available. You are met with the usual: no work. Taek is pretty small, and the local staff of mechanics keep things taken care of, leaving little work to freelancers like yourself.

Which is probably for the best.

You make a terrible mechanic.

Ignoring your mounting frustration towards life, you make sure to stop and search a few garbage dumpsters located behind some cantinas for anything you can hoard.

Again, no luck.

The food Irea slipped you will have to do for now.

You are so tired of this.

You numbly weave your way through the dark labyrinth of alleys, stars already beginning to twinkle in the sky, instinctively following the path you have traversed every morning and evening for the past six weeks.

As you near the spot where you’ve been sleeping at night, you blood rushes ice cold at a distressed, high-pitched scream echoing from one of the nearby alleys.

You cringe, cover your ears, and keep walking.

You know you have to keep moving; ignore everything you might hear. No one investigated screams at night on Taek. Not unless they were heavily armed and ready to throw down, which you most certainly aren’t. But after another shrill cry rises in the air, your twisting heart won’t allow your feet to keep moving away.

You let out a groan and follow the length of an alleyway before the voices are just around the corner. You cautiously move forward, crouching behind a crate. You peer above it, grimacing when you spy two Zabrak women pressed against the wall of a building. You recognize them from one of the merchant stores in town. They are rapidly speaking in their native language, cowering in terror. You do not recognize the two males, one Rodian and the other a species you had no name for.

But he was tall, really tall.

This... probably won't end well.

The Rodian’s hand shoots out and grabs one of the Zabrak’s arms, sending her into screaming hysterics.

“Wait!” you shriek, jumping up from behind the crate more as an involuntary reaction to the Zabrak’s screams than a conscious decision. “Stop!”

The Rodian actually drops the Zabrak’s arm, in complete shock at your sudden appearance. He and his partner take a few steps towards you, speaking a language you have no name for.

But their body language didn’t exactly scream “friendly”.

You shake your head, eyes narrowing.

Stars, this was not planned.

You have one option.

“Run!” you shriek at the Zabraks, not sticking around to see if they take advantage of your distraction. You scramble over a crate and fly down corridors as fast as your feet can take you. You know these alleys well, just about the only advantage to being marooned for six weeks on Taek. You take a few confusing twists and turns before diving behind a barrier wall, panting heavily. You clutch your side, pain stabbing it from your sudden burst of adrenaline.

“Stars, the things I get mixed up in,” you groan inwardly.

Just when you start to think you might be free, you hear the men’s yells echoing from one alleyway over.

Damn! They both followed you.

You let out a short growl and clench your teeth, pushing away from the wall and zooming towards the location of your home camp. If you can get there unseen, you could hunker down for a few days and stay hidden until the pirates, smugglers, whatever, leave the planet.

You turn the corner, hope building in your chest, and run full-speed into the courtyard- straight into the Rodian.

You shriek and stumble backwards, right into the tall alien’s legs. His hands tighten hard around your upper arms. You yelp at the pain and uselessly try to pull away. The Rodian moves forward laughing and saying things to you in his native language.

“Let me go, you filthy…. disgusting… bug!” You kick as hard as you can, trying to make contact with the tall alien’s legs, but he only laughs and lifts you up in the air by your arms. The oxygen whooshes out of your lungs as your feet dangle a good three or four feet in the air.

“Ahg!” you cry. “Listen! I- I… urg, no hard feelings! I’m…. a mechanic! I…. offer services… free!”

Both men burst into laughter, but you remain dangling in the air.

“Put her down.”

You jerk your head sideways. Standing against a wall, almost nonchalantly, is your Mandalorian. Your mouth gapes open in utter disbelief.

“I said,” he takes one step forward, “down… Now.”

You catch the shine of a weapon pointed directly at the tall alien.

Holy kriff.

The tall alien harshly hurls you to the ground. You hit dirt hard with a cry and cover your head instinctively. You have no time to process anything before-

BLAST. BLAST.

The stench of burned flesh immediately permeates your nose. You crack open your eyes to find yourself face-to-face with the smoking remains of your Rodian friend.

“Bloody seven hells!” you yelp, stumbling up to your feet. You gawk down at the two bodies, mouth still gaped open. Your senses flood back to you all at once. Your eyes shoot up in the direction of where the Mandalorian had just been standing. All you can see is the gleam from the back of his helmet as he retreats from the courtyard.

“Wait!” you cry, freezing him mid-stride. He does not turn around, but you see him tilt his helmet slightly to the side at your voice.

You pause, your heart pumping so hard from adrenaline that you can hear it pounding in your ears.

Maybe it was that same adrenaline or your heightened emotions, but the words that spill out of your mouth surprise even you.

"I know what you're looking for."

He hadn’t been expecting that.

The Mandalorian slowly, silently turns in your direction. His dark visor bores straight into you, not at all unlike a falcon considering if you are worth making prey.

You mentally hiss at yourself, lamenting your impulsion.

Oh, what the hell.

Too late now.

The Mandalorian continues staring at you in laden silence. You take this as an indication to continue. You hide your shaking hands in the pockets of your pants and take a few steps forward, as close as you dared to someone so threatening and who just killed two men now laying at your feet.

“You’re looking for Marek’s base.” You pause, testing the words. The Mandalorian makes no noise nor shows any indication that you are correct.

Silently berating yourself and your horrible decision-making skills, you open your mouth to continue. “Nobody here will help you. Nobody who knows where it’s located.” You pause again and flex your fingers nervously. “They’re… too intimidated.”

This time you let the silence sit, heavy and dense between the two of you.

After what feels like an eternity, the Mandalorian tilts his visor to the side. “And?”

With a deep breath, you throw your shoulders back, taking on the presence of someone much older, experienced, and confident. “I can take you there.” Pause. “You have to go on foot. A ship or speeder would trip the sensors.” Pause. “And you can’t get there without my help.”

Thick silence hangs in the air. You fear he might burn you right where you stand with just his damn gaze. Abruptly, the Mandalorian shifts to place a hand on his holster. You shallow hard at the motion, though you suspect it’s an involuntary mannerism of his.

“Fine… how much?” his voice rasps.

You shake your head. “No credits.”

His hand drops from the holster at that.

“What then?”

You take a second to consider your words. This could turn out to be another scheme that fails horribly, but at this point, it is all the hope you have left. You had to throw your trust to something.

“I- I need transportation off this rock.” You can’t help the edge of desperation your voice takes on. “As close to Keolith as you believe is a… fair exchange.”

The Mandalorian remains silent a few seconds longer than you are comfortable with.

“Why transportation?” his gruff, modulated voice slices through the silence. “Credits just as easily pays for transportation.”

You shake your head. “There’s no public transportation here. Even if I had the credits, I'd have to trust a stranger found in a dingy cantina.” You let a small smile inch onto your face. “And considering my limited experiences here,” you motion towards the smoking bodies, “I really don’t want to do that.”

You hear the Mandalorian grunt, your heart leaping that you might actually be getting somewhere with him. You take a few steps closer towards the Mandalorian. “Plus, I can work! I’m a… mechanic.” You bite your tongue at this. You... probably should not claim that as a benefit to having you on-board.

Your shoulders sink, losing a bit of their straightness. “I’m… I just have to get out of this place,” you finally say, your voice sounding very small and very unlike you. You stare the Mandalorian down, refusing to shift your eyes away despite the discomfort bubbling in your chest.

The Mandalorian is the one to break the gaze, and he looks down at the ground with a heavy sigh. “Fine.” He lifts his head back up. “We have a deal.”

Your eyes flutter in shock. “Whu-?” Quickly masking your surprise, you nod sharply. You straighten back up, taking on the persona of confidence again. “Excellent… We have a deal then.” You can’t help but flash a toothy grin at the Mandalorian.

You close the rest of the distance between the two of you and reach out a hand. “In my culture, we shake on deals,” you explain when the Mandalorian stares down at your open hand.

You hear him release a puff of air through his vocoder, but he carefully places his hand in yours- a solid, firm grip, and you flash an impish smirk up at him.

The dark, emotionless visor stares back down.

You are first to pull your hand away and cross your arms. “It would be best to head out in the morning. It’s about a whole day’s walk. We can meet here at dawn?”

The Mandalorian nods in agreement. “Fine.” His helmet then turns to look at something somewhere behind you.

You follow his line of sight, eyes moving around the courtyard, pausing when you see the bodies of the men still laying on the ground. You chuckle cynically at the sight. Even after the sounds of blaster fire, no one dared come see about it until morning.

“Where do you live?” his raspy voice interrupts your dark humor. “I can… escort you there.”

At that, you let out a dry chuckle. Your smile saddens when he tilts his head at your response.

“Sure.” You keep your arms crossed as you meander through the courtyard and past the bodies lying dead on the ground. You turn and look up at the Mandalorian who is trailing slowly behind you.

“I’m kind of… already home.” You drop to your knees and pry away a loosened board underneath decking beside a set of stairs. You squirm through the tight opening, twisting around to peer back up at the Mandalorian towering over you.

“See you tomorrow, Mandalorian.” You pause. “Oh, and… thanks for, you know, killing them.” You nod in the direction of the corpses.

With a loud thud, you pull the board back closed, entombing yourself under the decking you call home. You start to crawl further underneath when you hesitate, observing the Mandalorian through the cracks between the boards. He is staring directly at the panel you had just replaced. You almost think he starts to move forward.

But he turns on his heel and strides away, leaving only you and two dead bodies for company in the courtyard.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

masterlist / next chapter

a/n: Thank you so much for reading the first chapter of In Fields of White! Please feel free to review/comment on here or Ao3 letting me know what you think! :D

Message me if you would like to be added to the tag list for In Fields of White. Let’s just say I have some surprises up my sleeve with this story! Also, it should be noted that this will most certainly be a slowburn story BECAUSE WE STAN SLOWBURN STORIES.

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flutteringphalanges · 4 years ago

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Caught in a Riptide

Summary: After the infamous Count Dracula is discovered and taken into custody by the Jonathan Harker Foundation, former nun and now guardian to her young niece, Zoe, Agatha Van Helsing is tasked with keeping tabs on the vampire after a mishap leads to his release into modern day society. Can Agatha remain levelheaded, or will fate turn her onto a new path?

Pairing: Dracula/Agatha Van Helsing

Rated: M

Read on FFN and AO3

A/N: Hooray! Two story updates in one week! I guess this Spring Break is proving to be writing productive! Anyway, hope you enjoy this chapter! Feedback is greatly appreciated and fuels the writing mind! Thank you guys so much and I hope you enjoy this chapter! -Jen

Chapter Eleven

Agatha wasn’t quite sure how long she stood in the doorway with her mouth ajar. A second perhaps? A few minutes? Hell, possibly a millennium? But the only comparison to this moment she could make was waking up from a dream and going straight into a nightmare. Her eyes wander around the room as she noted how every window in sight was plastered over with discarded newspapers and pieces of cardboard--some with scribbled drawings she could only attribute to being Zoe’s. The rat bastard had blocked the sunlight getting in.

“Living room now!” She hissed, Dracula’s cheeky grin only causing the flames of fury to burn hotter within her. “Now!”

Part of her felt as if she needed to grab him by the ear and drag him in there himself as the vampire purposely took his time to follow her out of Zoe’s earshot. Once they were alone, the former nun whipped around to face him.

“Why the hell are you still here?!” She growled, jabbing a finger into his chest. “Not only are you not welcome, but you have overstayed at that!” Agatha motioned around her. “And you’ve desecrated my house!”

“First, I would like to say that I am rather disappointed in you.” Dracula smirked. “I had originally thought your intentions to be alone with me were for more...intimate reasons.” He didn’t even blink when Agatha slapped him hard across the face. “Clearly you should’ve had your breakfast before we had this talk. You’re simply...well, what’s the term the adolescence use nowadays?” The Count’s devilish grin only widened. “Hangery?”

Agatha sucked in a sharp breath. “I...you…” Her fists clenched so tightly the circulation to her fingers was on the verge of being cut off. “If Zoe wasn’t in the other room, I would rip your stupid sun protection off my windows and watch you die a long, painful death. But I don’t feel like scarring a little girl!”

Dracula chuckled, his smile lopsided as he watched the woman fuming before his very eyes. He’d expected her to be upset, sure, but this...this was true gold. Agatha ground her teeth together, arms now folded over her chest as she continued to scowl darkly at him.

“You do know if you kill me…” He paused. “And I know you very, very much want to. It would certainly be a breach of contract.” Dracula feigned a long exhale, looking towards the direction of the door. “Perhaps I’ll stay until nightfall. It isn’t as if I have much of a choice.” The Count shrugged, his false sense of apology quite evident to Agatha. “A true pity really. But it can’t be helped, now can it?”

Over a hundred ways to slaughter Count Dracula began to manifest in Agatha’s mind. Yet he was right. Until nightfall, he couldn’t exactly leave without consequences no matter how much she’d like him to burn. Literally. Nostrils flared, her brows knitted together as she tried her best to ignore his obnoxious grin.

“You may be forced to stay here.” She spat, not hiding the disgust in her tone. “But Zoe and I certainly don’t have to.” Agatha looked over her shoulder and called out towards the kitchen. “Zoe, go get dressed and put on your shoes, we’re leaving.”

“Is Mr. Dracula coming too?” Zoe replied loudly, sounding hopeful.

“No.” Her aunt answered flatly, glaring at the Count. “Mr. Dracula is staying behind.” Still looking at Dracula incredulous, Agatha’s eyes narrowed. “I’m going to go change now. Follow me, and you’ll regret it.”

The vampire held up his hands. “Relax, Agatha. I assure you I can manage holding back my temptations to repeat last night’s...experience for another time. Feel free to go get dressed, I can bask in the memories…” He paused, his ever present smirk broadening. “For now.”

Agatha said nothing as she shoved past the vampire, trying to block out his laughing as she stormed into her room. While her body craved a nice, hot shower, her mind convinced her the best option was just to throw on some clothes and leave with Zoe before she went completely berserk. Wearing an old, long sleeved shirt and some worn pants, she stepped out into the hallway to find her niece waiting there patiently.

“You do realize you are wearing two different colored socks.” She noted, eyeing the little girl with a sigh. “And that shirt has a stain on it.”

“So?” Zoe shrugged. “I like it that way.”

Agatha exhaled, shaking her head. “Nevermind. Let’s just go.” Taking Zoe by her hand, she walked briskly towards the front door. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Dracula standing back in the shadows. When he waved, she did not return the favor. “You better be gone when we return.” She growled, tugging on her niece’s hand. “C’mon, Zoe. We’re leaving.”

“Where are we going?” The child asked, craning her neck to catch a glimpse of the vampire. “Not somewhere boring, right?”

“To the park.” Agatha said, grabbing their windbreakers from the rack. “And then...maybe some ice cream, I don’t know. We’re just going.”

“Hooray!” Zoe squealed, sounding far more excited about their sudden departure. “Goodbye, Mr. Dracula! See you soon!”

“Oh, I very much count on that, dear Zoe.” The vampire smiled. “Your aunt and I have some unfinished business.”

When the little girl’s attention was preoccupied, Agatha flipped the Count off before opening the front door and slamming it behind them. Once they were outside, the former nun’s grip loosened around her niece’s hand. Zoe hummed to herself as Agatha fished around in her purse to retrieve her phone. Unlocking it, she scrolled down through her contacts before clicking on the one she desired.

“Hello, Jack?” Agatha spoke, letting out a long breath when she heard the other end connect. “Can you meet me at Pannett Park?” She looked over her shoulder, holding the cell close to her ear. “It’s important.”

XXX

Despite it being early in the morning, the park was decently packed by the time Agatha pulled up into the parking lot. She scanned the lot, looking for an empty parking space. Zoe had already unfastened her belt, against her aunt’s orders, and had taken to leaning over the side of the driver’s seat with the intention of helping out.

“Zoe, sit back down.” Agatha instructed, trying to focus on the road and not her loose niece. “The car hasn’t stopped yet.”

“I’m trying to help you.” The girl replied, frowning softly as she peered around. “What if we can never find a space?” She let out an exaggerated sigh and collapsed against her seat. “We’ve been driving for forever!”

“Patience is a virtue.” But even Agatha’s tone was strained. “We’ll find one.”

Zoe let out a huff and crossed her arms in annoyance. After circling the parking lot twice, Agatha finally managed to find a spot. It was right in the sun, of course, but it would work. Turning the car off, she barely had a moment to step out before her niece leaped from the back seat and out onto the grass.

“Zoe, stay where I can see you!” The former nun called out as the girl bounded towards the playground. “Don’t go too far!”

But she was already out of earshot, her laughter becoming more distant the further she went. Shaking her head, Agatha walked over to an empty bench and sat down. Pulling out her phone once more, she unlocked the screen and located Jack’s number.

“We made it. Good luck finding parking, the place is packed.” -Agatha

A few minutes passed by before her cell began to vibrate.

“Sorry, couldn’t text and drive. But you’re right, you’d think there was some event going on. I ended up parking across the street. Where are you?” -Jack

“On a bench by…” Agatha paused her typing, glancing around for a landmark. Not too far off from where she sat was a large sign dictating the rules that all park pedestrians were instructed to follow. “...by a big brown sign closest to the swing set. Can’t miss it.” -Agatha

“Great, I’ll be right over then.” -Jack

Leaning back against the bench, Agatha stared out towards the playground. Zoe seemed to have found a group of children to play with. Her eyes followed them as they ran back and forth in what she assumed was a game of tag. She tried to suppress the thoughts of what occurred last night in her head. His face. His body. The way he made her feel. How she and Dracula had done deeds that would send Mother Superior to an early grave. A shiver ran down her spine at each thought. Memories that she felt conflicted about. The former nun was so focused on trying not to think that she failed to notice Jack taking a seat beside her.

“Hey, you feeling okay?”

Agatha jumped in surprise, turning her head so quickly to face him that she pulled a muscle in her neck. Wincing, she rubbed at the spot and let out a grunt. Just another thing to add on to the ever growing stack of problems she was facing.

“Yeah, I’m okay.” It was a lie and even she couldn’t hide it from her tone. “Thanks for coming on such short notice.”

“Of course.” Jack smiled, his expression soft. “Gave me an excuse to get out of the house.” He inhaled, relaxing a little. “So what is so important that we needed to meet across town in a park to talk about?”

Agatha averted her eyes, unable to meet his. “Something happened and I needed to talk to someone who I could trust.” She paused, her mouth suddenly becoming dry. “A secret rather...big.”

“Oh?” Jack inquired, beginning to sound concern. “What kind of secret?”

Agatha picked at one of her cuticles absentmindedly, a nervous habit she’d had since childhood. Her eyes focused on Zoe as the young girl when zipping down the long, curling slide on the playground. She knew Jack was staring at her intently, waiting to hear why exactly she had summoned him here of all place. And though, try as she might, she couldn’t yet muster up the courage to meet his gaze. Especially when it came to what was about to come next.

“Dracula paid me an unexpected visit last night.” She said in a low, almost inaudible voice. “Or rather, showed up inside my house uninvited…by me at least.”

“What?!” The alarm in the man’s tone was almost humorous. Certainly his next emotions would far surpass those when he learned more. “Are you okay? Is Zoe? Does Dr. Bloxham…”

“We’re fine, and no…” Agatha answered, a small twinge of pain coming from the corner of her nail bed. “And that isn’t exactly why I called you here to meet me. Something else happened…” Drawing in a breath, she finally found it in her to turn and meet the young doctor’s eyes. “I had sex with Count Dracula.”

There was a long pause before Jack’s face contorted into an alarmed expression. “You’re joking.” But when Agatha failed to reply, his eyes grew wide. “You’re not joking?! Agatha, what...what were you thinking?!”

“Shh!” She hissed softly, glancing around her as if half expecting to see Bloxham pop out from between the bushes. “Keep your voice down. I said it was a secret for a reason!”

“I can’t believe you would...did he force himself upon...what the hell were you thinking, Agatha?!” Jack stumbled, unable to form a coherent sentence. “Why…”

“It was consensual.” It was no use trying to hide the embarrassment in her voice. “And I don’t know what I was thinking. One minute we were fighting and the next...and the next…” She shook her head, frowning deeply. “It was a mistake, okay? A dreadful, horrible mistake that I can’t take back.”

The young doctor shook his head. “...Did he bite you or anything?” A look of horror crossed his features. “You aren’t going to become a vampire now, are you?”

The former nun rolled her eyes. “Last time I checked, having sexual intercourse with a vampire doesn’t lead to one, well, becoming a vampire.” Sighing heavily, Agatha slumped against the seat. “What am I going to do, Jack?”

“You want my honest answer?” Her fellow colleague asked.

Agatha nodded. “Yes!”

“Well, I have none.” Jack replied sheepishly. “I’m not sure what to tell you other than Bloxham can’t ever hear about this. If she knew...it wouldn’t be good.” He ran a hand through his hair. “You have no choice but to continue to work with him. Think you can act like it never happened?”

“I'm quite certain he’ll likely make sure that I’ll never forget that it actually happened.” Agatha grumbled. “But maybe I can figure out a way to keep his hideous, fanged mouth shut.” She turned her attention to the playground, making sure that Zoe was still in sight. “She likes him, you know.”

“Who?” Jack asked. “Bloxham?!”

“No.” Agatha scoffed. “Zoe. She’s the reason he keeps getting into my bloody house! She’s befriended him. Or he’s using her...manipulating her...what difference does it make?” A small smile crept across her features. “She’s a Van Helsing. Being fearless in the face of the undead runs in her blood. Which, I suppose, has its advantages and disadvantages.”

“Like inviting a vampire into your house.” Jack answered.

“Exactly.” Agatha exhaled. “Like inviting a bloody vampire into my damn house.”

“She means well.” Jack added, his attention now on Zoe as she proceeded to swing across the monkey bars. “She’s a good kid, even to those who don’t deserve her kindness. Despite everything she’s been through. I couldn’t do it.”

“I know.” The former nun agreed. “That’s why I worry…”

Before Jack had a chance to reply, Agatha’s phone began to ring. Frowning softly, she pulled it out and looked at the caller ID. Dr. Bloxham. Meeting Jack’s eyes, she unlocked the screen and answered.

“Hello? Agatha Van Helsing speaking.”

“Yes, good morning, Agatha.” Bloxham replied in a flat voice. “I hope I’m not pulling you away from anything important, but I need you to come to the Foundation at your earliest convenience. There is something that needs to be discussed and it cannot wait.”

“What does she want?” Jack whispered softly.

“I don’t know.” Agatha muttered, covering the speaker. “But it doesn’t sound good.”

“Jack! Jack!”

Agatha and Jack both turned their heads to see Zoe hurrying over with a wide grin spread across her face. She immediately flung her arms around the young man, peering up at him with bright eyes.

“Come push me on the swing?” She begged. “Please?!”

“Let me watch her.” Jack offered, patting the young girl on the back. “I’ll take her back to my place and you can pick her up when you are done. Really, it’s no trouble.”

“Agatha? Agatha, are you still there?”

The former nun held her phone towards her ear. “Yes,” she replied. “I’m still here.” She glanced over at Jack who gave her an encouraging thumbs up. “And I’ll be there shortly.” Agatha ended the call and exhaled. “Thank you, Jack. You are truly a saint.”

“Quite a compliment coming from a nun.” The young doctor chuckled.

“Former nun.” She corrected, smiling as she turned her attention to Zoe. “Monkey, I have to go into work for a little bit. You're going to hang out with Jack at his house. I want you to be on your best behavior, okay? Hopefully I won’t be gone for very long.”

“I promise, Aunt Aggie!” Zoe saluted before tugging on Jack’s arm. “Can we go swing now?” “I owe you big time.” Agatha chuckled, standing up from the bench. “I’ll keep you posted.”

“We’ll be fine,” Jack assured her. “Just worry about yourself...or don’t stress...you get the idea.”

She tried to force a smile as she leaned down and kissed the top of Zoe’s head. Giving one final wave, she turned on her heels and began making her way to the parking lot. Worrying. That was better said than done. A whirlwind of endless possibilities, mostly bad ones, of why Bloxham needed her now began to swirl in her mind. Swallowing hard, Agatha unlocked her car and got into the front seat. It was only the morning and today was already proving to be very, very long.

XXX

Unlike the park, the parking lot at the Foundation was nearly empty. Agatha tried to focus on her breathing as she fished around to find her badge. Bloxham couldn’t possibly know about what happened between her and Dracula last night. Could she? Inhaling deeply, she made her way into the building that seemed far larger than usual.

“Ah, Zoe, so glad you could make it on such short notice.”

Bloxham sounded surprisingly friendly as Agatha approached her boss, something that felt very unsettling. Feigning a smile, she nodded in agreement as the woman motioned for her to follow. Their heels clacked against the tiled floor as they made their way into Bloxham’s office.

“I apologize for pulling you away from whatever it is that you were doing. But I wanted you to meet someone important.” The corners of Bloxham’s lips twitched into a grin that would curdle milk. “Someone I think who just might help us with dealing with Count Dracula.”

As she opened her office door, Agatha’s eyes fell upon a tall man. His blond hair, though thick, was greying at the sides and the look in his brown eyes was cold. When he became face to face with the former nun, he gave a small nod in greeting.

“Ms. Agatha Van Helsing.” He greeted, extending his hand. “It’s a true pleasure to finally meet you.” Bloxham joined his side and suddenly Agatha began to feel claustrophobic. “You might not know me by name, but my ancestors were responsible for founding this over a century ago.” A small smile crept across his features. “My name is Howard Murray, the true descendant of Mina Murray herself. And I would like to lend my hand in personally assisting you and the others with Count Dracula.”

#Dracula #Dracula 2020 #Dragatha #Agatha Van Helsing #Dracula x Agatha #BBC Dracula #Caught in a Riptide

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merakiaes · 5 years ago

Text

Midnight Moments - Finn Shelby

Pairing: Finn Shelby x reader

Requested: Yes.

Prompts: #49 and #58 from the fluff-list.

Warnings/notes: No warnings or notes. I hope this was what you were looking for and that you like it!

Wordcount: 1354

Summary: Sharing a sweet midnight moment with Finn.

Waking up in the middle of the night was a regular occurrence for you, and so it had been your entire life. And most nights, it wasn’t just one time, either.

At least one of the times, you had to pee. A few times, you had to get out of bed and move around for a few minutes in order to get warm because no matter the temperature of the room you were sleeping in, you always got cold at night. And the remaining of the times, you just had to get up because you couldn’t fall back asleep.

Each night the things came in different orders, no night identical to another. The only thing that remained the same was that you purposely had to avoid sleeping through the night in the same bed as another person, as you knew the excessive amount of times would annoy the shit out of anyone.

Just thinking about ever having to sleep next to a person like you made your entire body itch with annoyance, so it was a given you didn’t want to put anyone else through it either.

But then you moved to Small Heath and met Finn, and your disinterest in sleeping next to another person suddenly changed into an actual craving for it.

You were about six months into knowing each other, three months into being a couple. You had shared a bed countless of times, but so far, only for short naps during the days whenever you were free of the small jobs Tommy kept assigning you.

Finn knew about your sleeping troubles and respected your choice to sleep alone during the night, but this night in particular you’d had no other choice to change that.

Every room in the Shelby household – Finn’s included – was occupied by John’s many children, as his and Esme’s house had been infested by rats and they didn’t want the kids sleeping in the midst of the rat poison.

You understood them, of course, and wasted no time in offering Finn a place in your bed for the night, and in turn, Finn wasted no time in telling you he wouldn’t be bothered if you woke up during the night.

And like with everything else he ever told you, you took his word for it and was able to fall asleep in his arms without any problem at all.

Surprisingly, you didn’t wake up a hundred of times like you usually would, and you knew immediately that it was because of him. But you did still wake up one time needing to pee.

As every other night, however, you were absolutely freezing, and even more so now that Finn had rolled away from you and into the wall in his sleep, denying you of his body warmth.

Outside your bedroom window, the wind was blowing roughly and you could feel the chilly breeze coming in through the cracks of the window all the way to the bed, causing an uncomfortable shiver to run down your spine and shake your entire body.

And you didn’t get any warmer by the fact that you were naked, either.

Any other night, you would fall asleep in a nightgown, robe and fuzzy socks, and sometimes even pants, but as you were now sleeping with Finn… Well, you know, clothes were bound to be discarded.

You really wanted to cozy up under the blanket and fall back asleep, but you also really needed to pee. So, although very begrudgingly, you got out from under the blanket and out of the bed, careful not to move to abruptly and wake up Finn.

With the chilly air now making direct contact with your skin, your body was trembling uncontrollably.

Your bedroom was dark, the moonlight streaming in through the window just barely allowing you to make out the silhouettes of your furniture. But no matter how much you squinted, you couldn’t find the clothes you had been wearing prior to going to bed.

The only piece of clothing you could find was Finn’s white shirt lying on the floor in the middle of a moonlight beam, so you just grabbed it and pulled it over your head before leaving the room to head for the bathroom.

You hurriedly finished your business, not wanting to sit on the cold porcelain any longer than absolutely necessary, and silently pattered back to your room.

But upon entering, Finn wasn’t lying on his side facing the wall like you left him, but rather flat on his back, rubbing his hands over his face.

The floorboards creaked under your feet as you stepped over the threshold and Finn instantly turned his head to look at you, his eyes squinting slightly.

You offered him a guilty smile as you approached the bed, even though you were fairly sure he wouldn’t be able to see it in the dark.

“Sorry…” You apologized quietly as you got into bed again, crawling on your hands and knees to get closer to him.

“It’s fine. I was already awake, anyway.” He answered, his thick and groggy with sleep and eyelids droopy.

A small chuckle left your lips. “The sleep in your eyes says otherwise.” You said, before nudging his leg lightly. “Scoot over, I’m cold.”

But rather than scooting over to make room for you, he just inched himself up into a half-sitting position, holding his arms out, and you wasted no time in throwing your right leg over his thighs to straddle him.

You leaned your head against his chest, shifting around to get comfortable while he put his arms around you and pulled the blanket up to your neck, and your body was instantly warmed up by the blanket and the feeling of his feverish skin against your body.

He hummed tiredly, leaning his cheek against the top of your head, his hands pulling at the hem of your, or his, shirt, feeling the fabric between his fingers. “Is that my shirt?”

Your eyes fell shut at the feeling of his warm fingers tracing circles on your waist under the shirt, the corners of your lips pulling upwards. “It was the closest thing I could find.”

He snorted through his nose, trailing his hand down the curve of your waist and along to the small of your back.

“Do you even know how beautiful you are?” He murmured against your hair, fingers trailing down to the start of your bottom before changing course upwards again, moving towards your spine.

You raised your head slightly at that, chuckling and bringing your hands up to push his hair away from his face, slicking it back. “How could I forget when you remind me countless of times every day?”

He smiled down at you, a tired smile that could barely even count as a smile, but it was nevertheless the most adorable thing you had ever seen.

“Can we stay like this forever?” He whispered, bringing his other hand up to your face, gingerly drawing his thumb over your nose, causing you to scrunch it up.

The sight drew a chuckle from his lips, but all you could do was sigh as you answered. “Unfortunately not. Tommy has you in charge of the betting shop today when he’s going to London, remember?”

He groaned at your words, letting his head fall down to connect his forehead to yours. You smiled up at him, pressing your forehead harder to his for a brief moment before turning to look at the clock on the bedside table, having to squint to make out the pointers and numbers in the dark.

“Buuuut…” You drew out, turning back to Finn and rubbing your nose against his. “We have six more hours until you have to be there, so we can stay like this until then.”

He closed his eyes and smiled goofily at your childish antics. “Mhhm.” He hummed, pulled you closer. “Sounds good to me.”

You couldn’t form another coherent response back. All you could do was hum in contentment as his fingers started trailing up and down your spine, the pleasurable feeling causing sleepiness to start creeping up on you again, and having you back asleep within the next two minutes.

#Peaky Blinders #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinder headcanon #finn shelby #finn shelby imagine #finn shelby x reader #Tommy Shelby #Arthur Shelby #John Shelby #michael gray #polly gray #ada shelby

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havens-most-wanted · 4 years ago

Text

Jak 2 Opening Scene as Written by a Bot

Exactly as the title says. I plugged in snippets of the Jak 2 script into an AI text generator and got this. Bold is original script. Regular text is not. [text] is edited for continuity and clarity (doesn’t help much though). Enjoy.

Credits to: Rexy (game script, minor edits done by me) https://gamefaqs.gamespot.com/ps2/914535-jak-ii/faqs/26498

AI Bot https://inferkit.com/

Warnings: Implied incest, random nonsense.

Here we go...

Samos's voice: For every age there is a time of trial.

It may be that it has happened to us and to me, but the Father tests everyone so that the just can become children of light.

We can only try to get through it with a minimum of fuss.

Like the soft - ball test.

When you're a kid, your parents throw you the soft - ball test.

They throw you the ball, and you run and run and run and run and run, and then you fall on the ground, and it's time to get up, and your ball rolls away somewhere else.

But then you remember your lessons.

The scene then shows up outside a hut in Sandover village, one of the locations in the previous game, where Jak, his ottsel friend Daxter, his female companion Keira, and her father Samos, the green sage, were seen near a large machine.

Samos: Today's the big day, Jak. I hope you are prepared, for whatever happens...

Keira: I think I figured out--

Samos: --That if I ever see you again, I'll…

Keira: W-what?

Samos: Sorry.

Keira: I think I made it pretty clear how I feel about you.

Samos: Sorry, but I can't be sorry.

Keira: You can't be? You can't be sorry you're sorry? I don't get it.

Samos: I'll just…

Keira: [Samos], it's okay.

Samos: (concerned tone) I'm sorry, but you can't just leave me like this. I'm not a man who cries over girls that he never even knew. I'm just gonna…

Keira: (muttering) Whatever, it doesn't matter anymore.

Daxter’s finger hovers in front of a large red button on the rift rider.

Samos: Daxter! Don't touch anything! Though the Precursors vanished long ago, the artifacts they left behind can still do great harm.

Keira: Or great good! If you figure out how to use them.

Samos: I've had some experience with the Precursors, Keira. They're not something I want to mess with.

Keira: Samos, have you ever considered being a scientist instead of a soldier? You're a brilliant scientist, with an education, and a lot of potential. You could build incredible things, not just weapons, but maybe something greater than a weapon.

Samos: That sounds like a lot of work. It's easier to use my powers to fight.

Keira: I'm sure you could come up with some other use for your gifts.

Jak activates the rift rider.

Daxter: Looks like Jak's still got the moto!

Keira: Interesting... it appears to be reading out some preset coordinates.

Daxter: Wow, look at that!

Then, something started to shake, and the ring started to spin before some of the bridge leading to the hut started to break away, and the skies turned dark.

Monster voice: Finally! The last anybody who is here for long. If you are seeking...The lobster roller is in the Oasis. Have a good time. See you later!

Daxter: Uh, why are you reading out coordinates?

Monster voice: This is a museum. You must have been asked to come here. I thought you would find something interesting, like one of my friends.

Daxter: What friend?

Monster voice: I thought maybe you would like to see something in the museum.

Daxter: What did you just say?

Monster voice: Do you not hear me?

Metal Heads begin flying out of the opened rift gate.

Daxter: Aaaaargh! What are those things?!

Samos: So THIS is how it happened…

The monster's head showed up from inside the gate.

Monster: You cannot hide from me boy!

Keira: Do something, Jak!

Daxter: *starts pointing at the buttons* What's this do?

Keira: Shove a building up against it!

Keira started to stomp on the monster's head.

Monster: That'll only make it madder!

Keira: Shove it back in it's hole!

Keira pulled up the floor. The monster hit the ceiling and fell to the ground.

Monster: ...You cannot hide from me boy!

Samos: ...and so it starts. I hope your instincts don't get you in trouble.

Daxter: Uh, how do we start the mission?

Keira: Go up there! It was right on the map.

Samos: Here, I'm staying out here with Keira.

They get sucked into the portal past the giant monster, leaving Sandover behind.

Keira: What was that thing?!

Samos: Hang on everyone!

Daxter: YYAAAAAAHHHHHH! I want off this thing!!!!!

Then... it wasn't long before the machine exploded, throwing Samos and Keira, and Jak and Daxter, far apart from each other.

Keira: AAAAAHHHHH!!

Samos: Find a way back to me Keira. We can't be separated this way.

Keira: I know... I'll go and try and find a way out!

Samos: Please be safe and come back to me…

Keira: I will!

The two of them were separated, and this made the story change. But they were still together, and Keira knew that they weren't really separated, so she was still fine, and they could still be together. So she went in search for Daxter, because he must be stuck somewhere.

Jak and Daxter fall from the sky and crash onto a paved walkway. They looked around, and saw tall metal buildings everywhere. Daxter's face contorted in anger, he tossed a lead pipe he was holding on his hand down to the ground.

Daxter: Okay, I swear that's the last time I ever, EVER, touch lead!

Jak: Yeah, Daxter, the last time I help you, is the last time you use your lead pipe on anything!

Daxter: WHAT THE (CHECK ALL CAPS) (HEADING)WHAT THE HELL!

Then, from in front of them, a bunch of soldiers appeared, lead by Erol, a sleek man with spiked orange hair only just hidden by his armored helmet.

Soldier: There he is. Move in.

They stop in front of them both.

Soldier: Step away from the animal!

Daxter: YYAAAAHHHH!!!!!

Daxter runs between Jak's legs, and away from the group.

Erol: Forget the rat. The Baron wants to talk to you.

Daxter: Y-you ... do ... u-um, yeah …

They talk in a rough, but still kinda giggly voice.

Erol: So, the Baron wants to talk to you.

Daxter: Yeah. Well, he's standing right here!

Soldier: Then why don't we escort you into the castle?

Daxter: …

Soldier: …

Daxter: Mmm…

Erol: Yeah, but he's standing right in front of you.

Daxter: ... OK!

They split. Erol to Erol's troops to take Daxter into the castle, and Octo and Snake to take Jak back out [to the prison].

Daxter: Don't worry Jak! I'll save you before you know it!

{TWO YEARS LATER}

The scene then changes to a prison-like area, and this is where we see a completely reformed Jak with sleeker hair and a goatee on him, strapped to a chair, where what looked like a ray gun was zapping him. Surrounding him were two figures - Erol again, and the ruler of the city, Baron Praxis.

Computer voice: Dark Eco injection cycle complete. Bio readings nominal and unchanged.

Praxis: Hhhppp. Nothing! I was informed that this one might be different!

Erol: He is surprisingly resistant to this substance. Perhaps we'll find that he too is resistant to other Eco...remodeling them.

Praxis: (picks up Jak's hand) Niiice. A different mind. Would that I could use that to draw out my other subjects. They're a lot more expendable when they don't fight back...but I guess this would be different than what they have to deal with.

Erol: The city is dying, but we can't help them if we don't take these to the Emperor. That won't happen if I'm not there. So make it happen...Master Praxis.

Baron Praxis grabs the barely conscious Jak's hair and lifts up his head.

Praxis: Aaaagh! You should at least be dead with all the Dark Eco I've pumped into you!

Erol: What now? Metal Head armies are pressing their attacks. Without a new weapon, my men cannot hold them off forever!

Praxis: I will not be remembered as the man who let you run away! I will be remembered as the man who destroyed your army!

Praxis unleashes his Juggernaut; the knight's remains are vaporized. Erol raises his blade to Praxis' throat.

Erol: I don't know what I can do to repay you.

Praxis: Do not apologize. I did what I did to protect the life of the one I love.

Erol: (lamely) So, you think that deserves a reward?

Praxis: Oh, no. I don't want anything from you. I want you to live and keep doing what you do best.

Erol: And what is that?

Praxis: Working.

Erol: Because I had to teach you that skill?

Praxis: …

Erol: If you want me to leave this world then I will. I don't need it.

Praxis: Do you need a reason?

Erol: I'm just being honest. I'm trying to save you because you can't save yourself.

Praxis: What? I don't want to die. I just want to stay here.

Erol: The first time you can't make this decision. Then you can't ever decide.

Praxis: [proudly] And now you're leaving?

Erol: (leans towards Jak) I'll be back later…

The pair leave the scene. Then... a small platform rises from down below, revealing Daxter.

Daxter: Ding, ding... Third floor... Body chains, roach food, torture devices.

He jumps onto Jak’s chest, landing on both feet.

Daxter: Hey buddy... you seen any blue wool?

Jak: Nuh-uh. That's the seventh floor. Not enough wool.

Daxter: No? Really? Well... hey... you know that purple tunnel that goes off to nowhere? You can't climb it.

Jak: Yeah? Well... I've got a plan. What if we try that tunnel?

Daxter: And what's your plan?

Jak: The tunnel leads to that room. I know where that room is.

Daxter: Hmm... I remember it. You know, how I worked with Daxter on this game.

Jak: Yeah... that.

Daxter: Well, I don't see why we have to go through this.

Jak eyes briefly flutter open at the voice, but close again.

Daxter: That's a fine hello! I've been crawling around in this place risking my tail, literally, to save you! I've been looking for you for two years! Say something! Just this once!!

Jak's eyes suddenly fly open.

Jak: I'M GONNA KILL YOU FOR THAT!

Daxter: Hang on, I know you're awake... [Bleep]

Jak scrambles to a sitting position, much faster than Daxter, and punches Daxter in the jaw with a left hook.

Daxter: Bully.

Jak then grabs ahold of Daxter's body, swinging it up in the air, causing Daxter to fall, and fling him to the ceiling. Daxter flies to the ground and lands, rather gracefully, on his tail.

Daxter: Gotcha!

Jak: Never underestimate your own hide, you little rascal!

Daxter: Slight overkill.

Jak: AAAAAGGHHH!

Jak changed into a more demon-based form, to be now known as Dark Jak.

Daxter: Or aaah... you could do it.

Jak then starts approaching Daxter with an aggressive look, his mouth pulled back into a feral-like snarl.

Daxter: Jak? Easy now. Easy buddy. It's, it's your Dad.

Jak: What?! I thought I said I didn't want to see him again!

Daxter: We'll see about that, buddy.

Jak starts backpedaling as Daxter stands and looks at his friend/father.

Jak: AAAAGGHH!...

Jak tries to attack, claws out but... he suddenly came to a stop right before striking his friend.

Jak: Daxter?

Then, Jak changed back to his normal form.

Daxter: What the heck was that?! Sheesh, remind me not to get in your face again, I don't think I can take it!...

Then Daxter gave him a friendly tap to the head.

Daxter: Hey, no problem! Why don't you tell me all about it!

Jak: Well, it happened while I was on patrol. I got bit by a crazy Mystian, so I've been recovering from it ever since.

Daxter: Oh.

Jak: I wasn't too sure how to act when you first came here, so I kind of was just acting like I normally did.

Daxter: What you mean by that?

Jak: Well, I did whatever I did when I came back

Daxter jumps on his usual spot on Jak's shoulder. The pair leave the scene together.

Daxter: I, uh, brought you some new shoes!

Jak: They're nice.

Daxter: Don't worry. You can wear them with some shorts or long-sleeved shirts.

Daxter walks off and Jak is left standing there alone.

#jak and daxter #fic #sort of

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dumbsnakefan · 4 years ago

Text

Thou Shalt Love

Chapter 2: In You I Take Refuge

A/N: This took longer than expected but here it is! Also, if you want me to tag you in the next chapter please let me know!

Hidden away in a small Inn in a town surrounded by only nature, Nea watched over Allen’s prone figure. A thin layer of sweat covered his nephew’s body from exertion. His mind still tried to fight the inevitable of his awakening. Well, Nea supposed that Allen was too stubborn to ever give in so easily. Not that it wouldn’t make a difference in the end. The Noah memories were like an unrestrained storm as they tore into the brain.

Letting out an aggravated sigh Nea said to himself, “Why did that bastard Cross have to die on me like that? He always manages to piss me off.” His eye twitched as he remembered the debts the man had hoisted upon his former host. Despite all his hatred for the General there were too many questions left unanswered. From what Timcanpy had shown him Allen had forgotten everything. What’s more, he had gotten younger. It was like trying to put together a puzzle without most of the pieces.

Had Cross not had answers for that at least Nea could have used his magical skills. That four eyed idiot had done something strange and outside his own abilities. As best he could figure, however, their “separation” hadn’t accounted for the Noah gene. He could laugh if not for the absolute mess of it all.

There was something strange about this memory as well. It was like none of the others as far as he could tell. Allen’s inner Noah was swaddling him in a thorny embrace, like a babe in need of protection. Compared to his own, a destructive thing that had him clawing at his skin in agony, it was soft. Nea felt an urge to pull his nephew close and never let go again. The strangeness of Allen’s memory was oddly fitting.

Lacking any new information to dissect Nea could only move on to other things. Specifically how the Noah family would react to this. Like Nea they had to have felt the surge of a new memory breaking into the world. They would want to pull him away from the dreaded 14th as soon as they could, lest he “corrupt” their new brother. A smile stretched across Nea’s lips as he swore to keep his dearest friend by his side.

What a family reunion they’d be having. If Mana had any real sanity left Nea would have liked to share one last tender moment before the end. Fate and that detestable God were not so kind as to give any Noah such a merciful gift though. They would forever seek to destroy them for being in the way. Should Nea succeed he would put an end to their farce. His brother would be freed at long last.

Keeping Allen far away from this whole affair was very important. The attachment he’d formed with Mana could turn into a crushing weight when the truth was revealed. Those bonds of father and son were already so entangled with tragedy; Nea wouldn’t let another disaster play out. Mana’s insanity could drag them all down if left unchecked.

From what Timcanpy had shown of Allen’s time as Red, his brother had been attached at the hip with him. Nea knew that he’d forgotten it all just by the way he treated his nephew. That didn’t mean that Mana wasn’t drawn to him, oh no. Even when not a wisp of Nea’s presence had been visible the Earl had targeted Allen. Drawn like a moth to a flame, they circled each other. Now under the calming lull of the Noah memory inside Allen Mana would chase him wholeheartedly.

Then there was the other Noah to consider. Road and Joyd seemed to have the strongest bond with Allen of the family. While the others weren’t as close, they all appeared interested when interacting with him. Being a true part of the family could only grow their connection. It made Nea sick just thinking about it. The need to keep Allen close and out of their grubby hands echoed from his own Noah.

Wasn’t keeping Allen by his side the best way to make sure he was safe? Those disgusting roaches that scuttled about the Order were still searching for Allen. Nea had seen how easily they had hurt their beloved comrade. All throughout the past Timcanpy had shown Nea there had been pain. His nephew’s past was a constant spiral of suffering. Taking him away from the world that was so ready to tear him apart could only be a kindness.

Tension had built to a boiling point in Nea’s body and he forced himself to release it. In an attempt to calm down he scouted closer to the bed. A new bead of blood pooled along Allen’s stigmata that Nea wiped away. Unconsciously he pushed into the contact. Warmth bloomed in Nea’s chest. Seeing his dearest friend like this, utterly peaceful, was something he’d truly missed.

His senses registered the Noah memory shift from it’s dormant state and Nea braced for another wave of pain. More blood flowed down from Allen’s forehead as he became restless. The once lax expression of sleep twisted in pain. That’s when the screaming started, scratching Allen’s throat raw. It was hard not to wince at the sheer volume of his screams.

As the screams faded out Nea felt a new presence join them. Annoyed and reluctant to leave Allen’s side Nea turns to face the intruder. Standing before him is the Demon Eye, expression a mask of indifference. Rage so obviously simmers behind the facade but Nea finds it as threatening as a wet kitten.

His smile is packed full of malice as he says, “Didn’t know they’d let you come alone to see me kid.” The twitch of annoyance from Wisely’s reincarnation is so sweet. “You’d think with how easily I killed you last time you would all be a bit more careful.” Bloodlust oozes off Nea in waves, making the air thick with it.

Only when Allen’s scream rise back up does he stop. Nea is so tempted to return to his side to comfort him. The possibility of an attack is what holds him back. Wisely would be more than happy to slit his throat and take Allen away for good; or at least attempt to. There was no way Nea would give him that kind of opening.

“Would it kill you to be nicer, dearest 14th? I’m here to give you some friendly advice after all.” The moniker has Nea gnashing his teeth. He knows that smug bastard is enjoying himself. What an asshole.

Tilting his head Wisely says, “Like you’re one to talk. You really hold the title of world's biggest asshole.” Of course the little creep was reading his mind. Even in his new life Wisely refused to learn what privacy means.

Moving closer to the other Noah, Nea glares down with cold eyes. “Cut this bullshit and tell me why you’re really here.”

“We won’t let you keep him from us.” The brat dares to step closer to Allen and Nea watches him like a hawk for a single misstep. “You can’t hide no matter how hard you try. Someday soon we’ll bring our brother home, where he belongs.”

Something in Nea snaps. Anger grips his heart like a vice. Unwilling and unable to hold back, he shoots towards Wisely. His hand wraps around the bastard's neck. Blood drips from where his fingernails bite into WIsely’s skin as Nea squeezes his windpipe. The choked panic gives him no satisfaction. Painting the walls red with his blood is what he needs now.

His grip tightens, drawing a wheeze from the pathetic Noah. “He’s mine. Allen is mine.” Nea says with unhinged glee. “You can never take him from me. I’ll kill every single one of you if you try.”

It’s only when a burst of stabbing pain sweeps over Nea’s mind that he returns to reality. He let’s go reluctantly, Wisely falling at his feet. Such a shame he couldn’t kill him, but Nea is patient. Now is not the right time to crush Wisely beneath his foot. Later he’ll make sure to make his end painful.

Between satisfying coughing fits Wisely manages to bite out, “Ru-Road said to, guh, give you a warning for old t-times sake.” The venom behind the glare he gives Nea is almost impressive. “Shouldn’t have listened to her. You deserve to watch as your world crumbles around you and you fail.” It makes him laugh, the thought that Nea would lose to the likes of him.

Wisely’s face twists up in amusement. Nea keeps himself in check as he moves towards Allen. Fighting this close to Allen could only end in disaster. Even as the rat bastard patted his nephew’s head he held back. Truly, his restraint was worthy of the highest praise.

“I can’t wait to see what our new brother is capable of. He was already such an interesting human...” The little shit was lost in his own mind as he brushed hair off Allen’s forehead. It’s a herculean effort on Nea’s behalf to stay his hand. Perhaps killing him was worth the risk after all?

However, what Wisley said next stopped him dead in his tracks. “I do wonder why the Earl is already so attached to Allen?” What? No, this can’t possibly be happening; it’s too early. “I knew that you’d have answers. There’s something slipping just outside my reach, no matter how hard I search.”

Desperately Nea snaps his mind shut to leave only unrelated drivel in its wake. He needs to throw the Demon Eye Noah off his scent. Now. “Why don’t you ask Mana yourself?” The wince he gets is a good sign. Raising his voice and stepping into Wisley’s space Nea tells him, “Now get out of my sight.”

Gold meets gold as they assess each other for weakness. Finding nothing, Wisley moves to finally leave them be. With every step Nea feels better. On the threshold of the door, however, he turns back. Body going tense Nea prepares for whatever the creep plans to throw his way next.

“Before I go, you might want to find a new hiding place. There are some Akuma out there who aren’t very good a t playing nice.” An Explosion rocks the building, punctuating his statement. The string of curses that Nea lets out would have a sailor blushing. “Hope you enjoy yourself 14th!” His smug face watches on as Nea fumbles for their things. The Ark gate behind him swallows Wisely up but Nea pays it no mind.

Screams fill the air in a terrible crescendo of horror. With Allen out of commision Nea can only run. Scooping up his struggling nephew Nea makes sure Tim grabs their luggage. Ignoring the town below he calls up his own gate and the three disappear from sight. The humans left behind in that remote town are mowed down with mercy. Chaos creeps around every corner and the scent of blood blankets the air in a red mist. No one will discover the scene of pure carnage until weeks later.

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theanarik · 5 years ago

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Day 8: Obsessive

Happy SasuHina Month! This is kind of a continuation of the one yesterday. Because I don’t know how to leave things alone. Sorry not sorry.

Day 8: Forever, for eternity.

Obsessive

You can also read it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24618538

“How is she doing?”

“Same as yesterday. She doesn’t seem to be building up her own chakra. We don’t know what’s going on.”

“Has he visited her yet?”

“No…”

“Someone call Lady Tsunade! Patient on bed 36 is failing again!”

“How is she doing today?”

“Hasn’t had any relapses today. Still not building up chakra.”

“Fuck. What the hell is going on?”

“How long has she been in here?”

“Three weeks.”

“God, and Sasuke hasn’t come to visit her yet?”

“No… I don’t know what’s going on with him. Does he not know?”

“He knows… Naruto and I told him once she arrived here.”

If there’s something Sasuke knows for sure is that Uchihas are obsessive. Doesn’t matter if it is love or hate, or if it’s just a topic they’re interested in, Uchihas will become obsessive and see it through. He would list a few examples if anyone needed proof. He would start with his father, obsessed with how the Uchihas were being wrongly treated, to the point of plotting a war. Then would talk about his mother, who was blindly in love with his father and went along with it. Then he would move towards his brother, who killed his entire Clan for love and protection of a village that marked him as a traitor. There were other examples, of course. Madara, Obito and Shizui being a few of them. But the most recent and alive one was him. Sasuke would be the first one to say that he recognizes his own obsessive behavior. Just look at his life choices when he was a teenager; the hate he felt for his brother, the hate and love he feels for his best friend… The love he feels for her.

As he stares at her, looking peacefully asleep, breathing softly and calmly, Sasuke wonders, not for the first time, why life keeps throwing shit on his path. Has he not suffered enough? Has he not made enough mistakes to last for a lifetime? Hinata is asleep in what seems to be a Genjutsu of the likes of the Sharingan and he’s been trying, okay? He’s been trying to wake her up every single night since she landed in this hospital bed. He’s been trying to raise her chakra levers, infusing his own on her; but as soon as he transfers it, the whole thing disappears, and she just…

She’s sleeping.

That’s what he tells himself. She’s sleeping and that’s why she doesn’t wake up.

He needs her to wake up. Their tiny apartment feels to big if she’s not there. Their bed has lost the dent that had been formed out of her shape. He can’t sleep without her.

So, he becomes obsessed. He becomes obsessed with waking her up, with doing everything and anything that needs to be done for her to stand up and live again. And he sure as hell will find a way.

He finds a way.

One of the scrolls he found in his home have the answer. It involves a ritual, a seal, a dagger, and a whole lot of chakra. It’s not tested, it’s not even completed, but it’s described well enough that Sasuke tentatively knows what to do after. The amount of chakra it requires, though, it’s not something to be playing with, probably no-one really thought this Jutsu could be done without extra help. And well, Sasuke has a Rinnegan in one eye and a Mangekyou Sharingan in the other. He’s hurled his fair share of chakra.

“How long has she been here?” Ino’s voice echoes through the halls.

“Five weeks, today… I’m starting to lose my faith.” Sakura answers and then the nurses can see the two Medic-Nin around the corner.

“Shush. Hinata will wake up.” Ino answers, as she stands in front of door 36.

She opens it and her eyes grow big.

“Someone call Lady Tsunade! Hyuuga Hinata is missing!”

The purple ink he used to draw the seal has an awful stench to it. It smells kind of fishy and oily, and he maybe wants to throw up, he’s not sure. Hinata’s body is laying inside a big purple circle, the symbols on it impossible to decipher, as are the ones on her body and Sasuke’s stomach. He takes a deep breath and summons his Susanoo, the powerful god taking his form and kneeling in front of Hinata. One purple hand touches Hinata’s body and the symbols on her body start glowing, as well as the one in Sasuke’s stomach.

Sasuke begins to make different seals with his hands, bites his thumb in the middle of it and continues to make them. Bird, hare, serpent, tiger, bird, rat, monkey, bird, horse, boar, dragon, bird. He picks up the dagger then, a white silver blade, and as he stabs himself on the stomach, Hinata wakes up. The initial fogginess that comes from waking up from a long dream is replaced by the panic of seeing Sasuke stabbing himself. Susanoo starts getting smaller.

“Sasuke!” Hinata yells, tries to stand up but her legs don’t respond. “What are you doing!?”

“Please forgive me, Hina.”

“F-forgive you?” She repeats and tries to sit down using only her arms. “What is going on?”

“This is the only thing I could find that could help you.”

“What is going on,” she repeats, the blood on the floor making it slippery for her to hold herself in a sitting position.

“You weren’t waking up. Your chakra wasn’t rebuilding itself. I don’t know what happened in your mission, but I won’t lose you.”

“Sasuke…”

“I just need you to agree with this.”

“Agree?”

“If we finish this Jutsu, there’ll be no power on earth that can break us apart.” Sasuke says, coughing blood. “But if you say no, I’ll stop, I’ll find another way. You’ll go back to sleep and I’ll heal myself, and I’ll find another way. But I can’t lose you too.”

“What would happen if I say yes?” She asks, there are tears running down her cheeks, and she tries to hold Sasuke closer to her.

“We’ll die here. But our souls will be linked forever, we’ll come back and find each other again.”

Hinata stares at him with somber eyes, Susanoo won’t be holding for long and if she doesn’t give him a proper answer, he’ll probably let himself die.

“Do it.” She whispers, and Sasuke leans down to kiss her, long enough for her to taste the metallic taste of his blood, and she cries harder, holding his face and pressing her lips rougher against his.

Sasuke begins chanting words against Hinata’s lips that she doesn’t understand. He takes the dagger out of his stomach and places it on top of Hinata’s. She’s falling asleep again, Susanoo only covering Sasuke’s body. He can’t let that happen; he can’t let her go to sleep again. He activates his Mangekyou Sharingan and the purple god grows big again; Hinata looks at him with alert eyes.

As he finishes the Jutsu, he feels himself go down slowly; he doesn’t know if it’s the blood loss, or if it’s the Jutsu working, but Hinata holds his hand stronger than she ever did, and Sasuke knows they’ll be okay.

If there’s something Sasuke knows for sure is that Uchihas are obsessive. And if there’s something he learns after knowing, living and loving Hinata is that Hyuugas can easily give them a run for their money.

You can also read it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24618538

#SasuHinaMonth2020 #The SasuHina Month tag is now on Ao3 too!#Yay!#Angst #day 8 #continuation of day 7 #long post?

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