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villainofmyownstory · 11 days

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Zultanite

Part I - Gravity

AO3

pairing: Poly 141 x plus size fem!reader

summary: After inheriting jewelry from your dearest grandmother and one visit to a fortune teller. Your life is changing. Not once, not twice… but four times.

tags: Polyamory × Poly 141 × Strangers to Lovers × Stranger Sex × Polyamorous Task Force 141 (Call of Duty) × Smut × Oral Sex × Eventual Romance

a/n: Today I heard the song Gravity by Ralph, which inspired me to write this story. Each part will feature a different member of TF141.

Parts of the song lyrics are in italics.

Let me know what you think, I'm still learning how to write smut.

English is not my first language, so probably many things are poorly described and the vocabulary is very simple. If you see any mistakes - let me know!

✨🔮🌠🌟✨🔮🌠🌟✨🔮🌠🌟✨🔮🌠🌟✨🔮🌠🌟✨🔮🌠

Part I - Gravity

Kyle ”Gaz” Garrick

You are sitting in a small, narrow corridor, surrounded by many strange objects. Your heart is beating fast. You feel uneasy. The walls are colorful, trinkets, colorful lamps and curtains hang from the ceilings.

There is a sweet, heavy but pleasant scent in the air.

You only came here because your friend got an unusual gift from someone for her birthday. A rather peculiar one. A visit to a fortune teller.

You don't believe in such things, you are a rather down-to-earth woman. No fairies, princesses, wizards, unicorns or magical powers of objects. Pure science. Logic.

But you'll do anything for your friends.

You are snapped out of these ponderings by a voice from the side. Your girlfriend's more impatient and curious about the whole aura around the place.

“Thursday: cinnamon, musk, sage.... Interesting, maybe we should come another day. Oh! For example, on Sundays the smell of lemon. Do you know what it's good for?”

You didn't even have time to open your mouth to answer that of course you don't know what lemon is good for. For... a cold?

“Welcome, fairy Avery is expecting another visitor.”

You get up, but the person standing by the door tells you to wait. One person may be in the room with the fairy so as not to disturb her aura.

Or something else.

You sit back in your chair and look around the room out of boredom, since there isn't even a signal on your phone here. Finally, you glance at the flyer your friend was looking at a moment ago. Without delving into it, you simply flip through it quickly.

'Frankincense not only smells beautiful, but also has magical powers. Some intensify love, others intuition, there are also those that protect against evil powers...

Numerological matching ...

Venus Prophecy ...

If you want to know what fate has prepared for you and check what awaits you in the near future ... ask the magic ball ...

Tarot Celtic Cross

Amulets and talismans ...'

“That's interesting...”

You whisper under your breath as you see a photo of a confusingly similar stone. The kind you just had around your neck.

You had inherited the necklace from your grandmother, as well as to the pair, earrings and a ring. But in accordance with your grandmother's request, you wore the necklace every day since the day you received it.

Since yesterday being precise. Only yesterday someone from the family in your grandmother's long-abandoned house, found the lost box. With a letter and things for you.

When your friend with a smile on her lips comes out of the fortune teller's room, you want to get out of this place as soon as possible. You did not come here for any divination, tarot, palm reading.

However, the voice again invites another person, and apart from the two of you, there is no one in the hallway.

Slightly pushed by the girl you go into the room.

“I've been waiting a long time for you”.

When the door slams behind you the room falls into semi-darkness. The only sources of light are candles arranged in places.

You approach the most illuminated spot, a small round table in the middle of the room.

A small figure sits on the opposite side and holds one hand over a glass sphere.

If you're wondering what the fairy looked like. Yes, just what you think.

Her face hidden in a storm of loose hair, colorful wide clothes, a mass of necklaces, beads, talismans and rings.

It's hard to tell her age, but judging by her voice, she may already be in her midlife years.

“At me?”

You ask finally approaching the table.

“Sit down, and don't ask questions. The sphere has already told me everything... with the rest, you know very well what awaits you again...”

Sitting down on the chair closely watching the woman, you understand nothing of what she says. Maybe there's really no point in asking her anything, as you won't believe it anyway. Let her say what she has to say, and quickly leave this strange place.

“Four. That's your number, definitely. A strong, strong four. Unbreakable.

The same thing awaits you...yes, but this time it will be ..more intense, more interesting, so... complete. “

In the room as if the wind blew, many candles go out, and your skin went through shivers.

The woman pays no attention to this and continues

“Only this time be guided by your heart, okay? It will be a happy and joyful time, use it. And don't regret anything. Just remember, choose with your heart. Not with the mind.”

With her last word, the room goes dark. You sit slightly puzzled and bewildered.

What actually happened?

Having, once again in this peculiar place, no time to ask questions. The door behind you opens and again that mysterious voice informs you that the visit is over.

Kyle was the first one.

Kyle was the right one.

Kyle.

He just was.

Didn't think I was ready for love again.

Saturday, you walk ahead. Since the morning, you felt a great need to just get out of the apartment, this small cramped place. Claustrophobic.

Sometimes you have days like this, to go out without looking back. To leave everything behind and go. Walk, just simply walk, step by step. Until your legs start to hurt. Or until it gets dark.

Sunk in your thoughts you reach quite far, from home. Your walk has been going on for a good three hours. It has started to rain. You think a little bit and you hide under the canopy of one of the nearest buildings.

Will you catch me if I float?

Glad that you didn't get too wet, on the other hand you curse yourself in your mind. You didn't even take your phone with you, you'll have to wait until it stops raining.

Looking up you sadly conclude that, unfortunately, it doesn't look like the weather is going to change any time soon.

There aren't even any people around, no pedestrians. No one.

Minutes pass, long boring ones.

Finally you hear the sound of an engine, a car approaching at high speed. You think maybe it's a taxi, you step out from under the canopy and at that moment the car drives past you.

Splashing you.

“Fuck! Are you kidding me?”

Angrily you wipe your wet face to see anything. The car has unfortunately already disappeared around the corner, so you weren't even supposed to see what the car was. Even, you couldn't see its color.

You stand like this, on the sidewalk, not caring that the rain is falling on you. You are soaked. Even your hair is wet and stuck to your face. Just like your clothes, they have become heavy and cold. It's like someone threw you into a pool with your clothes on.

I think you even have wet panties.

“Just great!”

You mumble irritably, feeling a lump in your throat. You don't want to cry, but you feel terrible. Not only physically. But somehow mentally, too.

This situation reminds you of the humiliation you experienced because of your physical appearance in the past, at school.

Trying to at least drain the water from your hair and somehow tie it up or braid it. So it doesn't bother you, you don't pay attention that a car has stopped next to you.

Cause I feel gravity, gravity, gravity Pulling you to me, you to me, you to me

“Excuse me? Perhaps, I can somehow...help you?”

A warm and concerned voice gets your attention. You raise your head and freeze.

A few steps in front of you there is a large dark car, a man is looking at you from the open window.

Very handsome. Young. Definitely not from your small town. Probably some sort of passerby.

“Can I help you somehow, ma'am?”

Laughing lightly, he repeats the question. His voice pleasant, like a spring wind, like a meadow full of flowers, like warm tea with honey and raspberries.

Finally you shake it off, and say without thinking much about it.

“Actually, yes.”

Maybe you shouldn't get into the car of a complete stranger, but there's something that tells you to agree, to get in, to finally go home.

You're terribly wet and cold.

You quickly get into the passenger seat fastening your seat belt and giving your address.

You introduce yourself, gently squeezing the man's hand. His hand, despite several scars and hard skin, is warm and very welcoming to you.

It seems the two of you hold hands a few moments longer than the usual greeting should last.

Fixing your hair behind your ear, you smile slightly at the man and slowly let go of his hand. However, despite this, his gaze does not leave your face.

“I'm Kyle...”

The man finally says, turning on the car's engine and slowly moving towards your house.

No oxygen up here Must be gravity, gravity

The drive passes undeniably quickly, the streets at this hour and considering the weather are unusually empty.

You don't exchange many sentences, typically pleasantries. He's here on business, you've lived here all your life.

He can't talk about work, but it's something related to ''safety.''

You, on the other hand, could talk about your work for hours, but you don't want to bore him with scientific babble.

He, when speaking, gesticulates, speaks confidently and laughs loudly.

You, on the other hand, speak quietly, smiling gently. Intimidated.

Actually, you don't know how it happens that a man is already standing in front of your door. He is so charming, kind, friendly. That you agree without thinking as he offers to go to your house under his umbrella.

Truly charming he is.

Putting the key in the lock and opening the door, you turn towards the man

“Maybe as a thank you... I didn't do any shopping, but maybe.... Perhaps you'd like some tea and cake?”

“Sure, a cup of tea is even necessary in this weather.”

He laughs loudly again smiling widely.

You hastily put water in the kettle for tea, gently shivering. Those damn clothes stuck to your skin like wet cold scales.

You quickly prepare cups and plates of cookies. As you turn around to go and finally change into something thick, warm and comfortable. You impetuously bump into the man who inaudibly entered the kitchen and stood a step behind you.

“Excuse me.”

You mumbled embarrassedly. Surely that collision with your weight must have hurt him.

Kyle smiles at you while gently tilting his head

“You're soaked.”

Saying this, he brushes away unruly strands of hair from your face.

You swallow your drool loudly.

Why has the kitchen suddenly become so stuffy? Was it the boiling water that raised the temperature in the small apartment so dramatically?

Oh God no.

It was him.

Kyle.

Grabbing the back of your head, he draws your face to his, and gently kisses you. At first he gently brushes his lips against your lips. But after a while he intensifies the kiss, more greedily. Possessively. With one hand he gently massages the scalp of your head as his other hand wandered over your body, gently squeezing your breasts. Then he lasciviously strokes your belly. His hand slowly makes its way to the line of your pants.

The man between kisses slowly brings out word by word

“Sorry, I never. This is my first time. i mean, never so fast. but, fuck “.

Despite the tangle of words, you understand what he means.

No one ever wanted you the moment they met you. Never has anyone wanted you so quickly.

Should I let go? (Ooh, let go) And lose control? (Ooh, lose control)

In response, you entwine your arms around his neck wanting to show him not to go anywhere. To keep his body even closer to yours.

His hand easily makes its way under the material of your jeans and panties gently poking his fingers into the warm, plush of your lower abdomen. He gently teases the tender skin under your pants with his fingers.

You silently moan involuntarily, his lips slowly directing gentle kisses to your neck.

He is sure to leave marks on you.

As he gently sucks the thin skin close to your pulse, you stiffen, your body is pierced by pleasant shivers.

“Where is the bedroom?”

After these words, you wave your hand roughly in the direction of your small room with a bed and a tiny closet.

When the man finally pulls away from you, with a quiet pop his lips finally pulled away from your skin.

His hand continued to rest in your panties as he gently and calmly rubbed the area around your clit with his fingertips.

Keeping the last remnants of common sense, you turn off the kitchen to avoid burning the kettle with boiling water.

Tea was no longer needed.

As you and Kyle land on the bed, you on your back, the man slowly kisses every part of your body with precision.

Wet clothes with each passing moment land with a slight sloshing on the floor. You don't even worry about the mess you both leave behind.

Lose my breath in your atmosphere No oxygen up here

Once you're completely naked, Kylie kneels in front of you. Stroking your thick thighs, slowly running his fingers over your fat, and you squirm as the cool air hits your wet cunt.

“Show off your beauty, don't hide.”

He opens your legs, not taking his eyes off your face.

Slightly embarrassed, you bury your head in your hands, your elbows covering your exposed breasts. Your large nipples heap under the change of temperature after removing your wet clothes.

“Baby!”

Kyle says more firmly, gripping your inner thigh cheeks.

“I need to warm you up, you're so soaked.”

After these words, he dives between your legs and, kissing your thighs, moves closer to your center.

You feel his warm breath teasing your sensitive skin.

“You’re so beautiful and wet...”

He mumbles, and after these words. You feel his tongue teasing the area around your rear hole, with a long stroke he directs his tongue upward.

His tongue is rough and hot as he focuses on your clit. First teasing the hard little button with his tongue slowly circling it. Then he starts sucking on it.

“That's it, baby. Just mine.”

You moan louder. His words, the slow play of his mouth and tongue between your wet folds making you feel the growing pleasure in your lower abdomen.

It's been so long, no, never before has anyone taken care of you like this. With such adoration and worship.

“Kyle... I think I'm ~oh!”

Your breathing speeds up

“Come on baby. I'll make you cum with my tongue”

His mouth gently sucks your clitoris, and he caresses your swollen bud with his tongue, speeding up the fun of it.

You reach your first orgasm of the evening. Your legs involuntarily shaking, your rippling belly and breasts gently bouncing during this sudden sensation.

“Honey, are you ready for more?

Kyle rises slowly, kissing your cunt, lifting your legs, kissing your lower abdomen around your breasts and sternum. Leaving wet marks on your skin.

He stops at the valley of your breasts, gently tilting his head and squinting his eyes.

“Um... the stone in the necklace has changed color, interesting.”

He smiles and leans in, kissing you on the lips.

As you kiss him, you can feel your juices mixed with his saliva.

“Ready?”

Kyle catches you below the knees, bringing your legs closer to his chest, one hand grasping his erect member.

Just now you stare intently at his penis. His tip is an dark pink, dripping rich pearls of precum, and fuck, it's thick. It's not long, rather a standard size, but the thickness surprised you.

With amusement, the man looks at you, leaning over you again with one hand resting next to your head. With his other hand, he pumps his protruding shaft with quick, powerful movements.

His tip teases your wet and very tender folds.

“Babe, I need you. Right now, next time... I'll take care of you longer, better, all right?”

You nod. Completely ignoring his words.

He slowly slides into your warm and wet hole. Its walls, although invitingly spread around his cock, tenderly and tightly squeeze him.

Both of you are moaning loudly with pleasure.

He embeds his thick cock deep inside you and starts slowly rocking back and forth.

Rhythmic obscene wet sounds, body slapping against body and increasingly loud sighs fill the room. Kyle grabs your wrists and lifts your arms above your head, crossing and holding them tightly like this. Entering you with more force.

He moves faster and faster inside you. You wrap your legs around his hips so that, thanks to the new angle, he enters you fuller, harder. He moves even faster.

He kisses you again, this time with more force, his tongue forces itself deep into your mouth so that his teeth collide with yours.

His movements are less rhythmic now, but deeper, he places kisses on your cheek, neck, caressing your collarbone.

You reach another orgasm at the same time as you feel the man tighten his body and eat into your neck. His warm cum gushing into your pussy, which, under the influence of another peak, squeezes even more around his throbbing member. His cum fills you and gently mixed with your juices flows out of you, running down your folds

You lie like this entwined for many more moments, gasping loudly, his breath teasing your sweaty, tender neck skin.

Kyle, after taking a few deeper breaths, finally says raising his head and looking into your eyes

"The stone in your necklace, is now canary yellow”

Tossing and turning, I can't get you off my mind Thinking about what you did to me last night Am I in trouble? Should I hit the breaks? Being with you is my favorite mistake

#kyle gaz garrick #kyle garrick #kyle gaz x reader #kyle gaz x you #kyle gaz smut #cod #polyamory #call of duty fanfic #cod fanfic #cod x reader #Spotify

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swee7dream · 2 months

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14:38 p.m.

“You saved me.”

Jeno holds the spoon in his teacup and lifts it out, the submerged part no longer silver but white.

“Once again. How did you know?” His dark eyes almost knock the breath out of you like a punch to the gut, reflecting light and authority like any prince’s should.

“The walls talk, Your Highness.”

His eyes crinkle until you can no longer see the pupils, his lips curled up into a smile.

“Right. You won’t ever tell, will you?” Jeno’s legs cross over each other as he turns in his seat to see you out of the corner of his eye. The fabric of his trousers wrinkle and the black shoes that don his feet shine in the way only daily shined shoes would. “I won’t tell anyone you’re a sage. You can trust me.”

“You should just be content with the fact you have me on your side.” You crinkle your nose. “It would not be pretty for you to have me as an enemy.”

“Oh, I’m sure of it.”

You just threatened the second prince of Somnium after an assasination attempt. Still, no guard steps out of line and pins you to the ground to cut your tongue off or send you to the dungeons. Jeno just smiles at you with his cheek on his fist.

“Thank you, my dear sage.”

You’re not a sage. You’re no magician or fortune teller or saintess from the gods. You just happened to read the manhwa this world takes place in and it would really suck if everything went acccording to the storyline and everyone in the palace died by arson from the crown prince.

“Your jaw will grow loose and fall out if you keep talking so much, Your Highness.”

Jeno knows you’re a little rough around the edges, but you mean well at the end of the day. You’re his most trusted advisor after all. He would give you a title if he could, promote you to give you a better salary would be a dream. But he can’t. There’s not much power for an exiled prince, son of a concubine, in the palace.

“Won’t you be there to catch it for me when it does?”

“I only try to stop injustices, not gifts from above.”

“Is that what my silence is to you?”

“If you tried it more often you would find yourself with less enemies.” You finally shift your eyes away from the flower arrangement by the door you were hyper-focused on to raise your eyebrows at Jeno, clearly unamused.

“Maybe that’s why my mother vouched for me to be sent here.”

You’re not exactly smiling and when those words leave Jeno’s lips your frown only deepens.

“The palace is a bloodbath. You should be able to have a peaceful childhood before going to behead your brothers and sisters for the seat in the throne room.”

“I’m twenty-three.”

“A peaceful childhood.” You repeat.

“Aren’t you-”

“A sage. Give me my due respect.”

“And what about me? I am a prince.”

“Eh…” You make a face and turn your face away, suddenly interested in how the dead trees sway in the wind.

"I could be a great prince!" He insists.

"Yes, yes..."

You don't doubt it, but politics is the one thing you're trying to keep your beloved tragic hero away from. You're rewriting everything anew, collapsing towers of betrayal and deception and creating instead houses of monotony and peace. You will not let Jeno die, not again.

#villainess au #nct dream x reader #jeno x reader #lee jeno x reader #nct fanfic #nct timestamps #nct dream timestamps #nct dream imagines #nct imagines #jeno imagines #jeno x you #jeno timestamps

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k-marzolf · 1 day

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I’m gonna live forever—three.

Neighbors, hit man!Billy, pagan!reader, hurt/comfort, discussion on childhood trauma, abandonment, abuse, toxic family dynamics, nightmares, PTSD, fem!reader.

819 words.

@terry2227 @rachlovesactors @e-dubbc11 @kayhi808 @cant-help-simping @bookloverfilmoholic @firequeensposts @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @firexfate @rosaleenablack @aoi-targaryen @vaguekayla @snowkestrel @danzer8705 @milea @littleblackcatinwonderland @zz-kennedy @disneyloverjaime @fictional-hooman @tortilla-chips-and-allioli @idaofinfinity @ittybxttykxttytxtty

(I’m trying to make a masterlist but Tumblr won’t cooperate. I hope this appears in the tags)

“Billy?”

“Hmm?” He asked, sitting next to you in front of your altar, candles glowing and flickering against the deer antlers making strange shapes on the wall, as rain hit the window next to you, bathing the room in a gray gloom.

“I used to go hunting with my uncle. He’s dead now, and I have mixed feelings about it. We had a complicated relationship. He hurt me so many times. But I liked his attention, because I was fatherless. And he did things with me, taught me how to shoot. How to fish.” You said, staring into the flickering flames, thunder rumbled.

A chance to see your practice, and he admitted to himself that he was curious. The woman at the group home had been strict about allowing things with magic, so as not to tempt devils. But you seemed relaxed, but Billy had feared hell on his heels as a child.

“I just needed to say it. To get the hurt out,” you adjusted yourself, a deep sigh leaving you, as you played with the flame on one of your candles.

“Is it out?” He asked, voice deep and warm.

“No.”

“I think holdin’ onto a handful of good memories, and romanticizing the person stops you from movin’ on. No use holding onto something that wasn’t there.” He said, shoulders bumping yours, watching your sage burn, a slightly woodsy scent. It must have reminded you of your uncle, in the woods up north, hunting.

Billy only wished he could take his own advice, thinking of his mother, how he held onto her in the hospital, talking to a woman every Saturday who never loved him. But the memories of her before drugs, knitting and counting stitches had himnholding on. What had he done to make her hate him? He had been just a boy.

“I know you’re right,” you said, bringing him back, laying out your tarot cards, but it was easier said than done to let go of a toxic loved one, you both knew.

“You believe in those?” He asked, sounding skeptical, tilting his head and admiring the craftsmanship of the deck, eyes drawn to the Death card, thinking of his work in the Marines, his jaw tightened. He didn’t want to think about those things with you, he wanted to keep his professional life separate from you.

“No, I studied psychology, so I believe in confirmation bias.” You said toying with the Emperor card, almost burning it in the candle. “Oops,” you giggled, blowing on the end of the card. “But they’re fun to play with.” You shrugged, a smile playing on your lips.

The kids outside shrieked and laughed, and the fall leaves and rain blustered on, and they were having fun in the puddles, but you were warm inside with your neighbor, drinking hot apple cider.

“Where’d you get those antlers?” He asked, peaceful for the first time in a long time, it was why he always came to your apartment when nightmares took him. You had become a refuge.

“Artemis.” You teased him, and he huffed, nudging you with his shoulder again, “A boy hunting with my uncle gave them to me. I was maybe ten.” You said, digging through a resin bowl you made, a deep purple. You pulled something out of it.

His stomach fluttered, as you handed him a rose quartz. “So you can sleep tonight. Chase the nightmares away.”

So you knew why he was always up at, why he avoided naps and sleeping altogether. As a Marine, he’d learned to go on very little sleep. He wondered how long you knew. His fingers clutched it, “You’re too soft,” he husked, leaning down to kiss your cheek lingering, endeared by you.

“I know, I could never bring myself to shoot anything, and I cried when I realized where the cows were going at the farm we stayed at. He told me not to name the cows. It would only make me attached. I ended up just doing BB gun tournaments. He resented my softness, my chatter, my inability to sit still. And then he died, he left me,” you began putting your cards away, as the candles burned brighter, wiggling your legs, knee bumping his.

But Billy loved your soft soul, always thinking of others, of him. Even animals. Like Luna, your stray cat you took in. She’d hissed at you, scratching you until you bled, but you continued to feed her, and your gentleness won her over. A difference from the hard, and practical Madani who never believed in magic, or fairy tales. But you looked for the extraordinary in the ordinary.

His soft fairy, living in your small mushroom house with Luna. He wanted to live there with you.

He tugged on your hair. “I want you to be you, otherwise you wouldn’t be worth half as much to me.”

And you were worth plenty.

#billy russo #billy russo x reader

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quitealotofsodapop · 5 months

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I actually adore the idea of Wukong disguising himself as a mortal and working at Pigsy's while also discovering his own interests outside of being the Monkey King. Dude's been stuck in one job and one position for like, 2000 years, a job he presumably had since he was a KID if you think about how old he must have been when he became the Monkey King. And his responsibilities only increased as he grew older and suddenly he wasn't just the Monkey King, he was Sun Wukong, the Sage Equal to Heaven. The Prisoner of the Golden Hoop. The Eldest of Tripitaka's Pilgrims. The Hero of the Mortal Realm. All these titles and responsibilities just piled up onto this one monkey man who honestly just wanted to be able to live peacefully with his subjects and eat peaches all day.

That's not even getting into the trauma of the war against Heaven, his punishment in the furnace, the 500 years in the mountain, prejudice and abuse from both mortals and celestial beings and other demons, the Journey, and the I weren't trauma of being immortal and having to watch all your lov3d ones die.

Throughout his life; Sun Wukong is used to having so many names. There's an entire research article about it.

Branded with the birthname "Tianchan Shihou" in the Ledger of the Dead - now a literal deadname since he's crossed it out. The word "Shihou" being a privilege only his dearest moonlight is allowed to utter as a petname. He's been The Monkey King, he's been the Bimawen, The Great Sage Equal to Heaven, The Youngest Brother of the Brotherhood, Taiyi Sanxian/"Leisurely Immortal of the Great Monad" or the "Bogus Immortal" in his time as a celestial layabout. Sun Xingzhe/"Pilgrim Sun" during his Journey, and granted the titles "The Great Sage Steel Muscles and Iron Bones", and the "Victorious Fighting Buddha" by the Tang Emperor and the Buddha respectively when his Journey was done.

But after a long, long, long life with all those names, they start to feel more like filler than substance in his life. And certain names that actually meant something died with his friends or his mate many centuries ago.

But now in this "secret identity" he's adapted?

He's just Qi Wu.

Qi Wu; kitchen assistant and delivery driver for Pigsy's Noodles. Owner of an art history degree he worked day and night to achieve at the University.

Qi Wu; mate/husband to Mihou ("maiden" surname Xingjun), the most beautiful and talented theatre preformer in all of China (in Wu's opinion).

Qi Wu; father to a boundless gaggle of demons and alike. The eldest a tall scaly adoptee with lotus flowers in his hair. Firstborn a boy with a wild grin like his own. A firey girl brought in from a tragedy. A little stray shadow taken in from the cold. An impulsive former student turned dutiful son. A pair of twins the visual clone of their Bama but with their father's endless mischief. And Wu's mate tells predictions of more children, of both blood and adoption, in the future.

Qi Wu; baker of the best peach buns, and teller of the worst jokes according to his kids. Most insufferable, but impossible to live without according to his mate/husband. Most trusted employee to his boss/father-figure. An untapped well of knowledge to his teacher/other father-figure. Needs to get more sleep and to keep up attending counseling for his ptsd according to his buff fishy best friend.

Qi Wu; recognised by many as someone who is of importance but unable to place whenever he delivers to the village of monkey demons outside of the city. Only very few trusted stalwarts given the knowledge of just who the delivery man is to them all.

Qi Wu; golden red-brown curly fur littered with old scars and burns. Eyes a deep red and gold not uncommon to demonkind, but a rarity to primates. A pink heart-shaped face marking fractured by a long pressure scar that encircles his forehead, hidden from view either his untamable ginger mane or with a headkerchief he uses while in the kitchen.

Qi Wu; somehow knows many infamous demons and celestial-types alike from his mysterious past. Fears dogs, being on stage, and repetitive chanting.

Qi Wu, a man/monkey yao happy to go home and spend time with his family at the end if the day.

Qi Wu; someone Sun Wukong has never felt like before.

A person.

#sun wukong #the monkey king and the infant #the monkey king and the infant au #lmk #lmk aus #lmk shadowpeach au #shadowpeach

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peachycrime · 1 year

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Locorro, with crumbs of SLK

@spicymiilk @be-the-glenn-to-my-maggie

I think Spiders been in love for a long time, but made a vow to himself to never say anything, he’d rather die than jeopardize everything over his ‘stupid’ feelings

Lo’ak fell in love with Spiders smile, the one he makes when he’s surrounded by the things he loves, the sweet and kind one he passes to Kiri and Tuk, the one full of pride he flashes at Neteyam and the one full of groundbreaking love he sends towards Lo’ak, the one he thinks Lo’ak hasn’t noticed

Spider fell in love with Lo’ak’s eyes, cuz man does that boy have pretty eyes. He fell in love with their sage green color, the way the glowed like jewels in the dark, the way he stares and gives his undivided attention, the way he looks at him, eyes half-lidded full of love, the kind that he ignores out of feelings of self hatred

They’re little nerds together, very protective of each other too, you think you can talk down on the other in each others presence? have you lost it?

They go hunting together, ALL the time, it’s something they’re both good at and they love to brag back to the others about their latest catch

I imagine Spider scaring the shit out of Lo’ak and Kiri with his wiggly front tooth on some random morning. All of Kiri’s Tsakarem training kicked in she was ready to extract that thing. Spider and Lo’ak starting screaming and panic while she tried to get him to sit still. Admits the chaos Lo’ak head-butted Spider dead in the mouth and the tooth fell out.

It took a full hour for Spider to convince them that it was natural and that he was completely fine

Our boys definitely have a secret spot behind a waterfall, it’s a small bioluminescent cave and they have a bunch of stuff stashed there

They don’t really talk about each others insecurities to each other, Lo’ak feels like Spider has it worse and thinks his problems aren’t important. Spider just thinks he himself is unimportant and doesn’t wanna burden Lo’ak

I think that this is something they move past as they get older, they’re both so emotionally sensitive to eachother that they kind of have to learn to communicate.

They pull pranks together, all. the. time. The only people they don’t prank are the elders(mo’at) and Neytiri. Everyone else?? free game. They usually do it to get revenge on bullies or just to poke fun at others

Lo’ak is an amazing story teller, since Spider wasn’t generally allowed to be around during family nights and other such events, he’d make sure pay special attention on story nights so he could later on, retell them to Spider on nights whn Jake and Neytiri went on dates

I just imagine a little Spider, missing one of his front teeth, looking at Lo’ak with stars in his eyes while Lo’ak tells him about his dad meeting Neytiri for the first time

One time, the kids got in trouble and Spider wasn’t allowed to the village for a week, a week where there happened to be a festival celebrating the new season and the kids felt bad because Spider couldn’t come. What do they do? They steal some food, juice and costumes and make a plan. A plan to reenact the festival but with just them (Nete, Lo’ak, Kiri, Tuk and Spider) as a surprise

So imagine the kids in their own corner of the forest, Tuk and Kiri dancing around in their best outfits and costumes on. Neteyam hitting those drums while Spider and Lo’ak just goofing around while singing their favorite clan songs in a mini choir. Core memory.

They make eachothers hair accessories. idc i don’t make the rules🤷🏿‍♀️

Kiri braids both of their hair (no dreads/locs for spider in this one)

They have a secret meeting spot behind a waterfall, they have a bunch of stuff in there actually, extra masks, hunting tools, 2 sleeping mats, a flash light and lots of paints/pigments. They’ve been painting the inside of the cave since they were 10, they add a little something each time they go. It’s a promise to eachother that even when the other is gone, one of them will have something to go back to. And when they’ve both left Eywa’eveng? Then that cave will be a way to immortalize their memories together, and their ever lasting connection.

Lo’ak told Payakan about Spider

In a fit of anger after finding out that Spider saved Quaritch, he told him that he should’ve never came back for him. That’s one of the two things Lo’ak regrets ever saying. The other one was telling Neteyam that he wasn’t his brother.

Spider was hysterical, like genuinely sobbing for Lo’ak to stop and listen to him, he needs to make sure that Lo’ak understands that it wasn’t betrayal. That he would pick them over that monster over and over again, and the he did choose them over him.

Lo’ak comes around, it doesn’t take as much as you would expect but he’s just so tired? He’s exhausted, all the running, losing Neteyam, the weight of everything is just too much. He needs his Spider by his side, but he doesn’t know what to do. So he goes to our beloved Kiri.

Kiri, that sweet sweet girl, she was the first one to know of course, after all, he’s her monkey boy. She’d already heard everything from Spider so she isn’t shocked when Lo’ak comes to her, she understands how he feels and just offers her twin the comfort he needs. She also puts things into perspective and tells her about the ‘son for a son’ moment

They reconcile, they’re weak, but the love is strong, after all, freaks stick together?

I’m all out

#neytiri #avatar james cameron #lo’ak avatar #spider socorro #avatar spider #neteyam #avatar headcanons #jake sully #spider kiri and lo’ak #locorro #locoroco #avatar the way of water

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druidposting · 1 year

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OKAY ACTUALLY THOUGH, this is excellent foreshadowing of Scanlan’s eventual patronage to The Knowing Mistress, and is further evidence of how the CR crew are really using the story telling medium of their animated series to truly bring out the best of each character arc

In the original campaign, Scanlan’s connection to Ioun was really only that “he’s a story teller”, and Ioun loves spreading knowledge, thus story teller = knowledge spreader. But here in the show, Scanlan has a real connection with Kamaljiori, an ancient patron to Ioun herself. He’s the one to make this ancient beast feel - and he does it with quick thinking and honestly expert knowledge of their situation and what he has at his disposal to make it work. He thinks outside the box.

Kamaljiori even says, “in my millennia of existence, this is the wisest sage I’ve ever known.” Which is of course played off as a joke to the audience, but very similar to with Osysa’s “Nobody cares about you” line, those who have seen the campaign know full well that both those things are completely honest to Scanlan’s character. And i think Scanlan’s little bonding moment with Kamaljiori is really gonna lend well to his connection with Ioun in the future, make it seem more destined - fated, even, which is the theme of campaign 1. I hope we see more Ioun foreshadowing with Scanlan in the future!!

#tlovm #tlovm spoilers #tlovm s2 #tlovm scanlan #critical role #cr spoilers #vox machina #i guess this is a scanlan stan account #i didnt mean for it to be this way but im A okay with that #hes truly a brilliant character

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layce2015 · 1 year

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Supernatural (Dean Winchester x Female!Reader)

Nightshifter

Masterlist

*3rd Person POV*

An attractive young man, Frank who was also dressed in a dark suit, comes out of the back with some papers in heris hand. (Y/n) turns to face him as he speaks. "So what's it like, being an FBI woman?" Frank asked (y/n). "Well, it's dangerous. And the secrets we've gotta keep, oh God, the secrets. But mostly it's...it's lonely." (Y/n) replied, in a dramatic voice. "I so know what you mean." Frank said and she nods, sagely. "Yeah." She said.

Elsewhere in the store, Sam and Dean, also dressed in suits, are interrogating the manager, a middle aged man. Dean looked over his shoulder to see (y/n) flirting with Frank and he clenches his jaw. "Helena was our head buyer. She...she was family, you know? She said it herself, every year at the Christmas party. She said we were the only family she had." The manager said as Dean turns back to the man.

"So there were never any signs that she'd do something like this?" Sam asked him. "No. Still can't believe it, even now. That night, Helena came back to the store after closing. Cleaned out all the display cases, and the safe. Edgar — our night watchman — he caught her in the act. He didn't know what to do, he'd known her for years. He called me at home." The Manager said. "And that's when she took his gun?" Dean asked him "She shot him in the face. I heard him die. Over the phone." The manager said.

"Any idea what her motive could have been?" Sam asked him. "What motive? It makes no sense. Why steal all those diamonds, all that jewelry, and then what? Just dump it somewhere, just hide it, and then go home and..." the manager explains as Dean looks down then back over to (y/n) and Frank.

"She killed herself?" (Y/n) asked him. "Well, the cops said. She dropped the hair dryer in the bath and fried herself. They should know, right?" Frank said, questioning, and she nods. "Yeah. Well, thanks, Frank, I think that's all I need." (Y/n) said. "Really? Because I've got more. You know..." Frank said then he looks around, slyly. "If you wanted to interview me sometime. In private?" He asked her.

(Y/n) let's her eyes roam over Frank for a moment then goes to eyes the boys, guiltily, across the room and she could see Dean glaring at her before he turns back to the Manager. "Yeah. Yeah, I think that's a good idea. You're a true patriot, you really are. Why don't you write your number down there for me, that'd be good." She said as she turns back to Frank and places a piece of paper in front of him.

"So you never saw the security camera footage yourself, then?" Sam asked. "No. The police, they took all the tapes, first thing." The manager said as (y/n) approaches them. "Yeah, of course they did." Dean mutters as (y/n) waves Frank's number at the boys.

*(y/n)'s POV*

Leaving the jewelry store, the boys and I drive down a dark street and pull up in front of a small house. "Five -- this is it." Sam said. "Friggin' cops." Dean growls. "They're just doing their job, Dean." I said to him. "No, they're doing our job, only they don't know it, so they suck at it." Dean growls as we get out of the car then he turns to Sam.

"Talk to me about this bank." Dean said to Sam as we approach the house. "Uh, Milwaukee National Trust. It was hit about a month ago." Sam replied. "Same M.O. as the jewelry store?" I asked him. "Yep, inside job, longtime employee, the never-in-a-million-years type. Dude robs the bank, then goes home and supposedly commits suicide." Sam replied.

"The guy Resnick, he was the security guard on duty?" Dean asked. "Yeah. He was actually beaten unconscious by the teller who heisted the place." Sam said and I shake my head. "God." Dean and I muttered. "Yeah." Sam said as he knocks on the screen door.

"Mr. Resnick? Ronald Resnick?" Sam calls out then a bright floodlight turns on, and we shield our eyes. "Son of a --" Dean exclaims as a youngish man comes to the door, warily. "FBI, Mr. Resnick." I said as he looks at us. "Let me see the badge." He said and the boys and I pull out our badges and slap them against the screen door in unison. Ronald squints at them carefully.

"I already gave my statement to the police." He said to us. "Yeah, listen Ronald, um...just some things about your statement we wanted to get some clarification on." Dean said to him. "You read it?" Ronald asked. "Sure did." I said.

"You come to listen to what I've got to say?" He asked us. "Well, that's why we're here." Dean said. "Well. Come on in." He said and he opens the door and leads us through a narrow hallway to a cluttered room; the walls were covered with alien photos and conspiracy theory paraphernalia.

"None of the cops ever called me back. Not after I told them what was really going on. Uh, they all thought I was crazy. First off, Juan Morales never robbed the Milwaukee National Trust, okay? That, I guarantee. See, we and Juan were friends. He used to come back to the bank on my night shifts, and we'd play cards." Ronald explains. "So you let him into the bank that night, after hours." Sam said, questioning.

"The thing I let into the bank...wasn't Juan. I mean, it had his face, but it wasn't his face. Uh, every detail was perfect, but too perfect, you know, like if a dollmaker made it, like I was talking to a big Juan-doll." Ronald said and I raise an eyebrow. "A Juan-doll?" I said, doubtful.

"Look. This wasn't the only time this happened. Okay?" Ronald said then he hands us a file folder. "There was this jewelry store, too. And the cops, a--and you guys, you just won't see it!" He said as Sam looks in the folder; it looked like a Hunter's profile of the jewelry case.

"Both crimes were pulled by the same thing." Ronald said. "What's that, Mr. Resnick?" I asked and Ronald picks up a copy of a magazine called Fortean Times and holds it to his chest. The headline at the bottom reads BIRTH OF THE CYBERMEN.

"Chinese've been working on 'em for years. And the Russians before that. Part men, part machine. Like the Terminator. But the kind that can change itself, make itself look like other people." He said and Dean smirks. "Like the one from T2." He said and Ronald nods, frantically. "Exactly! See, so not just a robot, more of a, a, a, a...Mandroid." he said. "A Mandroid?" I said, confused.

"And what makes you so sure about this, Ronald?" Dean asked him and Ronald holds up a finger, smiling a little wildly. Moments later, he inserts a VHS tape into a player while he explains. "See, I made copies of all the security tapes. I knew once the cops got them they'd be buried." He said and Dean and I nod.

"Here." He said as he fast-forwards. "Now watch. Watch. Watch him, watch, watch! See, look! Th-, th-, there it is!" Ronald said as he pauses the tape. "You see? He's got the laser eyes." He said and we stare at the video and see Juan, facing the camera, with a light-flare in his eyes. The boys and I share a knowing look.

"Cops said it was some kind of reflected light. Some kind of camera flare. Okay? Ain't no damn camera flare. They say I'm a post-trauma case. So what? Bank goes and fires me, it don't matter!" Ronald rants as Sam eyes him cautiously. "The Mandroid is, is still out there. The law won't hunt this thing down -- I'll do it myself. You see, this thing, it, it, it kills the real person, makes it look like a suicide, then it sorta, like, morphs into that person. Cases the job for a while until it knows the take is fat, and then it finds its opening. Now, these robberies, they're, they're grouped together." Ronald said and gestures at a map on the wall.

"So I figure the Mandroid is holed up somewhere in the middle, underground, maybe. I dunno, maybe that's where it recharges its, uh, Mandroid batteries." Ronald said as Dean nods, apparently impressed. I shrug while Sam stares intently then we stand.

"Okay. I want you to listen very carefully. Because I'm about to tell you the God's honest truth about all of this." Sam said as Dean and I smile, waiting to see what Sam says. "There's no such thing as Mandroids. There's nothing evil or inhuman going on out there. Just people. Nothing else, you understand?" Sam said and Dean and I keep a straight face but both of us glance at each other.

"The laser eyes." Ronald said, desperately. "Just a camera flare, Mr. Resnick. See, I know you don't want to believe this. But your friend Juan robbed the bank and that's it." Sam said to him. "Get out of my house! Now!" Ronald yells at us. "Sure. First things first." Sam said and Dean and I frown at Sam in further confusion.

"Man, that has got to be the kicker, straight up. I mean, you tell that poor son of a bitch that -- what did you say, remand the tapes that he copied? Classified evidence of an ongoing investigation?" Dean asked as we enter our motel room then Dean laughs. "That's messed up." He said as Sam sits down to watch the tape.

"What are you, pissed at me or something?" Sam asked Dean. "Nah, I just think it's a little creepy how good of a Fed you are. I mean, come on, we could have at least thrown the guy a bone. He did some pretty good legwork here." Dean said and I give him a look

"Mandroid?" I reminded him. "Except for the Mandroid part. I liked him. He's not that different from us. People think we're crazy." Dean said. "Yeah, except he's not a hunter, Dean. He's just a guy who stumbled onto something real. If he were to go up against this thing he'd get torn apart. Better to stay in the dark, and stay alive." Sam said. "Yeah, I guess." Dean said and he places tracing paper over the map and starts marking it with a red pen as Sam pauses the tape on the flaring eyes.

"Shapeshifter. Just like back in St. Louis. Same retinal reaction to video." I said to them. "Eyes flare at the camera. I hate those friggin' things." Dean grumbles. "You think we don't?" Sam asked him. "Yeah, well, one didn't turn into you and frame you for murder." Dean said as he traces a pattern on paper of the sewer system.

"Well, look. If this shifter's anything like the one we killed in Missouri..." I said, thinking. "Then Ronald was right. All right, they like to layer up underground, preferably the sewer. And all the robberies have been connected so far, right?" Dean said. "Yeah." Sam and I said, in unison. "With the, uh, sewer main layout. There's one more bank lined up on that same sewer main." Dean said.

Later that evening, a security guard leads me and the boys, now uniformed as Securiserve Guard Service technicians, down the main hall. "Well, we haven't had any flags go up on our system yet." The guard said. "No, this is a glitch in the overall grid. We just want to make sure the branch monitors are kosher." Dean said to him. "Well, better to be safe than sorry, I guess." The guard said.

"That's the plan." I said as we go to the observation room, which had several TV screens showing security footage. "All righty. You guys need anything else?" The guard asked us. "Oh, no, no, we'll be, uh, we'll be in and out before you know it, just a routine check." Sam said to him. "Okie-dokie." The guard said and he leaves.

"I like him. He says Okie-dokie." Dean said and I snort at this. "Didn't know you were so easily amused." I said and he shrugs. "What if he's the shifter?" Sam asked Dean. "Well, then we follow him home, put a silver bullet through his chestplate." Dean replied and we sit down to watch the screens. "Okay. Well, you guys got any popcorn?" Dean asks us and I smirk and shake my head.

What felt like hours later, we were still reviewing the screens and see the old guard that lead us here was on one. Luckily, his eyes are normal. "Well, it looks like mister okie-dokie is...okie-dokie." Dean said and Sam sighs. "Maybe we jumped the gun on this, guys. I mean, we don't even know it's here." Sam said as I watch the cameras.

"Maybe we should just go back to the sewers and...and..." Sam said as I noticed something in one of the cameras. "Wait a minute." I said as I point out a middle-aged man turning towards the camera; his eyes flare.

"Hello, freak." I greet and Sam smiles. "Got him." Sam said and he gets up but then I looked back at the camera and my smile falters. "Sam!" I said. "What?" Sam asked and I point at another camera.

We see Ronald scurriying up to the outer door with a chain and a padlock, chaining the door shut. "Hello Ronald." Dean said and we start to walk out of the room then we hear some gunshots. "Oh crap." I muttered as we walk down a hallway towards the main hall; a few panicked people brush past us, running the other way.

"And you said we shouldn't bring guns." Dean grumbles at Sam. "I didn't know this was gonna happen, Dean." Sam said, annoyed. "Just let me and (y/n) do the talking. I don't think he likes you very much, Agent Johnson." Dean said and we walk, cautiously, to the lobby as Ronald holds up a key.

"Now, there's only one way in or out of here, and I chained it up. So nobody's leaving, do you understand?" He yells as we walk up. "Hey, buddy. Calm down. Just calm down." Dean said and Ronald turns to us, startled. "What the- You! Get on the floor, now." He yells at us. "Okay, we're doing that. Just don't shoot anybody, especially us." I said to him as we kneel to the floor.

"I knew it. As soon as you three left. You ain't FBI. Who are you? Who are you working for, huh? The men in black? You working for the Mandroid?" Ronald asked us, panicked. "We're not working for the Mandroid!" Sam yells and Ronald turns to him. "You, shut up! I ain't talking to you. I don't like you." He growled and Dean gives Sam an I told you so look.

"Fair enough." Sam mutters as Ronald turns to one of the hostage that were huddled together at the other side of the room. "Get on 'em. Frisk them down, make sure they got no weapons on them. Go!" Ronald ordered and a middle-aged black man comes over to us and frisks us and finds a knife in Dean's boot.

"Now what have we here?" Ronald asked and Sam glares at Dean. "I'm not just gonna walk in here naked!" Dean exclaims as Ronald takes the knife. "Get back there." He said and he drops the knife in the deposit box. "No, no, no, no, no!" Dean winces and I turn to Ronald.

"We know you don't want to hurt anybody. That's exactly what's gonna happen if you keep waving that cannon around, and why don't you let these people go?" I said. "No! I already told you. If nobody's gonna stop this thing, then I've got to do it myself." Ronald exclaims.

"Hey, we believe you! That's why we're here." Dean said. "You don't believe me. Nobody believes me! How could they?" Ronald asked. "Come here." I said to him. "What? No." Ronald said. "You're holding the gun, boss, you're calling the shots. I just want to tell you something. Come here." I said to him and Ronald approaches cautiously and leans in.

"It's the bank manager." I said to him, quietly. "What?" Ronald asked. "Why do you think we've got these getups, huh? We've been monitoring the cameras in the back. We saw the bank manager. We saw his eyes." Dean said, quietly.

"His laser eyes?" Ronald asked. "Yes. No. No!" Dean and I said at the same time before I let out a sigh. "No, look, we're running out of time, okay? We've got to find him before he changes into someone else." I said to him. "Like I'm gonna listen to you. You're a damn liar." Ronald spat and Dean and I exchange a look before both of us stand up, cautiously, both of our hands out.

"I'll shoot both of you! Get down!" Ronald yelled at us. "Take us. Okay? Take us with you, take us as a hostage. But we've gotta act fast. Because the longer we just sit here the more time he has to change." Dean said but Ronald still doesn't move and aims his gun at us.

"Look at us, man. We believe you. You're not crazy. There really is something inside this bank." I said to him, calmly. "All right. You two come with me. But everyone else gets in the vault!" Ronald said a d there were gasps and cries from the other hostages.

Moments later, he ushers the hostages, including Sam, into the vault. "Come on, move, move! Move, move!" He yells then he turns to Dea . "And you lock it up." He ordered and Dean starts moving the heavy door shut. "It's okay, everyone. Just stay cool." I assured them and I shrug at Sam in apology. Sam swallows, unhappily, just as Dean slams the door shut.

Ronald then precedes me and Dean into a series of offices after we removed our uniform jacket to reveal our normal clothes. "Check behind the desk." Dean sid and we start checking the back room until Ronald yells.

We come back out to see him lying on the floor next to a slimy pile of skin. He screams and stands, pointing his gun at it. "What the hell is that?" Ronald asked, frantically, as Dean turns a lamp on. "Oh, great." Dean mutters and I pinch the bridge of my nose in annoyance.

"When it changes form, it sheds its old skin. So, now it could be anybody." I said as I turn to Ronald, who picks up a piece of skin and smelling it. "It's so, so weird. Its robot skin is so lifelike." He said. "Okay, let's get something straight. It's, it's not a Mandroid. It's a shapeshifter." Dean admits and Ronald looks up at us.

"Shapeshifter?" He said, shocked. "Yeah. It's human, more or less. Has human drives -- and in this case it's money. But it generates its own skin, it can shape it to match someone else's features, you know, taller, shorter, male..." I explained. "So it, it, it kills someone and then takes their place." Ronald said, questioning.

"Kills them, doesn't kill them, we don't think it really matters." Dean said as I look through the desk. "What are you doing?" Ronald asked me and I pick up a couple of letter openers and examine it.

"Nice." I sighed, relieved, then I hand one to Dean before I turn to Ron. "You remember the old werewolf stories? Pretty much came from these guys. Silver's the only thing I've seen that hurts them." I said and Dean and I strides out towards the door. "Come on, Ronald." Dean said as Ronald grimaces at the skin, then follows us, grinning.

Minutes later, we were walking down a wider hallway while Ronald was still chuckling. "What are you, nuts?" Dean asked him. "That's just it. I'm not nuts. I mean, I was so scared that I was losing my marbles. But this is real! I mean, I, I, I was right! Except for the Mandroid thing. Thank you." He exclaimed, happily. "Yeah, don't mention it." I said as we continue on.

Suddenly, the power cuts out and a few emergency lights click on. "Dammit! No, no, no, no, no, no." Dean growls as I look around. "Son of a bitch!" I muttered.

"What? What is it?" Ronald asked. "They cut the power. Probably their way of saying hi." Dean said. "Who?" Ronald asked. "The cops." Dean and I said, in unison.

"The cops?!" Ronald exclaimed in fear. "Well, you weren't exactly a smooth criminal about this, Ron. I mean, you didn't even secure the security guard. He probably called them." Dean said. "Well, I, I didn't, I didn't think t --" Ronald stammers as we stop walking.

"All right, hang on, hang on, let's just take a breath here for a second, all right? They — they've probably got us surrounded. They've cut the power to the cameras so there's no way of telling who the shapeshifter is." Dean said and we take a breath. "It's not looking good, Ron." I said then Ronald flinches at a noise, bringing the rifle up.

"Did you hear that?" Dean asked us as we looked around.

Turned out that the noise was from more people that were hiding in a closet. We helped them out and brought them back to the vault. Dean opens the door and one of the hostages, a red-haired woman, smiles at us.

"Oh my God, you saved us! You saved us!" She exclaims. "Actually, we just found a few more. Come on, everybody, let's go. Let's go." Dean said and we helped some people in the vault.

"What are you doing?" The woman asked as I look over at Sam. "Sam, look, uh, Ronald. Dean and I need to talk to you." I said and Sam leaves the vault and Dean shuts the door behind him, shrugging apologetically.

"It's shed its skin again. We don't know when - it could be in the halls, it could be in the vault." Dean explained to Sam. "Great. You know, Dean, you are wanted by the police." Sam said, annoyed. "Yeah." Dean mutters. "So even if we do find this damn thing -- how the hell are we gonna get out of here?" Sam asked.

"Well, one problem at a time." I said as I begin to pace. "All right, Dean and I are gonna do a sweep of the whole place, see if we can find any stragglers. Once we get everyone together we've got to play a little game of find-the-freak, so...here." I said as I hand him another silver letter opener.

"Found another one of these for you." I said as he takes it. "Now stay here, make sure Ronald doesn't hurt anybody, okay? Help him manage the situation." Dean said. "Help him manage? Are you insane?" Sam asked, his voice rising in anger.

Alerted by Sam's raised voice, Ronald looks over. Dean and I look past Sam and give Ronald a grinning thumbs-up. "Look, I know this isn't going the way we wanted..." Dean said. "Understatement!" Sam shouts. "But if we invite the cops in right now, Ronald gets arrested, we get arrested, the shifter gets away, probably never find it again, okay?" I said and we noticed that Ronald was peering out the window, in plain view, and Sam gestures at him in exasperation.

"Ron! Out of the light!" Dean yells and Ronald moves. "Seriously?!" Sam exclaims. "Yeah, Ron's game plan was a bad plan, I mean, it was a bit of a crazy plan, but right now crazy's the only game in town, okay?" Dean said and he slaps Sam's on the shoulder and we leave.

Dean and I creep along the dark hallways with a flashlight, listening for sounds and watching for movement. Then we stop and look up, seeing a ceiling panel askew. I pick up a coat rack and begin poking it. Then I dislodge it and a naked body falls to the floor. We turn it over and I recognized it as one of the hostages in the vault, his throat had been slit.

"Both of you stay where you are." Ronald yells at the hostages, cocking his rifle. Sam turns to us and we explain to him, in a whisper, of what we found. Then Sam goes back to the vault. "You know what, Ronald? He's right, we've got to get this man outside. Come on. I've got you." Sam said and he takes the guard from the man, that we know is the shapeshifter.

"Yeah, yeah, let me help you." The shapeshifter said but Sma shakes his head. "Oh, I got him, it's, it's cool. Thanks." Sam said and he gets the guard out of the way. Dean and I glare at the Shapeshifter and approach the vault.

"Thank you. Thank you." The guard said to Sam. "Sure." Sam said as he leads him out. "Hey, can we talk to you for a second?" Dean asked the shapeshifter as he pulls out a handgun, that he got from the guard earlier. "You got the gun, man. I mean, whatever." The shapeshifter said.

As he gets close enough, he attacks Dean, knocking him to the ground and I get in front of him and start to fight him but he knocks me to the side and starts running into the dark of the hallways. Dean comes over to me and helps me up and we chase after him.

"Stop! Come back here!" Ronald said and I hear hin running after us. "Get down! Now!" I hear Sam shout and Dean and I turn to see a laser pointed at Ronald's back. "Ronald!" I shouted then his body jerks forward then he falls.

Dean and I duck behind a low wall, and we watch, in horror, as Ronald slumps to his knees, then to the floor, dead.

The hostages run out of the vault as Dean and I crawl behind another low wall nearer where Ronald fell. Sam ducks down beside us, all three of us panting. Sam pulls out the key and hands it to Dean. "Here. Take care of the guard. (Y/n) and I we going after the shifter." Sam said and he runs off while I give a sympathetic look towards Ronald then chase after Sam.

Sam and I approach a broom closet and open it suddenly but it's empty. We hear something behind us and turned around to see the red-head woman and the other hostages behind us. "Please don't hurt us!" She pleads. "You shouldn't be back here right now! You're in danger! Now go back to the vault. Now!" Sam said and they run back.

After hearding the hostages back, Sam and I make our way back to look, only to fknd another shed skin. We sighed at this then I call Dean. "Yeah?" Dean answered. "Slipped his skin." I said. "What?" Dean exclaims. "Yeah, bastard shifts fast. A lot faster than the one in St. Louis." I said, annoyed. "God, it's like playing the shell game. It could be anybody. Again." Dean said.

"Yeah, I think most of the employees are out of the vault by now." I said. "All right, you two search every inch of this place, I'm gonna go round everybody up." Dean said and he hangs up while Sam and I continue to search.

*3rd Person POV*

Dean herds the hostages back into the vault just as the red-haired woman turns to him. "And I thought you were one of the good guys." She said, angry. "What's your name?" Dean asked her. "Why would you care?" She growls.

"My name's Dean." He introduced. "I'm Sherry." She said. "Hi, Sherry. Everything's gonna be all right. This will all be over soon, okay?" He assures her then he shuts the vault door and spins the lock as the landline rings. He sets down his handgun and answers it.

"Yeah?" He said. "This is Special Agent Victor Henriksen." The voice at the other end said. "Yeah, listen, I'm not really in the negotiating mood right now, so ––" Dean started to say but Henriksen interrupts him. "Good. Me neither. It's my job to bring you in. Alive's a bonus but not necessary."

"Whoa. Kinda harsh for a Federal Agent, don't you think?" Dean asked him. 'Well, you're not the typical suspect, are you, Dean?" Henriksen asked and Dean looks up, horrified. "I want you, Sam and (y/n) out here, unarmed. Or we come in. And yes, I know about Sam and (y/n) too." Henriksen said.

"How'd you even know we were here?" Dean asked. "Go screw yourself, that's how I knew. It's become my job to know about you, Dean. I've been looking for you for weeks now. I know about the murder in St. Louis, I know about the Houdini act you pulled in Baltimore. I know about the desecrations and the thefts. I know about your dad." Henriksen said and Dean clenches his jaw.

"Hey, you don't know crap about my dad." Dean replied, darkly. "Ex-marine, raised his kids on the road, cheap motels, backwood cabins. Real paramilitary survivalist type. I just can't get a handle on what type of whacko he was. White supremacist, Timmy McVeigh, to-may-to, to-mah-to." Henriksen said. "You got no right talking about my dad like that. He was a hero." Dean growls.

"Yeah. Right. Sure sounds like it. You have one hour to make a decision or we come through those doors full automatic." Henriksen said and he hangs up the phone. Dean then pounds his forehead in frustration as he hangs up the phone.

Meanwhile, Sam and (y/n) see blood on the floor in front of a closet. Sam opens it quickly, and the half-dressed body of Sherry falls out, her throat is slit. "Dammit." Sam growls as (y/n) punched the wall.

*(y/n)'s POV*

Sam and I make our way back to the vault room, where Dean is waiting. "Hey. We've got a bit of a problem outside." Dean said. "We got a problem in here." I said as I gesture towards the vault and Sam and I tell him what we found.

Moments later, Dean open the vault and the hostages flinch and look around. "Sherry? We're gonna let you go." Dean said to the red-haired lady. "What? Why me?" She asked. "Uh, as a show of good faith to the feds, come on." I replied as she looks between us.

"Uh...I think I'd, I'd rather stay here, with the others." She said and Dean approaches her. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to insist." He said and she looks at us warily.

After a long pause, she approaches us and we shut the vault and push her back to the hallway. "I thought you were letting me go." She said and Dean shoves her forward, holding her head and forcing her to look at the body. She begins screaming hysterically.

"Is that community theater, or are you just naturally that good?" I asked her as she continues to scream. "This is the last time you become anybody. Ever." Sam said. "No! Oh God! Ohhhh...." she cries then she faints.

Then boys and I stare at her, baffled, then back at the other body. Dean removes a rifle from his shoulder and kneels over Sherry. He raises the blade with a shrug, but Sam puts out a hand to stop him. "Dean, wait, wait, wait. What's the advantage of this plan? I mean, fainting now wouldn't help it survive." Sam said then Dean looks back at the other body.

Dean kneels over the other body, then looks up just as he hears a noise, we look up as well. Then we look back at the body, just as it grabs Dean by the throat. As he struggles and stabs at it, Sherry starts to wake up then screams again. Sam and I go over to her as Dean looks over at us. "Get her outta here! Now!" Dean yells and continues struggling with the shapeshifter while Sam, Sherry and I leave.

As we run, we hear the cops coming in and we left Sherry in the corner of the hall then head down the hallway. "Freeze! Let me see your hands." A voice commanded just as we see lights. Sam and I stop then we share a look and nod, slightly. We turn abruptly and take out three armored policemen then we take their clothes and armor and stuff their bodies in a closet.

Sam and I, quickly, put on the armor then carry the extra armor for Dean and began to look for him. Finally we find him standing over the shapeshifter's dead body and we shine our flashlight on him. He looks up at us, panting, and we smiled then handed him the armor to him.

Sometime later, the three of us, in S.W.A.T. armor with weapons, exited the bank and began running up stairs on the outside of a buildlng. We exit the stairs and turn into the deck of a parking garage, walking to the Impala. We get into the car and pull off our masks, panting, and sit in silence for a moment.

"We are so screwed." Dean mutters and Sam nods minutely. "Yeah, big time." I said. Dean starts the car then we pull out of the parking garage.

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moobloom-mention · 5 months

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I've Worked So Hard For This (And You Expect Me to Let It All Go?)

Summary: Wukong's long turned his back on the chaotic life he once lived on Flower Fruit Mountain. Who knew it'd only take 500 years and four new "friends" to change his perspective on life?

The only issue is that the ghost of his past won't stop haunting him.

Content Warning(s): Angst, Implied character death

Word Count: 901

Just a little warm-up I did focusing on how Wukong would respond to Macaque trying to get him to ditch Tripitaka and the gang.

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Wukong always thought himself to be a master of spontaneity.

He’d once had a shadow to correct him, whose voice would huff out utterances of something called “improv”.

It’s expression feigned boredom, corrupted only by the frustration told in the way its hand crushed a piece of parchment that’d once resembled a script of sorts. “You really can’t stick to lines, can you?”

And proud as ever, Wukong had merely shook his head, popping the “p” in his responsive “Nope!”

But what can he say? He’s a creature that likes to keep others guessing. A ball of energy that sinks its fangs along the line that separates formality and its opposite.

You can’t think too hard about manners when in need of improvisation.

It calls for movement without thought behind it.

And it’s why Wukong finds his mind scattered and frayed when his muscles freeze and throat dry at the scene before him.

Because after the hundreds of years spent trapped beneath a mountain, and the many in counting ever since beginning his journey, how would he ever think…this would happen?

“Wukong?” the voice calls, lifting onto the balls of its feet in a familiar tell of anxiety. “What is it? You look like you’ve just seen-”

A ghost.

Ah. That’s the word he’d been looking for.

Wukong’s lips dare to tug upward.

He never thought he’d see a ghost haunting him.

Because that’s what Macaque is, isn’t he? Even as earth crunches beneath black fur, there’s something missing about the stage teller he’d grown up with. Black shoulders crowd into one another, eyes flitting about the clearing as though concerned something will steal Wukong away.

It’s so unnaturally Macaque.

“You found me,” he manages through a strangled voice. Heavens above, he hasn’t felt this dazed since his first taste of sunlight at his Master’s side. “How did you-?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Macaque deflects, his six ears distracting as they swivel northbound to south. It’s subconscious, surely- Wukong had left when the other still hadn’t a grasp on how to control them.

But Macaque’s eyes flash and suddenly his ears are still, satisfaction and triumph compiled into a single expression. “I finally did it, didn’t I?”

Wukong’s eyebrows furrow. Finally?

Just how long have I had a shadow?

It couldn’t have been for long, Wukong’s certain of it. He’d gotten paranoid over demons following his troop, concerned that any snap of a twig could be someone hoping to kidnap his Master and finally obtain immortality.

Macaque should’ve been the one found. Not Wukong.

Still not powerful enough, he swears, tail twitching in fury. Wukong had already been nervous to send Zhu Bajie and Sha Wujing to follow their Master to a close village, but to think it’d of been more dangerous if Wukong went?

Now that’s an insulting thought. For Master to be better protected in the company of Zhu Bajie than the Great Sage Sun Wukong.

What would his Master think of that?

To return and realize that-

Wukong blinks.

His Master would return and see Macaque.

Would see the temptation of returning to a chaotic life splayed in front of his disciple like a prize. Wouldn’t see this as a test of loyalty, but as a betrayal already set in stone.

His head aches.

The grand monk will return.

“We can finally go home,” Macaque murmurs, his voice almost a whisper as though he couldn’t believe it himself. So terribly does Wukong wish to lean into it- to demand Macaque says it again and again until it becomes a mantra.

His head aches once more and dirt sprays from where his staff embeds itself into the earth. The dampness of the reddened wood is a grounding sensation, the scene before him far too familiar.

A demon stands not far from Wukong, demanding of his attention in its own unique way.

Only this time, his opponent takes a step back.

It’s strategy. But not one born of self-preservation.

Macaque treats the battlefield like politics. His only prerequisite is a simple step back.

But Wukong isn’t called the god of spontaneity for nothing. The battlefield is where he thrives.

He forces himself to squint, the grass beneath his feet making it easier to reminisce of a simpler time. When the battlefield was nothing more than a lengthy patch of grass perfect for sparring.

“Maybe follow a strategy this time?” Macaque would offer, a flash of fang nothing but a playful gesture.

“Nah,” Wukong would laugh. “Unpredictability guarantees a struggle-”

“Wukong.”

He blinks and the scene vanishes amidst the gentle haze of the forest’s fog.

But this isn’t like a sparring match, is it? The environment reeks of uncertainty. Of caution. There’s so much fear in the voice he’d grown to know like the back of his hand.

It’s a horrid mockery of how his name should sound on Macaque’s lips.

But it’s also a horrid assumption of Wukong’s desires.

Maybe months ago he would’ve said yes. Would’ve given into the concept of “home” and echoed apologies for ever tempting the Heavens and leaving behind the clear skies of their home.

But today, the sun is dull, overcast by fog and clouds. Today Wukong doesn’t want Flower Fruit Mountain. A chaotic life of playing Devil’s advocate isn’t as appealing as the concept of enlightenment.

The staff’s weight feels familiar in his grasp.

“I’ve worked too hard for this to just go back.”

#lego monkie kid #journey to the west #lmk fic #shadowpeach #lmk sun wukong #lmk macaque #warm up

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seirei-bh · 11 months

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A theory about Maia and Onin

Reading through J&D TPL's design bible, I realized that Onin and Maia have one thing in common: they can both predict the future and can hear and interpret prophecies.

The description about Maia in TPL design bible says Maia was able to predict the future and shout prophecies with a voice that was not her own. In addition, Maia is said to have used a "dark socery" and it is even hinted that she was so powerful that she created an army of enemies (it may refer to her creating the Lurkers or at least experimenting with them to mutate them in different ways). Onin is also renowned in Haven City as a true sort of fortune teller and sorceress. The two are the only human characters who have these powers so strange and uniques.

But why do they have these powers? Why does Onin know so much about the Precursors? And why was Maia going into a trance and speaking in a voice that was not her own? Why did Maia and Gol wanted to experiment with dark eco?

Here we go, theory time!

I believe that Maia and Onin are people "chosen" from birth, just like Jak, to fulfill a role that guides Jak to be the hero he is today. But Onin and Maia had an opposite role. One was chosen by the Precursors, and the other by the Dark Makers.

Onin was born blind and mute, therefore, the Precursors spoke to her and gave her a gift of light eco, so that she used her gift for good, and was, like Samos and Damas, a key person to guide Jak on the good path of his hero journey. Meanwhile, the voice Maia heard was not the voice of dark creatures who used to be Precursors: the Dark Makers, who tempted her and Gol to the dark side. On the one hand, this would cause the future, Jak and Daxter to have to embark on their path as heroes and become stronger, but it would also be what would trigger Jak and Daxter to find the Rift Gate and with it the metalheads could reach their world, destroy, conquer, and later the Darkmakers might also come to that world and destroy it.

However, it's true Onin came to do things that can be considered not very good, since it was she who told Erol that Jak was "special" and that is why the KG took him to prison, but we need to remember that the Precursors are gods who play with people as game board pieces, So Onin knew that Jak needed to go to prison to gain the power of the dark eco to defeat Kor, in the same way Samos also knew it was necesary Jak needed to go to the past and later go to the future.

And in certain way, Samos also is a opposite parallel to Gol, both being sages with an important role in Jak's journey. In both cases, we have a sage and a sorceress.

It was necesary that also Jak had people in both sides of that coin that helped him to become in the hero Mar. Since he achieved both eco powers: light and dark. That's whay the Symbol of Mar represents: the balance.

//extra side note: I also have some headcanons (for fanfics that I never couldn't finished and I hope I can back to write them some day) about Onin being a long lost member of the House of Mar (a Damas's great-aunt or something like that), and that was why she knew so many things about the tomb of Mar, and Jak's mother being a distant relative descendant of the Acheron clan -not directly of the evil twins, of course, I mean descendant about other non-mentioned members of Acheron family. Being those things even here more representative and symbolic to Jak's light/dark sides, but I'll talk more about this in other post~)

#hey I'm back to Jak and Daxter fandom because it's the time of the year when I feel nostalgic for these games again #omg I miss them so much #is more people still in the fandom?#it's been a long time #jak and daxter #onin #gol and maia #jak 3 #jak 2 #jak and daxter the precursor legacy #jak and daxter theories

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nepoupdates · 1 year

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* ꗃ new upload . . . THE MET GALA !

[ the camera pans from sylvia to sage who is making his way over in the background ] “ i can't explain it but the outfit just perfectly encompasses you . ” [ sylvia laughs as the camera pans down to reveal the entirety of sage's outfit ] “ hope it's not too weird that you're now the interviewee . ” // @allinmymincl

“ who are you wearing ? tell me what’s going on with your look ? ”

i'm wearing a vintage bauhaus band tee from the early 2000s, vegan leather pants and shoes that are giorgio armani, and a vintage duster that was custom made for my grandfather in the early ‘70s.

“ who or what is the inspiration for tonight’s look ? ”

goth rock and the horror genre have a symbiotic relationship. like, look at 'bela lugosi's dead' by bauhaus, widely considered to be one of the very first goth rock songs of all time. i thought that paying homage to the band and the gothic subculture would suit the theme.

“ how are you ? where’s your head at ? ”

fine, i guess. i don't really like being on camera, you know ? i prefer to be the interviewer, not the interviewee.

“ what’s the most unexpected thing you have in your purse / pockets ? ”

i brought an IQ bar 'cause i don't know if the food inside is vegan or not.

“ okay i have to know, what’s the story of how you received your met gala invitation ? ”

not much of a story. my dad called me to let me know that the family got our invitation and that i could go if i was interested. thought the exhibit sounded cool, so here i am.

#interviews.#about : sage teller #event : met gala 2023

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lucyav13 · 3 months

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The ancients

The ancients were an advanced civilization. They were highly intelligent and possessed great magical power, and their influence spread across many dimensions for thousands of years.

They had great faith in the power of love, and the passion of some became the stuff of legends. 1,500 years before the events of Super Paper Mario, a particular group of Ancient sages created the Light Prognosticus to counteract the grim prophesies of the Dark Prognosticus (whether this book was written by an Ancient as well is unknown); they also constructed Flipside, and saw to the distribution of the Pure Hearts across the land, believing that the power of love would be the only way to save the universe from the destruction foretold in the Dark Prognosticus.

Among them, there were 4 sages, who made all the plans to prevent the heart of chaos from destroying all the worlds. They are:

Merlimbis

This gentle and loving sage is said to have created the Pure Hearts... She is a direct ancestor of the fourtune-teller Merluvlee and the charmer Merlee..."

Merlimbis, who is described by Tippi as "gentle and loving", was one of the four sages among the Tribe of Ancients. She is thought to have created the Pure Hearts, and therefore the Purity Heart. She is never directly met, only viewed in a stained glass window in Mirror Hall, which reveals that she looked very similar to Merluvlee and Merlee, both of whom are direct descendents of Merlimbis according to Tippi and Tiptron.

Merlight

"He had great knowledge of all the worlds, and is said to have designed Flipside... He is a distant ancestor of Merlon, who still has many of his books at home."

Merlight is revealed by Tippi to have been quite knowledgeable in the nature of dimensions/worlds, and used this knowledge in the design of Flipside. He is distantly related to Merlon, who looks identical to him and apparently possesses a large amount of the books Merlight left behind.

Merloo

(A/N): What's with putting "Mer" at the beginning of the names?

"This sage was very wise and is even said to have written the Light Prognosticus... He was also a great magician who could control dimensions..."

According to Tippi, Merloo was very wise in his time and is even thought to be the author of the Light Prognosticus (although authorship is also credited to Merlumina). In the Japanese script, he is mentioned as having future vision, although this is unmentioned in the English localization for reasons unknown. He has the appearance of a mustache-less, green-robed character, but while the other sages bear resemblance to the "Shaman" characters encountered in the game, Merloo bears only a passing resemblance to Merlon and Nolrem. However, Merloo is said to be a powerful, dimension-controlling magician, similarly to Dimentio and to the "Flip Wizard" Bestovius, a descendent of the Ancients (and possibly Merloo) who gives Mario the ability to flip into the third dimension

(A/N): I kind of have a theory about this, which involves a family tree. I'll post it in a next part, so stay tuned!

Merlumina

The member of this group of sages that we have the most knowledge of.

The wisest of the sages, she was a leader of her people... She was also very passionate, inspiring dozens of legends of her romantic adventures..." According to Garson, their romances threatened to destroy the world more than once...

She was told to protect the Pure Heart in Yold Ruins and await the hero of legend. 1,500 years later, her ghost still waited for the hero to arrive. She is the only member of the sages to be met by Mario and his friends in-game. She is credited with writing the Light Prognosticus by Merlon, although Merloo was also said to be the author.

In fact, some more that belonged to this tribe are mentioned, the ones that are most worth analyzing are:

Merlumina's sister brought the purple Pure Heart to Sammer's Kingdom and fell in love with the king. They had 100 children together, providing the origin of the Duel of 100, and making her the ancestor of the encountered in the game.

The inventor of the Pixls was a human member of the Tribe of Ancients, as was his daughter by extension, who died and had her spirit transformed into the Pixl Queen. The Ancient magician who created those Pixls also had a son whom he believed had perished along with his wife. However, the son survived, and may be the ancestor of Count Bleck.

The Ancients hid the Pure Hearts in various worlds to stop eventual destruction. Then the Ancients scattered to various world to pass the rest of their days. Most of them were wise and kind like Merlumina. And like Merlumina, many of them would totally lose their cool when they fell in love. But it was this very passion that let them build the vessels of love, the Pure Hearts...

The Ancients traveled to many worlds to entrust people with Pure Hearts. It was to keep them safe from destruction or misuse by those with evil hearts. The Pure Hearts were drawn by their own power toward those strong with love. The Ancients used this trait to find suitable guardians in each world. And a few romances also began as a result of these little journeys... Many of the Ancients who found guardians fell in love with those they met. And so they lived their days happily in the world they'd visited out of duty. This is how the legend of the hero was passed down to future generations...

Before concluding, I would like to show you a story that Garson told, and that few know, see:

So yeah, those Ancients were passionate and romantic... Did I already tell you that? Even Merlon, their descendant, is wild for love, you know... Why, he had Quite a thing for Saffron the cook. He went to her cooking shop of hers every day and he wooed her constantly. He finally broke down and confessed his love to her for her... And here's what she said: 'If you can finish an entire serving of my Saffron Special Galactic Meal, I'll date you.' ...And this is one of the biggest, most filling dishes anyone's ever seen, mind you. But he dug right in. According to spectators, he finished all but a sprig of parsley left on the plate. Just then, some poor girl appeared in town who was severely injured. (I think that everyone already imagines who is she). Merlon had to help her, so Saffron let him suspend the challenge.

I don't know what happened to that girl next... But then Merlon became engrossed in his studies of him, and he hasn't wooed since. Maybe he'll get back to it when the world is peaceful and safe again.

You didn't know, right?

And that would be all my research on The tribe of the ancients. If anyone wants to theorize about it, feel free to do so, I will publish the most interesting theory in a next part. Bye!

#spm #super paper mario #my researches #the ancients #spm researches #Merlon #Wiki

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kimageddon · 4 months

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A Prince of Dathomir - Chapter 117

Maul x Nightsister OC (Zaiya Valessa) - Slight Canon Divergence

Word count: Approx 3300

Contains/Warnings: Death, violence, blood, child death.

Chapter Summary: Zaiya and Feral find some Jedi for the hunt.

Notes: So... hi. It's been a hot minute... or 6 months... Well then. This is awkward. As it turns out, my burn out was a bit more severe than anticipated. But here we are! So, what's been happening in my absence? I had a few wonderful comments and check ins from readers asking if I plan to update.... I think this answers that question. As for the rest, uh... I was nearly made homeless, moved house, drew a bunch of stuff, deleted a bunch of social accounts and went ghost for a bit... had a massive breakdown, then put my big girl pants on and decided to try writing again. Next thing I know, I have written like 5+ full chapters. So that was cool. As for APOD and Sins, I don't think I'll be able to keep up with a weekly schedule again, as much as I would love to. But we'll see how we go with it.

Did ya miss me?

Hunt - Part 1

So often when the other Masters and Padawans would go out on assignment with their clone battalions, while Farley Korro was left at the Temple to meditate, only hearing about all the action days after it happened.

Not today!

He and Master Avona Teller had been assigned to a small mission, not his first, but among the very few he’d been granted permission to attend alongside Master Teller. He assumed it was because she didn't have enough faith in him yet.

It bothered him sometimes. Yeah, he was still young, but he was a Padawan, not a youngling! Farley was a little frustrated, he wanted to be a good Padawan and an even better Jedi… but he didn’t always see eye-to-eye with his Master. She seemed to see the Force differently to him. Maybe it was because she was Umbaran? As a species, they tended to perceive the worlds in a different way to humans. Maybe that was why Farley sometimes found it more difficult to understand his Master?

“Keep up, young one,” Master Teller’s smooth and calm voice cut through his mind and he realised he’d been lost in thought again. “Keep your mind on what you’re doing, my Padawan.” I have told you this a thousand times. Her tone was gentle but firm.

“Yes, Master,” Farley replied brightly as he adjusted his pack and hurried his pace to catch up. Another thought occurred to him as he reached her side, “Master…?”

“Yes?” Master Teller asked knowingly.

“You’re Umbaran.”

“Astute observation, Farley,” Master Teller replied dryly.

“I mean,” he continued, “your people, your homeworld, they’re… Separatists.”

“They are,” she replied with a sage nod.

“Doesn’t it bother you? They are your people after all.”

“We are Jedi,” she began calmly, it was rare she ever raised her voice, though Farley could tell when she was disappointed in him. “We are more than just Separatist or Republic.”

“But we serve the Republic,” Farley replied, confused.

“Yes we do, but that does not mean we are the Republic,” she gestured to the path ahead, “I am Jedi. To be Jedi means the individual and the group are one and the same. We are with the Force and the Force is with us.”

“So without the Republic, the Jedi would still exist?" Farley asked, trying to get his head around it.

"Correct."

"So if the Republic were to disappear and something else -"

“A grim thought, but yes, that is the idea,” Master Teller conceded. Farley frowned. What would that even look like? A Galaxy with no Republic? He couldn’t really picture it. Though, he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to, considering his Master was always telling him to remain in the present.

“I guess…” While he was contemplating it, his Master interrupted his distracted thoughts again.

“What is our mission here, Farley?” the Jedi Knight asked serenely. Farley patted the strap of his pack and smiled.

“Delivering aid to the Troopers and civilians.” He grinned, as he finally felt a part of the action. Sometimes he felt it wasn’t fair. Other Padawans like Barriss Offee and Ahsoka Tano got to go out in the field and have amazing adventures so often. He tried not to feel jealous… but sometimes, he couldn’t help it.

Today however, he had the important task of bringing a pack full of rare herbs to a local village so that they could make a very special healing salve, one the Jedi thought lost to time.

A small squad of Troopers were sent ahead to protect the village while he and Master Teller had been sent to collect the special herbs. The village elder was going to assist them in making the medicine and bring it back to the Temple. It wasn’t a lot of excitement, but the chance to work with some Clone Troopers and finally be able to be a Commander! That was something he’d been waiting for.

He was going to finally be a part of the war; fighting for the Republic and stopping the Separatists!

The teenager picked up his pace and continued along the path; his head filled with visions of glory and fighting bad guys. Yes he was a Jedi, and they weren’t supposed to have such silly little fantasies, but the Jedi were known as “Heroes of the Republic” and he wanted to be one too.

Suddenly everything went dark.

It was like smoke had flooded the forest. Farley couldn’t see a thing.

“Master!” he cried. He heard the sound of a lightsaber. He could make out Master Teller’s bright green blade through the darkness.

“Run Farley!” she implored, and though Farley did not want to, he obeyed her. He had to get to the village and deliver the medicine.

He leapt along the path, his heart demanding that he turn back around, that he help his Master! The village was not far, if he could get help-- Another flash of green -- but it wasn’t Master Teller’s lightsaber.

An unsettling face stared back at him, inches away and he recoiled with a start. One blue eye, one glowing green and long white braids, dressed in red and black. He knew her from the holos and from the discussions he’d overheard between Master Teller and Master Shaak Ti.

“S-Siren…!” he gasped. The tall woman pulled back, a single long, curved knife in her hand. it had green flames flickering over the blade.

“Padawan,” she replied, assessing him with the tilt of her head. Her voice made him shudder, there was something about the way she spoke that made the Force ripple around him.

“You don’t scare me,” he cried, reaching for his own weapon and tossing the pack aside. “There is no fear.” The Siren's eyes never left him, but she noticed his focus on the pack.

“What is your mission out here, child?” she asked, rather calmly. Was this some trick? Master Kenobi said she was aligned with the Sith!

“Like I’d tell you anything,” he retorted, taking the defensive stance Master Teller had taught him. She let out a sigh, but her eyes tracked him like a predator. He recalled another Jedi noting something about how this Siren was not human, and the way she watched him with absolute stillness confirmed it. She was creepy. When she did move, it was fluid, almost feline, predatory. She made him feel like prey.

She was scary to look at: her scarred face, spiralling yet jagged tattoos and that steady gaze. She looked like some kind of monster from a youngling story book. Just like the kind of witch that might eat children, towering over him with her evil mismatched glare.

“You are a child,” she hissed with a curled lip. “Why would the Jedi send children into warzones?” Clearly she was unimpressed with what she considered a lack of a challenge. Farley had enough of being toyed with, left behind and underestimated. He let out a cry as he launched himself at the witch.

“I’ll show you what this child can do.”

----

The colours in the Force changed, right before the attack. Lights sparking in reds and yellows moments before the Jedi Knight was set upon by her unknown attacker and her physical vision went dark. She had called for her Padawan to get clear-- she was not sure of the extent of the danger, and their mission came first. The medical supplies were the most important. Farley had to get them to the village, Avona had to hold off the enemy. She was the Master. She would protect her Padawan.

The man was revealed as he launched through the now clearing smoke, Avona saw that he was Zabrak: though little of him could be seen, only a set of distinctive horns. His face was partially covered from the nose down by a cloth mask. She did not recognise the patterns in his ochre skin, but she recognised the anger in his eyes. The hatred. The colours of light that flared and faded in the Force as he moved with all the grace of a seasoned warrior.

He struck at her with a curved blade, flaming green, the shade similar to her own lightsaber. It sliced mere inches from her pale face. Her equally pale eyes darted to him as her blade clashed against his. When it met with her saber, she couldn’t cut through it.

His movements were swift and full of rage. The colours flashed around him in lights that only she could see. Her connection to the Force was steeped in the hues of the living world: she perceived it uniquely and unlike most other Jedi. The colours warned her with a spark that allowed her to anticipate her enemy's movements.

The young Zabrak was angry, though she had no idea why, nor did she have time to think. Avona’s training ensured she stayed in the moment. But she was aware that this Zabrak was unfamiliar.

She fought him back with swift and measured movement. He dove left, she blocked. He swung a kick to her chest, she backflipped. She waited for a break in his guard, after a flurry of strikes, and she hit back.

He was a brilliant warrior, but unrefined. He was vicious, but untrained in the way of lightsaber combat. It did not mean he was not a strong match for her -- as she quickly realised when she saw the spark too late and was shoved back hard against a huge tree by an unseen blast of pressure.

He could wield the Force. Who was this warrior?

"What is it you want?" she bellowed at him. She reached out in the Force, sensing the proximity of her enemy, and her Padawan. The Zabrak before her did not speak, but his pale and almost translucent, colourless eyes glared at her. It gave away his desires.

To kill.

She sensed her Padawan some distance away, but not nearly far enough! Had neglected to obey her instructions again?

She leapt back from the Zabrak assassin and turned, only to witness a white-haired figure, fending off Farley’s lightsaber attacks. He was in danger.

She moved to rush to his aid, but the assassin stepped into her vision, the wicked blade driving downward. Avona only just blocked it. She required focus. This warrior was no match for her in battle. She was a Jedi Knight, skilled in the art of combat. She needed to put him down quickly, so she could assist her Padawan.

She dug in her heels, and faced him, raising her blade. She charged. It was life or death -- she had to kill him.

----

A child.

The boy was a child! Little older than the Togruta Zaiya had met some weeks ago. It wasn’t supposed to be a child!

Zaiya fended off the attacks from the miniature Jedi with relative ease, though he had been trained very well. Why had Feral insisted on taking on the Knight? Why had the Jedi sent out a child for this?!

There were supposed to be two Jedi but no one mentioned he was a kid! She grit her teeth and kept the younger one at bay while she tried to figure a way out. If she really focused, she could kill him rather easily, but she wasn’t trying to. Surely the Knight was enough. She could help Feral… then they could go! Just leave the human behind, he could finish whatever mission he was on.

Maul could get mad later, but she was not planning to kill him. She was just going to keep the kid out of the way so Feral could finish his fight. A quick glance told her he was keeping his own for now, but this Jedi was clearly skilled.

“I’d rather not kill you, kid,” she said, looking down at him. There was something in his eyes that unsettled her. Something that reminded her of someone else.

A long time ago.

“I won’t go down without a fight,” he replied confidently and slashed at her knees. She leapt back, circling the boy while keeping her blade high. He was feisty, and strong willed… he also had the classic streak of arrogance she had seen in many Jedi she had met. It might have been too late for him.

“How about you put the weapon down before you hurt yourself?” she retorted and gave him a shove with the Force, knocking his legs out from under him, though she didn’t chase him, just watched him tumble.

He leapt to his feet with a competent, yet slightly clumsy back spin, and circled around to protect the backpack he’d tossed away.

“I won’t let you take the medicine,” he warned, slashing at her side. She twisted away, deflecting the blow.

“I don’t have any interest in your medicine, boy,” she snorted back at him.

“Liar. You’re a traitor to the Republic!” he growled, his mouth curling in determination.

“Can’t be a traitor if I never believed in it in the first place,” she countered, kicking him back again, if she could at least knock his weapon away--

“Argh--!” She heard Feral cry out, and Zaiya was distracted, seeing Feral clutching at his arm. The boy charged; only to be met with a wave of the Force, mingled with green smoke as Zaiya leapt to the aid of her brother.

The pale Jedi swung her blade down to deliver the killing blow -- when Zaiya’s blade blocked its target.

“Not today, Jedi,” she hissed. The Jedi’s eyes widened, as she too recognised Zaiya.

“The Siren…”

Zaiya shoved her back and began to circle, while Feral stumbled to his feet behind her.

“My reputation precedes me, I see,” the Nightsister responded grimly.

“Master!” the boy cried, rushing forward to aid the woman.

“Stay back, Farley,” the woman warned calmly, holding out a hand, but not looking away from Zaiya. “Take the medicine and go.” Her instructions were clear, steady. Zaiya saw no reason to interfere with Farley's orders. By the time he reached the village and alerted the Republic troops they had scouted, the Jedi would be dead. She and Feral would be gone.

The boy hesitated. After a moment turned to grab his pack and run. At least he knew when to listen.

The Jedi - an Umbaran from what Zaiya could tell - regarded the equally pale Dathomirian with narrowed eyes.

“You are… different than I expected,” the Jedi said slowly. What was that supposed to mean?

“Sorry to disappoint,” Zaiya said sarcastically.

“There is conflict in you.” Immediately Zaiya’s expression hardened and she curled her lip. How dare this Jedi think she knew more about her than herself! Conflict?!

“Is there.” She spoke flatly, more a challenge than a question.

“Where’s the other one?” Feral asked from behind her.

“A Padawan is no test of skill, the Knight will do,” Zaiya replied sharply, leaving no room for argument. The Jedi gave her an infuriating, knowing look.

“What is your name, Jedi?” Zaiya demanded, before Avona could speak.

“Why do we need her name? We’re just going to kill her,” Feral snarled. He blamed the Jedi for attacking his brothers, hurting them… for not saving them, or any of the other Nightbrothers. But he also held true to the Nightbrother belief of strength prevailing. For him, he had begun a challenge, and now he must win.

“An opponent must be respected,” she told him. “We must remember the dead.” The Jedi regarded her coolly.

“I am Jedi Knight, Avona Teller. If you are to kill me, may I at least know the names of my murderers?” she asked with a calm only a Jedi could hold. At least a Jedi would not grovel and beg for life.

They did not fear death. Feral gave a snort behind her, he was not so in touch with the spiritual aspect of death, but he respected Zaiya enough to honour her wishes, she knew.

“I am Feral of the Nightbrothers of Dathomir.”

“You know my name,” Zaiya began but the Jedi Avona just looked at her.

“I know the name you use as a title… What is your true name?” It was a bold question. No one but the family knew her name. Did it matter now? She had left Dathomir. Avona was about to die…

“Zaiya,” she said, keeping her blade in the ready position, “Zaiya Valessa, formerly of the Lu’Lupta Clan.” Her face was impassive, but a hint of amusement curled at the edge of her lips.

“Zaiya Valessa,” Avona repeated. Zaiya grimaced, her name sounded wrong coming from this Jedi, souring the entertainment she felt at this Jedi’s presumptuousness. Still, it felt correct at least that Avona would be granted this respect. She was a worthy opponent after all.

“Avona Teller,” she replied, “you are going to die.” She stepped back, ready to let Feral finish what he started when she heard a cry to her left.

She saw a flash of plasma and jerked her blade up instinctively. Only to realise it was the boy.

The Padawan.

He gasped and sputtered, coughing up blood as his lightsaber dropped and his eyes lowered to Zaiya’s curved blade buried in his chest.

“No,” Avona lamented and Zaiya heard the Force around them become a torrent of pain and rage and sadness. The once calm Umbaran launched at her and Zaiya could only stare at the boy with wide eyes at the end of her blade.

What was he doing?! Why had he not fled as he was told?!

Feral intercepted the strike meant for Zaiya, pushing the distraught Jedi back with all the fierceness of a warrior. Zaiya pushed the shock aside, the rage rising in her.

Idiot! Foolish child! What was he thinking?! She withdrew her blade slowly, and he fell back onto the mossy ground. His brown eyes searching, his face contorted in pain. He was fading fast, but he was suffering.

She heard a cry and leapt to one side, avoiding Avona’s blade by mere inches. The boy’s condition had to wait.

----

No…

Farley.

She couldn’t let this happen. Everything moved so fast. One moment, all was calm, she was talking them down. It was just her, and the two Zabraks. Farley was safe. Why did he come back?

Avona attacked. She had to keep the panic at bay, she had to save her Padawan. The colours of the Force flared in sharp, frantic blasts. Her emotions were too raw to be fully controlled. Farley. She had to protect him.

The Nighsister was a traitor to the Republic. She had stabbed Farley. Her Padawan. A child. Her vision was filled with the clashing of green on green as the offending witch faced her. Avona let out a cry as she charged.

She flipped back to get some distance, if she could grab him--

But Siren was too quick, closing in and slashing at her. Avona blocked, pushing the witch back to attack again--

“Ahh!” she cried out as pain bloomed across her back. The Jedi stumbled. Another cut across her arms, and her grip faltered. No. Farley. Her breath caught as she felt agony searing in her middle. The long blade of Feral’s weapon stuck out from her belly. The marked warrior and traitorous witch had bested her. She tried to reach for her weapon, but her knees gave out.

Avona collapsed; her vision and the colours began to fade.

As she stared at the sky, her pain began to dissipate. Her training had cushioned her fall into death, but she couldn't go.

Not yet.

She sensed Farley's life-force draining across from her: it wouldn't be long now, until he was ready. She was determined to wait for him, to guide him one last time. They could return to the Force together.

She reached out to him, calming, soothing.

I'm here. Then she stretched herself across the galaxy, in the Force and the spectrum of colours. She called to her, one last time. Vibrant memories of burnt orange skin, a soft embrace. Warmth, acceptance, a lifetime of neglected touch. A vow to something bigger than them all.

As Avona lay dying, committed to her order until the very last moment, she made her final promise, and knew that Shaak-Ti could hear her.

I will find you.

Notes: For those of you paying attention, the Jedi and Padawan are not in fact mine, but belonging to the amazing, the talented, the legendary @eloquentmoon - if you haven't checked out their stuff on tumblr or AO3 then I would offer a recommendation. Moonie is a phenomenal writer and has actually written a piece for me as a gift of Maul and Zaiya and wow, it really knocked my socks off. Check her stuff out if you have a moment.

As always I ask for comments, reblogs or the like. I love feedback, it really helps in the creative process and I very very very much appreciate any and all comments of support.

If you wanna support me further in my artistic or otherwise creative endeavours, check out my Patreon. I hope you all have a fantastic day!

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