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fangirlvibez · 1 year

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The Bradshaw son and Seresin daughter - part 5

Characters: Bradley Bradshaw x female!OC Madison Ella Hanscott, Son!OC Nicolas Peter Bradshaw, Jake Seresin x female!OC Quinn Kelsell, Daughter!OC Hazel Alexandra Seresin, Son!OC Benjamin Jacob Seresin, OC!Connor Malcolm Oxland

Warnings: in this chapter: mention of teenage pregnancy. Navy inaccuracy (Let me know if I forgot a warning)

Summary of the story: The 16 year old daughter of Jake Seresin gets pregnant. The dad: the 18 year old son of Bradley Bradshaw. How will the dads react to their kids becoming teen parents.

A/N: English is not my first language, so if there is any spelling or grammar errors: please let me know

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“I heard some officers talking in the hallway” he started. “They were talking about the Top Gun teachers that still won’t retire” Nick could feel Hazel stiffen up. Nick swallowed before continuing. “I’m 99 percent sure they were talking about our dads”

July 29, 2046

Top Gun

Bradley Rooster Bradshaw and Jake Hangman Seresin were in the briefing room about the look over the newest members of their Top Gun class. “Have they asked you to retire too?” Jake asked while opening the folder with all the personal information of their new students. “Yes, they did. I already told them that I will retire when I decide to retire” he answered, taking the same folder out of his pack of documents. “Let’s see which smart asses we need to teach this year” he sighed.

Bradleys plan was to retire when Nick would get accepted into the academy. But with him gone he decided to not retire. Work kept his mind from wondering how his son was doing. Where they could be. What happened with the baby. What they were doing with their lives. After 5 years he felt as guilty as he did when he found out they were gone.

Jake kept quiet as well. His plan was to retire when Benjamin would go to university. And he did. One year ago, he left for university to study medicine. But Jake couldn’t do it. He couldn’t retire. The house felt too empty with Benjamin off to university and Quinn still working and Hazel gone from the home. He wondered the same thing as Bradley: where could they be? How were they? Where they still together? Where they still alive? Before his thoughts spiraled to the worst case scenario, he cleared his throat. “Let’s see shall we” he said.

~~~~~~~~~~

“So that was Lieutenant Charlotte Alyssa Polman. She is the only girl we have this year.” Jake finishes the information on the red haired girl. Her picture vanishes from the big screen in front of the room. “We have two more to go over. Pilot and WSO” he touches something on his tablet and a new picture appears on the screen. The man had black hair and blue eyes. He had a small scar on his lip, only visible if you look very closely.

“Lieutenant Connor Malcolm Oxland, callsign: T-Rex, age: 26. He is WSO to …” Jake stopped talking when he saw the picture on his tablet and the name under the picture. “WSO to who?” Bradley asked. He was tired and ready to finish this briefing. “Come on Hangman, their name can’t be that difficult to pronounce can it? Can you hurry up? I need to go home and walk the dog.” Jake looked up at Bradley before signing and pushing a button. The picture appeared on the screen and Bradleys eyes widen.

“WSO to Lieutenant Nicolas Peter Bradfield, callsign: Dash, age: 23.” Jake finishes his speech. Bradley looked at the picture. Even though the surname didn’t match, he knew the boy or rather man on the picture. It was his son. His 18 year old son who looked older now. He wasn’t the skinny 18 year old anymore who he remembered. He was a muscled 23 naval aviator now. An aviator who was coming to Top Gun. An aviator he was going to see live in front of him within a week. “I need to call Madison” he said. Rushing out of the room and towards his office where he called his wife with the exciting but scary information he received.

~~~~~~~~~~

June 4, 2046

Top Gun

The Bradfield family had landed at Top Gun. Hazel had managed to get a week off work to come visit her boyfriend during the first week of Top Gun. The family was staying in a small beach house 15 minutes from base.

“They are going to be here, I know they will” Nick told his girlfriend the evening before his first Top Gun class. It was almost 10 pm and the kids were already sleeping for 2 hours. Hazel was already sitting under the covers. Her back resting against the headboard. “Yes, they probably will. But don’t let them get under your skin. Show them how of a great man you became. How good of a pilot you are” she said. “You deserve to be here. You can’t let them ruin this for you” Nick nodded. Hazel was right. He and T-Rex worked hard to get here. He deserved to be here. “You’re right, what will I do without you?” He asked, leaning with his hands on the mattress to give his girlfriend a kiss.

Nick woke up at 4:45 am to get ready for his class. He had to be in the classroom at 6 am sharp. At 5:30 he was knocking on his neighbours door. A tired T-Rex opened the door. “Yes, yes. I’m awake. Let’s go” he mumbled to his best friend. Nick laughed, T-Rex was never a morning person while Nick was up and about the moment his alarm went off. The duo started walking towards base. “I just realise Dash” T-Rex started. Nick looked up from his boots to face Connor. “We’re about to start Top Gun. We’re in the number one percent of the Navy” he said. Nick nodded. Honestly he couldn’t believe it himself. “Yeah Rex, we’re in the top 1%.” The Top 1%. The top 1% his dad was also in. The top 1% his granddad was in. The top 1% his father-in-law was in. The fact started to sink in.

20 minutes later Nick and Connor were sitting in the classroom. They were sitting at the pathway on the third row from the front. 10 minutes. Within 10 minutes the class will start and Nick will see his father and father-in-law for the first time in 5 years.

Those 10 minutes felt like hours before they heard a strong voice. “Attention on deck!” All aviators stood up, before they were told to sit down again. Two men walked down the pathway towards the front of the classroom. Nick looked up when their boots walked past him. He could see the grey hairs on the back of their heads. Both men stood tall before turning and facing the class. He could see his dad and his greying mustache. He could see his father-in-law with the same green eyes of his girlfriend.

“Let me introduce ourselves. I’m Rear Admiral Bradley Bradshaw. Callsign Rooster. This is Rear Admiral Jake Seresin. Callsign Hangman. We will be your instructors for the next 13 weeks.” His voice hasn’t changed in 5 years, while Nicks became deeper. Bradleys eyes wander over the new students. His eyes stop when he meets similar brown eyes. Nicolas Dash Bradfield. He really wants to know why he changed his surname. Nick stared back, not looking away. He was trying to see what emotion his dad was feeling right now.

“We will start today with some basic dog fighting. We want to see what you’re capable of. How you work together and your skills in general. Rooster and I will be your targets. We already made pairs to fight against us. The first ones up are…” Jake started to explain, looking down at his clipboard. “Lieutenant Emmanuel “Razor” Sánchez with Lieutenant Nicolas “Dash” Bradfield and Lieutenant Connor “T-Rex” Oxland. The rest can start with some gym exercises. A trainer will be waiting for you in the gym hall. You’re dismissed” he said. Nick is the first one out of his chair. Too fast that Bradley doesn’t have the change to talk to him. Connor is shocked in how fast he was out of the room.

Connor runs behind his friend before he started walking next to him towards their plane. “What was that? Your callsign should be Flash with how fast you left the room” he laughed, hitting Nicks back with his hand. Before he can answer a loud voice came from behind him. “Lieutenant Bradfield” Nick stopped walking and turned around. His aviators sitting on his nose and blocking out the shining sun. Walking towards him was Bradley. Connor shares a look with Nick. “I’ll do the check up for our plane” he said, sensing that he wasn’t needed for this conversation.

Bradley stopped in front of his son. He could see the resemblance now he’s older. Madison always said he was going to look like him when he would be older. She wasn’t lying. “I’ll like to talk to you at the end of the day. 1700 hours. My office.” Nick nodded. Before turning and looking towards his plane. “Is that all Rear Admiral Bradshaw?” He asked, looking into his dads eyes. “Am I dismissed?” He asked. Bradley nodded and Nick didn’t hesitate to turn and walk towards Connor. He already knew this wasn’t going to be a calm conversation like he hoped it would be.

Taglist: @confusedpimp @dempy @michael-loves-chickens @massivedetectivestudent @starkleila @mirrorball-6 (if your username is crossed out it means I couldn’t tag you) (let me know if you want to be tagged)

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religion-is-a-mental-illness · 6 months

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By: Riittakerttu Kaltiala

Published: Oct 30, 2023

Dr. Riittakerttu Kaltiala, 58, is a Finnish-born and trained adolescent psychiatrist, the chief psychiatrist in the department of adolescent psychiatry at Finland’s Tampere University Hospital. She treats patients, teaches medical students, and conducts research in her field—publishing more than 230 scientific articles.

In 2011, Dr. Kaltiala was assigned a new responsibility. She was to oversee the establishment of a gender identity service for minors, making her among the first physicians in the world to head a clinic devoted to the treatment of gender-distressed young people. Since then, she has personally participated in the assessments of more than 500 such adolescents.

Earlier this year, The Free Press ran a whistleblower account by Jamie Reed, a former case manager at The Washington University Transgender Center at St. Louis Children’s Hospital. She recounted her growing alarm at the effects of treatments that sought to transition minors to the opposite sex, and her escalating conviction that patients were being harmed by their treatment.

Although a recent New York Times investigation largely corroborated Reed’s account, many activists and members of the media continue to dismiss Reed’s claims because she is not a physician.

Dr. Kaltiala is. And her concerns are likely to get more attention in the U.S. now that a young woman who medically transitioned as a teenager has just sued the doctors who supervised her treatment, along with the American Academy of Pediatrics. According to the suit, the AAP, in advocating for youth transition, has made “outright fraudulent statements” about evidence for “the radical new treatment model, and the known dangers and potential side effects of the medical interventions it advocates.”

Here, Dr. Kaltiala tells her own story, describing her increasing worries about the treatment she approved for vulnerable patients, and her decision to speak out.

Early in my medical studies, I knew I wanted to be a psychiatrist. I decided to specialize in treating adolescents because I was fascinated by the process of young people actively exploring who they are and seeking their role in the world. My patients’ adult lives are still ahead of them, so it can make a huge difference to someone’s future to help a young person who is on a destructive track to find a more favorable course. And there are great rewards in doing individual therapeutic work.

Over the past dozen or so years there has been a dramatic development in my field. A new protocol was announced that called for the social and medical gender transition of children and teenagers who experienced gender dysphoria—that is, a discordance between one’s biological sex and an internal feeling of being a different gender.

This condition has been described for decades, and the 1950s is seen as the beginning of the modern era of transgender medicine. During the twentieth century, and into the twenty-first, small numbers of mostly adult men with lifelong gender distress have been treated with estrogen and surgery to help them live as women. Then in recent years came new research on whether medical transition—primarily hormonal—could be done successfully on minors.

One motivation of the medical professionals overseeing these treatments was to prevent young people from facing the difficulties adult men had experienced in trying to convincingly appear as women. The most prominent advocates of youth transition were a group of Dutch clinicians. They published a breakthrough paper in 2011 establishing that if young people with gender dysphoria were able to avoid their natural puberty by blocking it with pharmaceuticals, followed by receiving opposite-sex hormones, they could start living their transgender lives earlier and more credibly.

It became known as the “Dutch protocol.” The patient population the Dutch doctors described was a small number of young people—almost all male—who, from their earliest years, insisted they were girls. The carefully selected patients, apart from their gender distress, were mentally healthy and high-functioning. The Dutch clinicians reported that following early intervention, these young people thrived as members of the opposite sex. The protocol was quickly adopted internationally as the gold standard treatment in this new field of pediatric gender medicine.

Concurrently, there arose an activist movement that declared gender transition was not just a medical procedure, but a human right. This movement became increasingly high profile, and the activists’ agenda dominated the media coverage of this field. Advocates for transition also understood the power of the emerging technology of social media. In response to all this, in Finland the Ministry of Social Affairs and Health wanted to create a national pediatric gender program. The task was given to the two hospitals that already housed gender identity services for adults. In 2011, my department was tasked with opening this new service, and I as the chief psychiatrist became the head of it.

Even so, I had some serious questions about all this. We were being told to intervene in healthy, functioning bodies simply on the basis of a young person’s shifting feelings about gender. Adolescence is a complex period in which young people are consolidating their personalities, exploring sexual feelings, and becoming independent of their parents. Identity achievement is the outcome of successful adolescent development, not its starting point.

At our hospital, we had a big round of discussions with bioethicists. I expressed my concern that gender transition would interrupt and disrupt this crucial psychological and physical developmental stage. Finally, we obtained a statement from a national board on health ethics cautiously suggesting we undertake this new intervention.

We are a country of 5.5 million with a nationalized healthcare system, and because we required a second opinion to change identity documents and proceed to gender surgery, I have personally met and evaluated the majority of young patients at both clinics considering transition: to date, more than 500 young people. Approval for transition was not automatic. In early years, our psychiatric department agreed to transition for about half of those referred. In recent years, this has dropped to about twenty percent.

As the service got underway starting in 2011, there were many surprises. Not only did the patients come, they came in droves. Around the Western world the numbers of gender-dysphoric children were skyrocketing.

But the ones who came were nothing like what was described by the Dutch. We expected a small number of boys who had persistently declared they were girls. Instead, 90 percent of our patients were girls, mainly 15 to 17 years old, and instead of being high-functioning, the vast majority presented with severe psychiatric conditions.

Some came from families with multiple psychosocial problems. Most of them had challenging early childhoods marked by developmental difficulties, such as extreme temper tantrums and social isolation. Many had academic troubles. It was common for them to have been bullied—but generally not regarding their gender presentation. In adolescence they were lonely and withdrawn. Some were no longer in school, instead spending all their time alone in their room. They had depression and anxiety, some had eating disorders, many engaged in self-harm, a few had experienced psychotic episodes. Many—many—were on the autism spectrum.

Remarkably, few had expressed any gender dysphoria until their sudden announcement of it in adolescence. Now they were coming to us because their parents, usually just mothers, had been told by someone in an LGBT organization that gender identity was their child’s real problem, or the child had seen something online about the benefits of transition.

Even during the first few years of the clinic, gender medicine was becoming rapidly politicized. Few were raising questions about what the activists—who included medical professionals—were saying. And they were saying remarkable things. They asserted that not only would the feelings of gender distress immediately disappear if young people start to medically transition, but also that all their mental health problems would be alleviated by these interventions. Of course, there is no mechanism by which high doses of hormones resolve autism or any other underlying mental health condition.

Because what the Dutch had described differed so dramatically from what I was seeing in our clinic, I thought maybe there was something unusual about our patient population. So I started talking about our observations with a network of professionals in Europe. I found out that everybody was dealing with a similar caseload of girls with multiple psychiatric problems. Colleagues from different countries were confused by this, too. Many said it was a relief to hear their experience was not unique.

But no one was saying anything publicly. There was a feeling of pressure to provide what was supposed to be a wonderful new treatment. I felt in myself, and saw in others, a crisis of confidence. People stopped trusting their own observations about what was happening. We were having doubts about our education, clinical experience, and ability to read and produce scientific evidence.

Soon after our hospital began offering hormonal interventions for these patients, we began to see that the miracle we had been promised was not happening. What we were seeing was just the opposite.

The young people we were treating were not thriving. Instead, their lives were deteriorating. We thought, what is this? Because there wasn’t a hint in studies that this could happen. Sometimes the young people insisted their lives had improved and they were happier. But as a medical doctor, I could see that they were doing worse. They were withdrawing from all social activities. They were not making friends. They were not going to school. We continued to network with colleagues in different countries who said they were seeing the same things.

I became so concerned that I embarked on a study with my Finnish colleagues to describe our patients. We methodically went through the records of those who had been treated at the clinic its first two years, and we characterized how troubled they were—one of them was mute—and how much they differed from the Dutch patients. For example, more than a quarter of our patients were on the autism spectrum. Our study was published in 2015, and I believe it was the first journal publication from a gender clinician raising serious questions about this new treatment.

I knew others were making the same observations at their clinics, and I hoped my paper would spark discussion about their concerns—that’s how medicine corrects itself. But our field, instead of acknowledging the problems we described, became more committed to expanding these treatments.

In the U.S., your first pediatric gender clinic opened in Boston in 2007. Fifteen years later there were more than 100 such clinics. As the U.S. protocols developed, fewer limitations were put on transition. A Reuters investigation found that some U.S. clinics approved hormone treatments at a minor’s first visit. The U.S. pioneered a new treatment standard, called “gender-affirming care,” which urged clinicians simply to accept a child’s assertion of a trans identity, and to stop being “gatekeepers” who raised concerns about transition.

Around 2015, in addition to the very psychiatrically ill patients, a new set of patients started arriving at our clinic. We began to see groups of teenage girls, also usually from 15 to 17 years of age from the same small towns, or even the same schools, telling the same life stories and the same anecdotes about their childhoods, including their sudden realization that they were transgender—despite no prior history of dysphoria. We realized they were networking and exchanging information about how to talk to us. And so, we got our first experience of social contagion–linked gender dysphoria. This, too, was happening in pediatric gender clinics around the world, and again health providers were failing to speak up.

I understood this silence. Anyone, including physicians, researchers, academics, and writers, who raised concerns about the growing power of gender activists, and about the effects of medically transitioning young people, were subjected to organized campaigns of vilification and threats to their careers.

In 2016, because of several years of growing concern about the harms of transition on vulnerable young patients, Finland’s two pediatric gender services changed their protocols. Now, if young people had other, more urgent problems than gender dysphoria that needed to be addressed, we promptly referred those patients for more appropriate treatment, such as psychiatric counseling, rather than continuing their gender identity assessment.

There was a lot of pressure against this approach from activists, politicians, and the media. The Finnish press published stories of young people dissatisfied with our decision, portraying them as victims of gender clinics that were forcing them to put their lives on hold. A Finnish medical journal ran a piece that took the perspective of dissatisfied activists titled, “Why do trans adolescents not get their blockers?”

But I was trained that medical treatment has to be based on medical evidence, and that medicine has to constantly correct itself. When you are a physician who sees something is not working, it is your duty to organize, research, inform your colleagues, inform a big audience, and stop doing that treatment.

Finland’s national healthcare system gives us the ability to investigate current medical practices and set new guidelines. In 2015 I personally asked a national body, called the Council for Choices in Health Care (COHERE), to create national guidelines for treatment of gender dysphoria in minors. In 2018 I renewed this request with colleagues, and it was accepted. COHERE commissioned a systematic evidence review to assess the reliability of the current medical literature on youth transition.

Around this same time, eight years into the opening of the pediatric gender clinic, some previous patients started coming back to tell us they now regretted their transition. Some—called “detransitioners”—wished to return to their birth sex. These were another kind of patient who wasn’t supposed to exist. The authors of the Dutch protocol asserted that rates of regret were miniscule.

But the foundation on which the Dutch protocol was based is crumbling. Researchers have shown that their data had some serious problems, and that in their follow-up, they failed to include many of the very people who may have regretted transition or changed their minds. One of the patients had died due to complications from genital transition surgery.

There is an oft-repeated statistic in the world of pediatric gender medicine that only one percent or less of young people who transition subsequently detransition. The studies asserting this, too, rest on biased questions, inadequate samples, and short timelines. I believe regret is far more widespread. For example, one new study shows that nearly 30 percent of patients in the sample ceased filling their hormone prescription within four years.

Usually, it takes several years for the full impact of transition to settle in. This is when young people who have entered adulthood confront what it means to possibly be sterile, to have damaged sexual function, to have great difficulty in finding romantic partners.

It is devastating to speak to patients who say they were naive and misguided about what transition would mean for them, and who now feel it was a terrible mistake. Mainly these patients tell me they were so convinced they needed to transition that they concealed information or lied in the assessment process.

I continued to research the issue and in 2018, with colleagues, I published another paper, one that investigated the origin of the surging numbers of gender-dysphoric young people. But we didn’t find answers as to why this was happening, or what to do about it. We noted in our study a point that is generally ignored by gender activists. That is, for the overwhelming majority of gender dysphoric children—around 80 percent—their dysphoria resolves itself if they are left to go through natural puberty. Often these children come to realize they are gay.

In June of 2020 a major event happened in my field. Finland’s national medical body, COHERE, released its findings and recommendations regarding youth gender transition. It concluded that the studies touting the success of the “gender-affirming” model were biased and unreliable—systematically so in some cases.

The authors wrote: “In light of available evidence, gender reassignment of minors is an experimental practice.” The report stated that young patients seeking gender transition should be instructed about “the reality of a lifelong commitment to medical therapy, the permanence of the effects, and the possible physical and mental adverse effects of the treatments.” The report warned that young people, whose brains were still maturing, lacked the ability to properly “assess the consequences” of making decisions they would have to live with for the “rest of their lives.”

COHERE also recognized the dangers of giving hormone treatments to young people with serious mental illness. The authors concluded that for all these reasons, gender transition should be postponed “until adulthood.”

It had taken quite a while, but I felt vindicated.

Fortunately, Finland is not alone. After similar reviews, the UK and Sweden have come to similar conclusions. And many other countries with national healthcare systems are re-evaluating their “gender-affirming” stance.

I felt an increasing obligation to patients, to medicine, and to the truth, to speak outside of Finland against the widespread transitioning of gender-distressed minors. I have been particularly concerned about American medical societies, who as a group continue to assert that children know their “authentic” selves, and a child who declares a transgender identity should be affirmed and started on treatment. (In recent years, the “trans” identity has evolved to include more young people who say they are “nonbinary”—that is, they feel they don’t belong to either sex—and other gender variations.)

Medical organizations are supposed to transcend politics in favor of upholding standards that protect patients. However, in the U.S. these groups—including the American Academy of Pediatrics—have been actively hostile to the message my colleagues and I are urging.

I attempted to address the rising international concerns about pediatric gender transition at this year’s annual conference of the American Academy of Child and Adolescent Psychiatry. But the two proposed panels were rejected by the academy. This is highly disturbing. Science does not progress through silencing. Doctors who refuse to consider evidence presented by critics are putting patient safety at risk.

I am also disturbed by how gender clinicians routinely warn American parents that there is an enormously elevated risk of suicide if they stand in the way of their child’s transition. Any young person’s death is a tragedy, but careful research shows that suicide is very rare. It is dishonest and extremely unethical to pressure parents into approving gender medicalization by exaggerating the risk of suicide.

This year the Endocrine Society of the U.S. reiterated its endorsement of hormonal gender transition for young people. The president of the society wrote in a letter to The Wall Street Journal that such care was “lifesaving” and “reduces the risk of suicide.” I was a co-author of a letter in response, signed by 20 clinicians from nine countries, refuting his assertion. We wrote that, “Every systematic review of evidence to date, including one published in the Journal of the Endocrine Society, has found the evidence for mental health benefits of hormonal interventions for minors to be of low or very low certainty.”

Medicine, unfortunately, is not immune to dangerous groupthink that results in patient harm. What is happening to dysphoric children reminds me of the recovered memory craze of the 1980s and ’90s. During that period, many troubled women came to believe false memories, often suggested to them by their therapists, of nonexistent sexual abuse by their fathers or other family members. This abuse, the therapists said, explained everything that was wrong with the lives of their patients. Families were torn apart, and some people were prosecuted based on made-up assertions. It ended when therapists, journalists, and lawyers investigated and exposed what was happening.

We need to learn from such scandals. Because, like recovered memory, gender transition has gotten out of hand. When medical professionals start saying they have one answer that applies everywhere, or that they have a cure for all of life’s pains, that should be a warning to us all that something has gone very wrong.

Medicine has become infected by ideology.

#Riittakerttu Kaltiala #gender ideology #queer theory #genderwang #medical transition #medical scandal #gender affirming care #gender affirmation #gender affirming healthcare #medical malpractice #affirm or suicide #gender transition #pediatric gender transition #medical experimentation #religion is a mental illness

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odditycircus-2002 · 5 months

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New Era!Shang and Medusa Reader being childhood friends, she meets a young Shang who is struggling on the streets near her village and secretly brings him medicine and supplies, even letting him stay in their homes basement secretly at night so he has a place to rest. He brings her gifts that he has stolen or made her as thanks and feels like he is able to repay for her kindness toward him, especially when her status goes up as she learns magic and becomes a royal healer, she still takes the time to help him get in a position enough to learn magic and take on a minor healer role alongside her.

Oooh, now this one is interesting as well and filled with possibilities!😁😁😁

Even then, I'd imagine a young Shang Tsung would've been wary if there was a catch to young Y/N's kindness. However, he doesn't say anything and just accepts her assistance and her offer of a place to sleep. Shang Tsung found you a bit odd as you wouldn't speak much, and when you did, you were rather prickly and shrewish. Which only bewildered him more since they seemed to contradict your kind actions. When he first gave you a gift he "bought", that was the first time he saw you genuinely smile. At first, you looked stunned, like a scared goat, as if you didn't know how to process receiving a gift. You then hugged the shorter boy in your arms while thanking him, stunning Shang Tsung in return. After this, Shang Tsung would bring you gifts by the end of the day when he comes to rest in your basement. Always, you'd thank him and reward him with an embrace. Once, when he brought you something he made himself, you gave him a peck on the cheek. Shang Tsung silently vowed to himself that he would make you his, and always make you happy.

Consider that Shang Tsung can receive a minor healer role alongside Medusa!Reader thanks to his experience with occasionally helping Y/N when she was younger. Whether that's as an extra pair of hands to hold more herbs while restocking her father's supplies or helping her haul out a corpse from the Burn Pit during the dead of night to get to the root of what's causing the illness plaguing their canton. It didn't matter to him that sometimes he would have to hide under corpses with you. Especially when your work is recognized by the new Rulers of Outworld themselves, and you happily come sprinting up to him to tell him that you've been accepted into the Imperial Academy for Healers!

While it saddened him to learn he couldn't come study alongside you, he was happy for you nonetheless. Yet, you didn't forget your old childhood friend when you became a royal healer. After graduating with honors, you took it upon yourself to teach Shang Tsung what you learned. You figured, given he spent his time helping your father run your family's Apothecary, he already has a good start. Yet, you didn't know about his shady side hustle of selling fake cures and miracles.

#mortal kombat #shang tsung #mortal kombat 1 #oddball speaks #ask answered #anon ask

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chaotic-plotter · 8 months

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XII - What headcanon do you have that you've never shared, and probably couldn't explain if you tried?

It's a hard one, but I love an inexplicable detail.

damn, i wish i had better answers for these! well, idk if these are headcanons in the purest senses of the word, but they are my twists on existing information or things i've thought up to explain gaps.

hannibal: that hannibal was not alana's advisor, because that makes no sense for a variety of "how medicine works" reasons, but that he was going back for his psych residency and he was her senior resident, meaning he was finishing up his residency and mentoring/leading newer residents. it's not that i couldn't explain this one, it's that it's very tedious. the only problem with this is that based on my "how the fuck is hannibal" timeline, they would have only been friends for about 5 years and alana would be just out of her residency, which doesn't track.

see, when i start to try to explain it, it gets tedious.

will: will's path from leaving the police force (which, do we know from canon that he was a cop in New Orleans, or is that just a deeply-accepted bit of fanon?) to his monograph to teaching profiling at the fbi academy is wild to think about. i like to think between writing the monograph (which means studying bugs, publishing bugs, and getting an MS) and teaching at the fbi, something happened re: will's empathy to attract the eyes of the psychiatric community. i think this is where he met alana and that's how i think he side-stepped into the fbi job, because my man did that without a phd and......

here i go, trying to explain again 😂

thanks for asking <3

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starsnheroes · 6 months

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star trek timeline / linda carter

STAR TREK (AOS) VERSE // Dr. Linda Jane Carter, cardiothoracic doctor aboard the USS Enterprise

Linda is single shipped with @thefleetsfinest and Mel's Leonard Mccoy is the only Leonard that I will write with as her Leonard is always canon to my Linda (on my side of things only) ( I adore ya bestie💙 )

✮⋆˙ -> 2219 (birth) -> Linda Jane Carter was born to the famous cardiologist Doctor Richard Carter and novelist Doreen Carter on the Starbase 515. Dr. Richard Carter had formerly been Starfleet and settled on base to have his family and continue practicing medicine.

✮⋆˙ -> 2225 (age 6) -> From as early as the age of six, Linda knew that he wanted to help people like her father and his friends did. It would be her mother, Doreen and supported by her father, that would suggest she grow up to be a nurse. The Carter family would set Linda on a course of caring for highly for her academics so that she could start on that path early.

✮⋆˙ -> 2229 (age 10) -> Linda's younger brother, Taggart Finnegan Carter, was born. It was with the arrival of her baby brother, Tag, that Linda understood she had a duty as a big sister and take care of him. Years later, Tag would admit that his older sister took more care of him than either parents did (and that is not say that the Carters didn't love their children and raise them well).

✮⋆˙ -> 2232 (age 13) -> Doctor Richard Carter would go on to teach medicine and cardiology within the various teaching schools upon Starbase 515 attached to this bases extensive medical facilities and network.

✮⋆˙ -> 2236 (age 17) -> Linda was on track to graduate high school early at age seventeen, to be on track for undergrad and medical school. She had intention of going on to becoming a nurse, but a medical emergency with Tag, age seven, that would involve young Tag requiring open heart surgery would change Linda's course of where she would go with medicine. While her father may be a cardiologist, she would seek being a surgeon specialized in cardiothoracic surgery. What better way to ensure that you understood what happened with your brother and his surgery, than to dedicate your life to studying that so it wouldn't be so scary for yourself and maybe help others not find it scary other?

✮⋆˙ -> 2240 (age 21) -> Linda Carter would complete four years of undergrad, to achieve her bachelors while still on base, and carry on to medical school while still on Starbase 515

✮⋆˙ -> 2242 (age 23) -> Linda would meet and briefly date doctor Steve Stuart, the relationship would not last for more than a few months

✮⋆˙ -> 2244 (age 25) -> Linda Carter would graduate after four years of medical school, than carry on to a residency of six years integrated cardiothoracic surgery residency.

✮⋆˙ -> 2246 (age 27) -> Linda would meet visiting Starfleet doctor, Jack Tryon, while his ship was dry docked on Starbase 515 for three months, and would have a whirlwind relationship for those three months.

✮⋆˙ -> 2250 (age 31) -> Having spent all of her life and schooling on Starbase 515, and at the tail end of her residency. She was looking for change, to leave home and the shadow she felt she was under with her father's legacy, to which she started looking at the Federation and Starfleet starships that would dock at the Starbase. This would lead her to applying to Starfleet Academy and moving to Earth, for the first time, to attend the Academy in San Francisco. Her brother Tag would greatly encourage this and push her to go live her life helping others across the universe.

✮⋆˙ -> It was at Starfleet Academy that Linda would meet Georgia Jenkins, who would quickly become her closest and best friend.

✮⋆˙ -> Later in the year, she would meet Doctor Stephen Strange, a surgeon.

✮⋆˙ -> 2251 (age 32) -> Linda would officially be an in relationship with Stephen Strange.

✮⋆˙ -> 2253 (age 34) -> Prior to starting her fourth and finale year at the academy, she and Stephen would end their relationship after being met with Stephen's wife Clea, who he had made no mention of being estranged/separated from. Clea had returned to rekindle things with Stephen. Linda would also discover that Stephen had been unfaithful throughout his relationship with Linda.

✮⋆˙ -> 2254 (age 35) -> Linda would graduate Starfleet Academy, specifically in the Medical branch, and would be assigned to three year assignment upon a hospital ship.

✮⋆˙ -> The hospital ship would be USS Solace, accompanied with her friend, Georgie whom was a nurse.

✮⋆˙ -> Upon boarding the Solace, Linda would meet Doctor Marshall Michelis, viral outbreak researcher.

✮⋆˙ -> 2255 (age 36) -> Linda and Marshall would enter into a relationship, with support from her friend Georgie.

✮⋆˙ -> 2257 (age 38) -> Georgie would fall ill from the same virus that the Solace had been sent to an outer planet to provide medical aid and develop a cure for.

✮⋆˙ -> Marshall and Linda would get into a large fight the day Linda finds out about Georgie having fallen ill, as she will skip a promised night off/date; this was suppose to be their engagement

✮⋆˙ -> Linda would go to Georgie who would encourage Linda to make up with Marshall and get engaged to him, which she would make up with him

✮⋆˙ -> Georgie would pass away from the virus, devastating Linda

✮⋆˙ -> 2258 (age 39) -> The Solace's assignment would drag on an extra six month as a result of a responding to emergency distress signal on return to Earth

✮⋆˙ -> This would land Linda back at Starfleet Headquarters at the time of Nero's attack, and after Nero's attack would lead to Linda's next assignment / transfer onto the USS Enterprise.

✮⋆˙ -> A week before Linda and Marshall would be boarding the Enterprise, Marshall would call off going and Linda ended their engagement, going forward with her new assignment to the Enterprise

✮⋆˙ -> Here is where Linda would met Leonard Mccoy for the first time as her CMO, and the two would hit it off and become fast friends.

✮⋆˙ -> 2259 (age 40) -> The Enterprise would be sent to apprehend the Fugitive Khan

✮⋆˙ -> Leonard Mccoy would relapse with alcohol after Kirk's almost death, and Linda would be the one to find her now-dear friend and help him get back on his feet

✮⋆˙ -> Before the Enterprise and crew would embark on the five year mission, Linda would accept invitation to spend time with Leonard Mccoy, Clint Barton, and Peter Parker at the Mccoy family farm in Georgia.

✮⋆˙ -> 2260 (age 41) -> The Enterprise would have begun the five year mission

✮⋆˙ -> Late into the year, Linda would be critically injured while on a First Contact away mission, as the result of the entire enterprise away crew being used as a distraction for ensuing chaos on a planet of telepaths in the middle of a political coup (the enterprise did not know this at the time)

✮⋆˙ -> While on the mend, Leonard and Linda would confess and discuss their feelings that have developed beyond their friendship in the last two years

✮⋆˙ -> 2261 (age 42) & 2262 (age 43) -> Linda and Leonard will have officially been dating, and some time in these two years the Enterprise would dock at Starbase 515, and Leonard would meet the Carter family in person; which includes her father, renown doctor Richard Carter, her mother novelist Doreen Carter, her brother Taggart with his wife Becca and their three daughers (Imogen, Sydney, and Laurel)

✮⋆˙ -> 2263 (age 44) -> The Enterprise would be stationing in Yorktown

✮⋆˙ -> While in Yorktown, Linda was intended to be joining Leonard in getting family time in with the Mccoys, but they barely got an hour worth before the ship and crew were summoned on a critical mission

✮⋆˙ -> The ship would crash on the planet Altamid after an attack by Krall's bees. Despite odds and what's left of the crew, they manage to escape the planet and stop Krall's attack on Yorktown.

✮⋆˙ -> Linda would accompany Leonard wherever he may go, while they await for the Enterprise to be rebuilt in. During this time, they would discuss and workout the details over bringing Jojo aboard with them

✮⋆˙ -> Leonard Mccoy would propose to Linda a month before they were boarding the new Enterprise; to which Linda very happily accepts

✮⋆˙ -> 2264 (age 45) -> Leonard and Linda would be married, after some coordination to gather their families as best as possible, and would be married by Captain Kirk as their officiant and Leonard's best friend.

✮⋆˙ -> Leonard and Linda would begun discussing, possibly adding one more to their little family, which currently of Leonard, Linda, and Jojo; and they would agree to trying for a baby

✮⋆˙ -> 2266 (age 47) -> Linda and Leonard would eventually be successful in trying, and have a baby boy named David Taggart Mccoy together.

#verse; linda carter; to heal across the stars (thefleetsfinest)#about; linda carter #about; blog canon #about; verses #ships; thefleetsfinest; breathe in and come close and feel this and feel me and feel it all (Len and Lin)#thefleetsfinest #linda carter; thefleetsfinest

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aikoiya · 1 year

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Arcane Writing Prompt - Viktor With Counselor's Daughter F!Reader

For anyone who wants to give this a shot.

Viktor with a daughter of a Councelman fem!s/o from Piltover who he'd met as kids. She's secretly a magicborn on her mother's side with healing magic, but no one knows this, not even herself as her parents have kept this from her.

When her magical reserves are full, her magic gives her auto-healing, auto-regenerative, & auto-detoxifying abilities as well as a boosted immune system (she calls it her magical self-recovery), but the worse the damage, the slower the process of recovery.

Depending on the sort of food she consumes, she can heal certain things faster. So, once she's learned of her magic, she begins to study nutritional gastronomy in order to optimize the healing process. Things like drinking 3-bone tea (nettle, comfrey, & boneset) or bone broth when she has a broken bone.

But, she isn't really aware of any of this in the beginning. Though, she becomes suspicious once she begins studying medicine, but she has nothing to confirm it.

Anyway, she'd run off from her caretaker as a little girl, getting lost in the Undercity. She lived there for a week, essentially homeless, until she met Viktor who took her home to meet his mother. She lived with them for a month, becoming best friends with Viktor & Rio. Accompanying him to visit Singed & helping him with his gadgets.

Then, one day, the Enforcers found her & ripped her away from Viktor.

She cried for weeks because he was her only real friend.

Having learned what it was like living in the Fissures, she grew up to study medicine, biology, pediatrics, pharmacology, biochemistry, bioengineering, neurology, psychiatry, anatomy, biophysics (the field that applies the theories & methods of physics to understand how biological systems work), biomechanics (the study of the structure, function & motion of the mechanical aspects of biological systems), & biomedical engineering (which is the study of building prosthetics & other machines to advance healthcare treatment), in an attempt to someday help the Undercity residents have better healthcare, hopefully to find a cure for the Zaun Grey & to also hopefully build a better brace for Viktor so that he'll no longer need a cane, because she knows how much he hated that thing.

Is considered a genius of medicine & biology.

With musicology on the side just for fun because she loves music.

Even becoming something of a Zaun Independence Advocate & supporter of the Children of Zaun, starting up a charity with food & clothes drives as well as collecting learning material to be brought to the Fissurefolk. Has met Vander many times as he's usually the one who distributes the things she brings. They get on very well & he's always sure to show her his gratitude. Cried when she learned about Vander's death as he'd been a good friend to her & honestly more of a father figure than her own father had been. Got on well with his kids & Ekko, but only because they didn't know she was a Piltie at that time. Later becomes a trusted (secret) ally of the Firelights as she provides them with medical assistance, food, clothes, learning materials, medical supplies, & teaches whoever is willing to listen, first aid.

She is considered quite odd amongst the Piltover elite. An outcast. Think Belle from Beauty & the Beast. Her parents outwardly behave as though she were a disappointment while inwardly being somewhat secretly proud of her.

Then, one day in the Academy, she stumbles into a lanky man with a cane & very familiar dayglow eyes.

She's there when Viktor & Jayce make the breakthrough on HexTech.

See's incredible potential in HexTech for medicine, specifically in the realm of biomedical engineering & the construction of more effective medical machines which results in the invention of chemical centrifuges, x-ray machines, catscan machines, & other such devices.

Once HexTech kicks off, she & Viktor build a Susurrecorder, which is a HexTech device that produces sounds at a frequency of 25 to 150 Hertz to mimic a cat's purr, which she discovered is a frequency which aids in bone repair & healing. This, when put together with the Hex Crystal powering it, simulates low-level, gentle sound-based healing magic that gives listeners low-level health regen.

It was a success & is now used in Piltovan hospitals to aid in recovery.

She also discovered Alpha Waves, Beta Waves, & Delta Paterns. Alpha Waves peak around 10Hz. Good healthy alpha production promotes mental resourcefulness, aids in the ability to mentally coordinate. Beta Waves are the fastest frequency of brainwaves (13-40 Hz). They are responsible for focus, concentration & analytical thinking. Binaural beats in the Delta Pattern operate at a frequency of 0.5–4 Hz with links to a dreamless sleep. Meanwhile, 432 Hz frequency is ideal for use as a sleep aid as it is known for its relaxing, calming effects.

Later models of the Susurrecorder are built with a knob allowing users to switch between the Healing Frequency, a mix of Alpha & Beta Waves called Brain Beats, & a mix of Delta Patterns & the 432 Hz frequency called Sleep Tunes.

An even later model built specifically for hospital patients has the Healing Frequency with a switch to turn on Sleep Tunes so that both can be on at once to both aid in sleep while still allowing for increased healing.

Is Viktor's primary doctor when he gets ill (I hc that it's either Leukemia or Tuberculosis) which complicates things because doctors aren't allowed to be in relationships with their patients.

Maybe she also already had a crush on him to begin with, but didn't go for it because of the whole doctor/patient thing & if they got together before he was cured, she'd be forced to stop being his doctor & he might not ever get cured because of it? Maybe Viktor's the one to instigate, but it was while she was his doctor & she only turned him down because of the doctor/patient thing, but not long after curing him, she approaches him because, now, she's no longer his doctor.

She also makes the best & most effective medicines & half her stock goes to Zaun for dirt cheap while the other half goes to Piltover for higher than typical to compensate. It's only because her medicine is so effective that people in Piltover keep using her medicine.

She's planning to move to Zaun to start an independent practice to provide better Healthcare for the city.

Arcane Masterlist

#arcane #league of legend #female reader #viktor #viktor x reader #doctor reader #hextech founder reader #heiress reader #writing prompt

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cup-of-blue-rose-tea · 2 years

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"The stars are enchanting tonight , would you like to go stargazing with me?"

(Template by @unfinished-projects-galore )

Name :Orion Vasileois

Unique Magic : Verses of Gold

Using the amount of words spoken to him that day , Verses of Gold converts them into golden strings , which can be used to track down , restrain or cut someone and something . It outputs a small amount of electricity whenever used .

Orion mainly uses it to find troublemakers and to track his missing things.

Twisted from the Trident and King Triton of The Little Mermaid

A third year student at Royal Sword Academy , Orion is known as a handyman around school . Mostly for his quick thinking and his magical capabilities , he has made a name for himself for being the reliable senior young students go to for help or advice .

Orion is often seen around the youngest prince of the Atlantica Royal Family , Rielle ; whether it was keeping Rielle from doing dangerous stunts or teaching him about the surface world , the pair is a sight that most RSA students is familiar with .

Personality

When you first meet him , Orion doesn't stand out from the crowd too much . much like most RSA students , he's well-mannered and kind . His personality becomes much more obvious once you've interact with him a couple more times , you'll find that Orion is more passive than most , but that doesn't make him a coward ; instead he'll passive-aggressively shade your mother , your father , your dog , your cat , your friends and the family cow for your education before he even swears at you .

Despite being a popular figure at school , Orion is an enigma . He's quite open with people , yet no one gets close enough to him to truly see what's underneath the princely student.

With close friends , you can notice a small shift in personality ,Orion is a lot cheekier and slyer . He often teases those he considers friends and shower them in embarrassing compliments .

But when he's finally alone , he's actually quite pessimistic and tired most of the time . He means well for the people he cares about , but honestly he's just really tired . Won't you let him rest for a while?

Backstory - A soliloquy between the waves

Orion grew up in a seaside village , with his mother and father . His father was always busy with work and rarely visited his own family and his mother was a rather frail woman who got ill a little too often .

Orion took up the mantle of his mother when she became bedridden due to a rare illness , he did most of the housework and cooking all while taking care of his mother. His father would always return home late anyways .

His magic developed quicker than the average magic wielder , he gained a proficiency for water magic . Since he lived close by the seashore , when he had the extra time , he would go to the shore and learn a bit of tricks with the help of the mermaids that frequent the area .

When his mother slowly started to recover , Orion started to help out around the village as well . He was a scrawny kid , but he had the aptitude with magic , so he found a way to assist the village even if he's rather small .

However , one thing he overlooked was that his output of magic was at an alarming rate , and he didn't have access to a mage stone . Blot was quickly building up in his body , and he didn't even know .

It was inevitable that an overblot would happen , and Orion just happened to be tiptoeing that line .

The tipping point was the night his father returned home drunk out of his mind , Orion had barely seen the man for most of his childhood . And one of the few times they actually got to see each other face to face was a trainwreck .

Mr. Vasileios was a loud drunk , not a particularly harmful one , just one that gets on people's nerves . And on the receiving end of Mr.Vasileios' rants and rambling was Orion .

Orion already had a bad image of his own father built up in his head , for the times where he had sat the dinner table alone , the times he had to remind his mother to take her medicine , the times he waited until midnight to maybe get a moment with his father .

The inkpot was broken , and Orion was drenched in ink and blot . A towering figure holding a golden trident was attached to him , all that pent up rage , stress and excessive magic usage had finally caused him to overblot .

It was not a pretty sight , the fight lasted for almost an hour . Government forces had been called in after a call from a fearful Mr. Vasileios . And luckily , Orion was still alive and well after the incident , but due to an aftereffect , his nails are now a permanent black colour .

And unfortunately , even though the person himself made it out of the situation alive , Mrs Vasileios had passed away due to shock .

Orion has now since buried the incident in the back of his head , his precious mother had died because of him . And yet the cause of the incident still lives .

His relationship with his father has only gotten more strained as time went on . Orion continued to do the housework and cook for the two of them , but the two rarely see each other anymore . They were barely even a family at that point .

Orion rarely speaks of his own past , and every time it gets brought up , he either leaves the discussion or changes the topic . The very mention of his past leaves a sour taste in his mouth and he is still very much haunted by it , even in his sleep he cannot run away from it .

Even though he had already overblotted once , it's still very possible for it to happen again . Would Orion be able to face himself if it came to be ?

Trivia

-Orion's name takes inspiration from Greek mythology , as Orion and Triton re both sons of Poseidon

-Vasileios means kingly or royalty in Greek

-large inspiration of Orion's character is twisted from the concept of plated gold , as the trident is a golden colour

-Orion is part merfolk on his father's side , but he doesn't gain any perks or quirks from it , so he claims he's a human

-Orion is quite fond of the forest area , often hiding there whenever he wants to be alone

-Orion knows of Rook due to two communicating lots on online forums

-he has a disdain for sweets , often finding them hard to swallow

-his UM is mainly used to restrain others even though Orion hates to admit it

-the accessories on his waist were all gifts from other students

-he does taxidermy on the side as a way to earn extra cash while at school

-he's a decent chef but a horrible baker

-he uses fruity perfumes , as the smell of fish and sweat is often still prevalent in his clothes even after a wash

-he wears red eye makeup as a way to get people to focus on his eyes when talking to him

-he wears lipstick occasionally but not in the presence of many people

{If you've read this far , thank you for your time . And yes , this is a rework of Orion's previous profile}

#twst oc #twst #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland oc #twisted wonderland original character #my art #Orion Vasileios #god the amount of technical issues are unreal #also Orion is open for interactions #I would love to chat with more people and get to know more ocs #also I really hope I didn't make much typos

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highwaytothedangerzone502 · 1 year

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Ghost Story - Chapter 11

Pairing: Rooster x Female OC

Word Count: 2751

Warnings: None

Summary: No one will miss a ghost. It'd been a running joke for as long as anyone could remember, something Ghost herself started, and she always said it with a smile on her face or with mirth in her voice. The untouchable stealth pilot in every sense of the word, no one could've predicted the depth of her turmoil over recent events, nor the extremes she would go to in order to protect the man she loved, not even those closest to her. Now, all that was left of the young aviator for Maverick, Hangman, and Rooster were the memories of the past, which would slowly fade with time. She'd come into their lives and made an unforgettable impression, and then, like a ghost, she was gone... Then again, ghosts can't die a second time.

Notes: The chapters/parts in italics are flashbacks. Also, I know I used Melissa Benoist as Juliette in India Lima Yankee but I really love her as an actress okay...

Chapter Songs: Slow Ride Enchanted

****

Ghost

A week's worth of rest, medicine, and exercise did wonders for Ghost's injuries, and by the time New Years' Eve rolled around, she could move without hurting overall. This was great since helping Maverick repair her motorcycle required some lifting and contortion of the body to reach specific spots. Ghost's gratefulness for Maverick's help exceeded words because just the cost of the replacement parts put a dent in Ghost's paycheck. The labor would've taken up another.

It also allowed her to bond more with the captain, her idol. More than once, she used the knife he gave her to open a package in his presence, and Ghost could tell by the look on his face he hadn't expected her to whip it out like that, let alone to be carrying it on her. Truthfully, the weapon never left Ghost's being. It was always tucked in the back pocket of jeans, inside her boot if the jean pockets weren't deep enough, and if neither sufficed, her bra. Thankfully the padding in it prevented anyone from noticing the weapon stuffed inside. Maverick remained unaware of how much the knife meant to her, and its value to her chiefly originated from the fact that he considered her part of this elite group he'd bonded with, a group no one else could reasonably be considered a part of, yet here she was. More than once, Ghost found herself fiddling with the pocketknife, opening and closing it, fiddling with it while closed, and finding any reason to use it. She loved the color of it, which she learned was called Vantablack, the blackest of blacks. She adored how her name appeared when the blade flipped out and disappeared when she closed it. Most of all, she treasured the sentimentality and thought behind the gift.

"Hand me the wrench, please," Maverick requested, lying on his back to fix something on the underside of the motorcycle. Ghost obeyed. As he worked on it, he asked, "I've been meaning to ask, did your mom ask anything about the pictures you requested of me?"

"Yeah, but I told her that you and Rooster were speaking again, so I wanted to include pictures of you in the book. I haven't told her I've met you yet," Ghost said, checking her phone when it buzzed. A text from Bryn flashed on her screen, showing her excitement for tonight's celebration at the Hard Deck. Ghost ignored it, choosing to respond later.

"How come?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. I have this feeling it'll open a can of worms I don't want to deal with. My instincts tend to be accurate, so I'm going to continue listening to it."

"That's smart. To follow your instincts, I mean. You do that up in the air?"

"Always. What they teach you in class and at Top Gun from the book is a great foundation, but I learned quickly that if you think up there, you're dead. I learned following my instinct always served me better. Drove my superiors and teachers nuts at the Academy, but it got me results, and I could handle any of the reprimanding that came my way."

"Your file did say you were a wildcard," Maverick noted, handing her back the wrench. "You sound like me back in my heyday."

"As if your heyday ever ended. You're still the best naval pilot around."

"In the reserves. If I get called back, you know it's bad," he joked.

"Or someone knows you're the best to have on their team. On a different note, are you going to the Hard Deck tonight?"

"Yeah, I told Penny I'd help out. Not sure how much of a help I'll be behind the counter, but we'll see how it goes."

"I'm sure you'll do brilliantly! If you can fix my bike, you can help Penny."

Maverick smiled appreciatively at her. "Thanks for the vote of confidence, Ghost. Speaking of your bike, want to give it a go? It should work."

The female aviator nodded and straddled the machine, praying it turned on without issue. Much to her relief and excitement, the engine hummed to life, purring smoothly beneath her.

"Give it a whirl around the block, see how it does," Maverick instructed. Ghost eagerly did so, and when she returned, proudly announced it ran like a dream. Maverick beamed. "Glad to hear it! If you ever need help with it again, let me know."

"Thanks, Mav. I really appreciate it. Do you and Penny need help with anything before I go?"

"No, you're all good. I'll see you at the Hard Deck."

Bidding Maverick goodbye, Ghost cheerfully hopped onto her bike and sped onto the road, feeling free and alive and stress-free as the wind enveloped her in its cold embrace. She arrived at her condo too quickly, but it gave her plenty of time to shower and dress for the party at the Hard Deck. She wasn't required to wear color again, thankfully, so Ghost threw on a little black skater dress with her black lace peep toes she wore to the Christmas party. She styled her blonde hair into stunning, perfect waves and wore eyeliner sharp enough to kill a man. She then ordered an Uber and caught a ride to the bar. Upon arrival, she saw a few people lounging around the pool table, but none of the Daggers could be found. Ghost didn't mind, though, because Maverick and Penny were already at the bar, the latter teaching her boyfriend how to pour a pint correctly.

"You're early, Winchester," Penny remarked, sharply attired in a navy blue dress. "Come to watch Maverick struggle?"

Laughing, Ghost said, "No, I can't laugh at the man who fixed my precious bike. Is there anything else you need help setting up with tonight?"

"Actually, yes. I need some more decorations hung from the ceiling above the booths and tables. They're in the box over in the corner."

"Say no more." Ghost grabbed the decorations and set to work, carefully stepping up on the wooden booth and hanging them from the ceiling. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Rooster strut into the bar, wearing his signature Hawaiian shirt and aviators. He stopped at the top of the stairs and surveyed the scene, searching for familiar faces. His eyes landed on Ghost, and he swaggered over to her.

"What the hell are you doing?" Rooster asked, looking up at her and placing a steadying hand on her calf when she swayed backward a little.

"Helping Penny with decorations while she teaches Maverick to bartend," Ghost responded, watching the star she'd just hung up dangle for a moment to ensure it didn't fall before stepping down with the assistance of Rooster. "I have a few more to hang."

"Why don't I do that, and you supervise? I keep thinking you're going to fall, and it's giving me gray hairs."

"I won't say no. I feel like there are eyes on me while I'm putting those up."

"Ghost, you may think you're invisible to a lot of people," Rooster said, placing a hand on the lower part of her back as he leaned in and added, "but you're not invisible to a bunch of creepy old men who are checking you and your long legs out."

"I appreciate the subtle compliment you slid in there."

"Any time." He winked at her, then stepped up into the next booth. Ghost handed him the next star, and the two of them worked side by side, chatting like the old friends they were, neither thinking of the distance that had come between them for the last few weeks. Unfortunately, the universe swiftly decided to remind Ghost about it when she heard Bryn's voice behind her.

"Hey, you two!" The youngest Kazansky girl said with a bright smile.

"Hey!" Rooster replied, jumping down to greet her. "You're early."

"You can blame Tommy for that." Bryn glanced over her shoulder at her older brother, who was blatantly flirting with Halo. "He wanted to get here to see her. Been in love with her ever since Penny's birthday."

Rooster chuckled. "I can see that. You two want something to drink?"

"I could definitely use one. Ghost?"

"Yeah, I'll have one," she said, silently thinking: I have a feeling I'm going to need it. The trio strode to the bar, and Ghost took a seat next to Maverick after ordering. Tilting her head, she remarked, "Shouldn't the bartender be on the other side?"

"Penny decided I was going to be more of a hindrance than a help," Maverick answered sheepishly. "Threatened to have me thrown overboard. Again."

"Do you need help tonight, Penny?" Ghost offered, hoping it'd give her an out from having to hang out with Rooster and Bryn all night.

"No, Jim's on his way," she told the aviator. "Besides, it's New Years'. You're supposed to have fun!"

"It's only fun when you have someone to kiss at midnight, and I don't."

"I think Hangman might be willing to change that," Rooster joked, although his usual humor was lacking when he made the statement.

"I don't think that'd be a smart decision, but then again, who makes bright decisions when they're drunk?"

"I can name a few." Ghost locked eyes with Rooster. While the words sounded innocent enough to a stranger, his insinuation remained unmistakable for Ghost: sleeping with her had been those 'smart' decisions. A bold statement for him to make while standing next to Bryn.

"You'll have to tell me about those sometime," she said, taking a large sip of whiskey. Anxious to drop her gaze from Rooster, Ghost turned her attention back to Maverick. "So, what exactly did you do that made Penny kick you out from behind the bar?"

Rooster and Bryn hung around for a bit, but mercifully, they migrated away to play pool with Fanboy and Bob. Ghost remained at the bar with Maverick and Penny, shooting the breeze with them as the Hard Deck became more and more packed. Claustrophobia started settling in when people swarmed around her and the bar, and she calmly excused herself, escaping to the pool table where the crowd was a little thinner. She stayed on the opposite end from the Rooster and Bryn, but neither seemed to notice her presence, too wrapped up in each other.

"There you are," Hangman said, slipping an arm around her waist and kissing her cheek. "I was about to join you at the bar, but you disappeared."

"It was getting a little crowded over there for me, so I came to join y'all," she replied, leaning into him and enjoying the comfort he provided. Perhaps they were no longer a couple, but Ghost still loved Hangman. She always would. He'd been there for her more than anyone else, including Rooster. Even during their rough patches, he found a way to reach out if he heard something happened to her or her family.

"What's going on with Bradshaw and Kazansky?" Hangman whispered, keeping his mouth right next to her ear so no one could risk overhearing him.

Ghost shifted slightly in front of him so she could tilt her head back onto his shoulder. "You're the best of the best. I think you're smart enough to figure it out."

"You okay with it?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" Ghost countered, unnerved by the fact Hangman knew of her crush on Rooster. She'd never told him, nor had she planned on it. How could he know?

"I've known you for as long as I can remember, and I mean that literally. I can see when you're into a guy."

"You couldn't tell when I was interested in you," Ghost pointed out, hoping the comment would distract him from his line of thought and make him double-guess himself on his assumption about her crush on Rooster.

"Yeah, because I thought you liked Bradshaw at the time."

He's not wrong, but I'm not telling him that. "Why the hell did you think that? We fought the majority of the time for the first year or so that we knew each other."

"Yeah, but something changed between you two on the ski trip, and I didn't like it."

"I know you didn't. We got into an argument about it, remember?"

"Yes, but something great came out of that, so I'm not complaining about it." Hangman wrapped his arms around Ghost's waist, pulling her snugly against his chest. He rested his chin on her shoulder.

"We worked well as a couple back then, didn't we?"

"Yeah, and I daresay we still would."

"Are you trying to hint at something?"

"No, I know better. I know where I stand with you, but that doesn't mean I'm not going to try and get away with things on occasion."

Ghost kissed him on the cheek. "You wouldn't be the Jake I know and love if you didn't."

"What are you two whispering about over here?" Bryn asked, slurring her words a little.

"Oh, nothing, just chatting and trying to hear each other over the ruckus," Ghost said casually, glancing around at the boisterous crowd in the Hard Deck. She briefly glanced at Rooster, who wore a stoic, unreadable expression. His hard gaze, however, made Ghost gulp. Whatever ran through his mind at that moment wasn't good.

"I was about to ask my beautiful partner here for a dance because unless I'm mistaken-" Slow Ride by Foghat started playing over the speakers. Hangman grinned his hundred-watt smile and locked eyes with Rooster. "I love this song."

Grabbing Ghost by the hand, Hangman escorted her away from the group, but not before she saw Rooster's annoyed eyeroll and heard Bryn ask, "What was that about?"

"Don't ask," he muttered.

Ghost didn't have much time to ponder his response because Hangman whisked her into a passionate dance that would've had Ghost blushing had she been sober. Maybe it was the alcohol or perhaps the desire to push Rooster and Bryn out of her mind, but Hangman's lips were looking more and more kissable the longer they danced together. It didn't help that his strong arms kept her flush against his rock-hard, muscular body, sending her buzzed mind back to their earlier years and memories she'd long forgotten.

When the song ended, neither of them parted from their close proximity. Hangman's green eyes bore into hers, an electric charge between them, and had Ghost been a little drunker, she might've fallen for them. Instead, she said, "You're as dangerous on the ground as you are in the air."

He broke out into a grin. "I know."

Ghost's hand reached up and traced his chiseled jawline, a stupid thought rearing in her head. Rooster was taken, and she had no chance of being with him anymore, and here stood a guy before her whom she knew better than anyone and a guy that knew her like the back of his hand. What was stopping her from having a little fun with Hangman again?

"OVERBOARD! OVERBOARD!" The chanting crowd broke the trance between Ghost and Hangman, and they turned to see Coyote and Payback finagling their way to the bar, a red-faced patron glowering at Penny.

"I'm going to help the boys, but I'll be right back. I'll bring drinks too." Hangman pecked her on the cheek. Ghost watched him go, fiddling with the fabric of her dress at what had just transpired between them. She still felt nothing romantic toward Hangman anymore, but she couldn't ignore the fact that she'd been more than a little lustful with how he danced with and treated her. What was stopping her from having a little fun with him? He'd certainly been showing interest in her, she thought, as Ghost watched him carry the irate patron out of the Hard Deck. It's not like she could ever be with Rooster or-

You had to think about him. Ghost silently criticized. Her eyes involuntarily drifted to the pool table where she'd last seen him. Instead of seeing his handsome face, she saw the back of his head with Bryn's hand woven in his thick brown hair, and his lips were on hers. Everyone around them cheered, and the deafening noise barely masked the sound of Ghost's shattering heart.

****

Tags: @supernaturaldawning @shanimallina @polikszena @lgg5989 @callsign-milano @bradshawsandbridgetons @harper1666 @shadeops21 @double-j @copaceticwriter @rotating-obsessions @sharkprestige @thedarkinmansfield @lapilark @mickeyluvs @starshipfantasy @bennypears00 @mandowife221b @the-navistar-carol @getmyprettynameoutofyourmouth @carmellasworld @0hb0llocks @nicangelinee @summ3rlotus

Chapters: Chp 1 Chp 2 Chp 3 Chp 4 Chp 5 Chp 6 Chp 7 Chp 8 Chp 9 Chp 10 Chp 11

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folansstuff · 9 months

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Illyana/Atticus HC's

Peak alt girl/nerdboy couple.

Atticus has seen Illyana’s evolution from ‘clothes given to her by Piotr’, to Mall Goth to her current style.

Similarly Illyana has seen him go from unfashionable nerd to slightly more fashionable nerd.

Atticus has tons of blankets and medicine for when Illyana gets home from a mission. They’ll spend hours patching her up while talking about their days.

Both are big on cuddling. Illyana is the small spoon, Atticus is the big spoon, though Illyana prefers to lie on top of him than cuddle side on.

Atticus’ belly and hair makes him an ideal for cuddling, tbh, which is why Illyana calls him ’Teddy Bear’ all the time.

Atticus calls Illyana “Princess”, both as an occasionally sarcastic nickname, but mostly as a term of endearment. It’s the only word that really demonstrates what he sees in her.

They’re big into kisses too, they’ll take any opportunity to press a quick kiss to a cheek or the top of the head or something.

The two flirt constantly. Seriously they will spend every moment laying praise on each other. Dani and Rahne started keeping a tally for every time they made their eyes roll. This does not stop when they’re on missions.

Atticus can and will remind everyone in earshot that his girlfriend is the strongest sorcerer in the multiverse. He even said this to Doctor Strange once, which was definitely a call.

Illyana will steal Atticus’ hoodies, and has also started stealing sweatpants, anything to have his scent on her.

They will get absolutely blitzed at parties and smother each other in front of other people, even when Atticus pretends to be nervous about it.

Illyana adores all of Atticus’ little projects, she still has the sweater he made her back when they were both on Cyclops’ X-Men team and wears it all the time.

The two do argue decently often, mostly about the dangers of being a mutant and an X-Men and all sorts of other things. When they do get genuinely upset at each other Atticus is usually the first person to apologize, since Illyana is more likely to stew for several days instead of being straightforward.

Cuddles and snacks always follow.

They’ve both learnt to deal with each others quirks and flaws. Illyana has worked out how to settle Atti’s nerves, and Atticus has become an expert at soothing Illyana’s traumas.

Illyana tried to teach Atticus magic, but never really got anywhere. The guy just wasn’t set up to do all that studying, and he didn’t have her natural affinity for it.

Concert dates are basically the only dates they go on, even in the Krakoan age, and the collection of band memorabilia could fill a closet. Atticus prefers weirder experimental and rock music, and Illyana prefers industrial and punk. The two both love that certain brand of 2000’s rock.

Their first kiss was at an outdoors Strokes concert, which got rained out. But the band kept performing.

Atticus watched Illyana dance her heart out, and swept her up into a kiss. Only for him to slip on some mud and collapse onto the ground.

She never lets him forget it.

Used to skip classes at Xavier’s to go hang out, usually at Illyana’s behest.

Illyana would sneak into Atticus’ bedroom when she had nightmares, cuddling up to him and talking through her emotional scars.

The two share teaching tips from their time with Strange Academy and various teaching jobs, and will cover each others classes at Akediemos.

Have developed a routine of sitting on the couch, watching terrible TV and chatting the evening away.

Have become even closer in the Krakoa era, now that they get to share a home and goals all the time.

Illyana is the only person who could convince Atticus to join teams and do superhero work until after the Gala. Even now he stills needs convincing from her to do much of anything.

The two have been together for a very long time, and are basically inseparable at this point. Fuck with their partner and you’re gonna get your ass kicked.

#oc x canon #x-men oc #new mutants #x-men #illyana rasputin #magik #atticus moore #spin #oc headcanons #fanfic #x-men fanfic

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helenadurazzo · 1 year

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The Wanderer

Jacob Thomas Durazzo’s family was full of great, wealthy, and accomplished people, starting off with both sets of his grandparents who are noble families in the Kingdom of Clubs and have had their status for centuries. His father works on maintaining the economy of Clubs while his mother works as a researcher, studying the medicinal properties of plants. His paternal aunt, develops medicine while his paternal uncle trains creatures to help serve in the Clubs military as aids to the soldiers, such as his aunt, who was a top general in the army and would later retire in favor of teaching at the Kingdom’s best academy.

As a member of the upper class society of Clubs and living within the Kingdom’s capital, he, his younger sister Helena, and his cousins often solely interacted with the kids from other rich parents with one example being Alex and Cato Reese who often came to visit him and Helena. Even if school he did not interact with anyone from the lower classes as most of the people who attended the school, were higher up members of society, although there were a few exceptions. He often enjoyed visiting his maternal grandparents, not because he enjoyed their spacious and fancy home, but because he enjoyed observing the farms in the surrounding areas.

His instructors were impressed by his skills and labeled him as a gifted kid, something young Jacob enjoyed at first as it gave him more attention among his peers. However, as he grew up, he goofed off more and started caring less and less about studies, falling particularly behind when it came to mathematics. Suddenly, school, had turned from a fun experience where he could hang out with his friends, to a boring experience where he would just have to wait impatiently for the final bell to ring. In addition, he was never really fond of the idea of going to university because of this, but knew that he had to because of his family’s reputation, although

Alessandro and Olivia would later comfort him when they informed him it didn’t matter what he chose.

At university, he decided to pursue a degree in history as, because of his family members who were historians, it did hold some interest to him. However, all of his instructors were very stiff and no-nonsense, making him dislike it. He tried other activities such as the Abraxan Derby, but quit after one try when he was knocked off his Abraxan and ended up in the hospital due to a broken arm, and as such, has not flown on an Abraxan since. He got extremely bored with being within four walls and longed to explore the natural beauty of the Kingdom of Clubs, as such, he made the decision to drop out of university, choosing to ignore anyone who opposed his decision.

Rivals of his family tried to use the fact that Jacob dropped out of university to give the Durazzo Family a bad light. His maternal grandparents in particular were very disappointed in him and didn’t hide it and often blamed Olivia for influencing him and not stopping him. It was also very shocking as Jacob was set to be the heir of the Durazzo Family and as such, it was expected for him to graduate from university and get a high paying job. However, after dropping out, Jacob worked small side jobs and would assist his mother in traveling on various trails in the Kingdom and gathering her plants to study when she didn’t have time to do so herself

For the most part, Jacob was satisfied with his new found freedom with only have two instances where he doubted his life choices. The first of which was when his sister became one of the King’s advisors, and eventually rose up to be his Jack, the highest position an advisor could get in the Kingdom of Clubs. His sister had always been much more studious than her, so it was not much of a surprise that she got such an impressive job title not too long after her graduation from university. Still, it made him feel like he wasn’t protecting her the way he should have as an older brother, even though she told him not to worry about it as he was happy with his life.

The second was when it came to trying to impress, Angelica Cole, an esteemed Creature Marshall for the Kingdom of Clubs. He had noticed her before but never developed his feelings for her until later (ironically she had a crush on him but grew out of it after Jacob was so oblivious), he worries that, as he is not successful compared to others, she would not even spare him a passing glance. However, he does eventually win her over with time and effort. However, overall, Jacob gained recognition for his discoveries that he made while wandering around the wonderful natural beauty that is the Kingdom of Clubs.

#Jacob Durazzo #hphm cardverse #jacob hphm #hphm #hogwarts mystery #harry potter hogwarts mystery

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vixnovacoda · 1 year

Text

Doctor's Medicine || Chapter 4

Hannibal Lecter x Original Character

Word Count: 2.6k

CW/TW: NSFW 18+, graphic, disturbing content, dissociation, canon-typical violence.

[Chapter 1][Chapter 2][Chapter 3]

[ao3 version here]

“The Ghost Writer.” was the latest topic at a lecture hall within the walls of the FBI Academy. “Sometimes, there will be people who leave no trace. There will be no apparent motive. The answer lies in the details; the victim’s appearance, the body arrangement, and how the mutilation proceeded. All are things this killer kept clean and specific. This is his story,” detailed the brown-haired lecturer. Sleep had not been kind to Will, a fact he tried to obscure. The button-up shirt attire was suitable enough by teaching standards, and his tortoiseshell frames distracted notice from the eye bags that started forming.

It had been these details that Emma had gleamed upon arrival. The case drove hard at all involved.

Avoiding meeting her eyes and Dr. Lecter, who joined Emma, Will carried on with his talk. “A story about obsession. An obsession that he is not alone. The author behind the fictional version of this death helped him realise that. Emma Darcy, finder of the first victim.” Glowering pixels made up for his lack of contact. Pictures depicting the dead doppelgänger, split, dissected, and pieced together next to Emma, whole and alive, looked down upon all those sitting and standing. “The Ghost Writer gave her a gift, inspiration which might cost her life. She is the true intended.” Rigour built Will’s reminder. He didn’t speak to the agents-in-training; he spoke to the living victim, who watched and haunted him. They were each other’s ghosts, stuck by dire circumstances.

Bzzt. Bzzt. And Emma had multiple ghosts.

Through the discerning glance of Dr. Lecter, she reached for her phone, sparing no second. Thoughts raced. It had to be Alex. It had to be her. That alone caused Emma to beam like a wish had come true; hope.

Until it didn’t.

MARCUS: just making sure you’re alright. Let’s meet up later.

A wish was still a wish, some blatant desire for change, an impossible product. Alex would never give her the light of day again after the last time.

———

In another time and place, the phone is dialled and answered.

“Emma?” Alex came through raspy, irregular – a fault of living in a different time zone (USA, East Coast), figured Emma.

“Alex,” said the much more alert Emma. “How’s Johnny and Amy?” Small talk.

“They’re… They’re fine.” Floorboards moaned off from afar.

“That’s good. Hey, I just finished going over the edits you sent over.” Straight to business; that was Emma’s modus operandi. Strewn about sheets covered with red marker splayed about in front of her, she had been in the middle of work when Alex called.

“Oh.”

“There were a few things I thought we should discuss…” Emma thumbed through the mess, searching for a specific set.

“Emma.”

“I really think we should keep in that scene betwe—”

“Emma!”

Empty air whistled. Emma haltered under the moon’s watch. “Alex, what’s wrong?”

“I…” Alex moved the speaker from her face, muttering incoherent blobs, such as ‘why that case?’ and ‘how could you?’ between gasps. Each utterance bleeding from a fresh wound. “I-I can’t do this anymore. Emma, I can’t. I’m sorry.” The phone echoed a long beep.

“Alex?” she called out, but no answer came; the call was over.

Fumbling, she dialled back. Sorry, the number you have called is temporarily unavailable. Please try again later.

… is currently unavailable. Please try again—

… unavailable. Please—

———

Guilt eroded the expression Emma held as reality dowsed her delusions. Latent and dormant became her features. She placed the phone into her handbag, fingers tracing the cap of a plastic medicine bottle, unaware the lecture had reached its conclusion. “Observe everything. What are they trying to tell? What is the story?” told Will Graham as he leant against the desk, everything in his view. From the eager to the meagre, all that left, and all that remained. The lecture hall felt empty without the agents-in-training, and what should have felt like relief instead turned into dread by Emma and Dr. Lecter’s lingering presence as Emma led the charge. “The three of us, all in one room. Feels like the start of a self-help group or an experimental therapy session,” commented Will, adjusting his glasses.

“I catch you at a bad time?” responded Emma carefully, stopping at an appropriate distance.

“Well, it wasn’t a good one,” said he. “It depends on where this conversation goes.”

“The Ghost Writer,” she started.

“A bad time it is, then.” He stretched his back, situating into his position and noted her demeanour. She was ‘calm’ – whatever fear she carried sat far off. The sudden change in character earned a pointed look towards Dr. Lecter as if to say, is this your doing?

“Emma seeks an ending to this killer’s story. Don’t you, Will?” challenged Hannibal. In other unsaid words, yes. He wouldn’t be here otherwise.

The glasses came off. “Why?” Will asked Emma.

“Because.” She shifted, adjusting an invisible weight. “When the killer is found, what I feel will go away,” Emma stated with a hint of that real emotion, dread.

“Neither of you will have to work together again, either. You can return to normal,” said Dr. Lecter, closing the distance between him and his patient, standing one pace ahead of her.

“By diving head first.” Will folded his arms. The idea both intrigued and worried him.

“Sometimes a dive is better than a dip,” began Dr. Lecter. “When done right, it produces desirable results. It is fast. It is forceful. This case is not the sort of thing you approach gently.”

“But done wrong, and it has harsh consequences, Dr. Lecter.”

“Correct.”

“Though, in reality, worse will occur from a dip,” said Emma, her ‘calmness’ swaying back and forth, and the Special Agent swivelled his attention. Neither met eye-to-eye and still, he could feel that fear as if it was his own; it weighed between tolerable and unbearable. She saw his shoulders and the realisation sink, defeated. The longer they took, someone would die. That was a fact, not speculation; they had already taken enough time. “So, what have you found?” she asked, garnering his silence as acceptance to discuss the topic. Emma had known he’d agree because she did. Because it was their character; because it’s his character, Dr. Lecter had informed her. Will Graham’s fault laid in a want to save others. That, Emma learnt, is what the Doctor meant.

“Compared to what we already know? Nothing,” he answered, and reflexively, his hand muscles tensed as she crossed the divide, resting against the desk as he did. The two stood in equal positions. They could talk like this, Hannibal before them, their mediator for eye contact. “The interviews bore no fruit. Has labs?” Will exchanged earnestly.

“Barren. Jane Doe is still Jane Doe. No prints; burnt fingertips. No dental records. No hits.” She sighed; a futile frustration boiled inside the both of them. “You said ‘observe everything’. Those were your words. Have we done that?”

“Multiple times, except…”

The words spilt forth. Thoughts ran freely from Will’s tongue until his convictions got the best of him. Will silenced himself. Torn, he shared a look with Hannibal, a silent conversation. A discussion made up of twisted eyes and a slow nod. Only they knew what remained, and Emma did not. Hannibal could not convey it to her; he had to remain impartial, which gave Will no choice. If they wanted to catch this Ghost Writer, he’d have to do as Jack Crawford did to him; let her go into the deep and trust Hannibal Lecter.

“Except what?” echoed Emma.

Warm air guided itself into Will’s lungs as he shut his eyes before speaking. “Your statement. We never properly went over it.”

“Honestly, I don’t remember much besides what I told you. It’s mostly a blur.” Truly, the most prominent image of all remained the building of the body, every detail: smell, touch and sight. But she couldn’t admit that.

“That’s the issue. A gap, no matter big or small, leads to the possibility of missing something,” explained Will, torso angled to face her.

Emma pushed herself off the desk. “Then what are you proposing?”

“We retrace your steps. Go back to the house,” he said. “We see what memory resurfaces or what detail becomes uncovered.”

The thought of missing something hadn’t crossed her mind. Nor willingly going back to that house. “Will it work?”

“It’s all we have.”

In a simple glance, Emma conferred with Dr. Lecter, he that held more awareness than them; he at the centre of it all. “Your memory is the only variable the killer can’t control,” said he, who remained stoic, though she saw how he favoured the idea, which allowed it to cement further into her mind and take root. Out of options, it made simple sense. The real reason she had driven here, confronting her thoughts up close; this was how the mirror stopped hurting, how she could return to normalcy.

It was decided. Emma couldn’t disagree.

Better to have a quick dive than a long dip.

———

Mid-century architecture slumped within the Maryland woods. Trees gathered around, shaming the home with bristled leaves and tall forms for the committed crime. The house had tarnished the forest’s well-earned peace by way of death. Yellow tape marked the front, flippant and tarnished.

Emma stood at the mouth of it all as the evening christened the horizon. Silence loomed in the air, a chill reminder. Nothing living resided here, not a soul, only death and nature. A brisk breeze nipped at her skin, causing pin-pricks to form as if to warn her of the impending doom ahead.

“You surprise me, Will,” said Hannibal, the gravel driveway crunching under his shoes as he moved beside the profiler. Both a distance away from the distant-minded author.

“Then you surprise me, Dr. Lecter,” retorted Will. Defensive.

“How so?” his sharp face edged slightly into Will’s periphery like a knife cutting through the world.

“Because,” said Will, turning his head towards him, “you knew I’d agree. That’s why you brought her to see me.” Not an inclination of surprise crossed the psychiatrist. Had there really been such, then it must have remained internal. Instead, he smiled. Small and wide. Proud and impressed.

“I can’t take claim for that. That would be an awful thing.” Mistaken, then, was Will as his eyes fleeted onto Emma with a questioning brow. “I am here to help her as I’ve helped you, Will. You needn’t think otherwise,” explained Hannibal. Gravel picked up beneath him once more as he carried on, leaving Will with no time to ponder and no choice but to follow. And like a knife, Doctor Hannibal Lecter proved beneficial when required to get to the thick of something in a single slice. He was clean and precise. But, like a knife, danger remained a possibility.

An always overlooked possibility.

“It’s quiet. Not, however, peaceful,” muttered Emma as her psychiatrist/co-worker/acquaintance came into view. Naturally, Hannibal inclined himself forward. “The scenes back home had a similar stillness. Eerie and off. As if some form of the deceased stained the atmosphere. An echo, we called it. So loud and invisible… I don’t know why I thought it would be different here.”

“Control and deniability,” responded Hannibal, giving her the answer she did not ask for. “We all seek to alter undesirable situations, wishing that what we lived through never occurred, so we may hide behind the truth.

“You’ve done this before. You know what will happen, what to expect. However, this time is different. You are no longer an outsider looking in.” A warning hid amongst gentle words. All eyes were on her; that is what he conveyed. Deniability had no place here.

“So this is how it feels,” Emma mused behind a tightened jaw. Previous victims stood where she did now, alive and dead. Scrutinised under knives and bloodhounds. Pressure built in them, and so too did it in her. “Take us through that afternoon,” spoke Hannibal. ‘Us’, referring to Will, who had caught up.

In turn, Emma flexed her hand. An attempt to cast away the feeling as she recollected. “I pulled up to the driveway, made my way to the door with key in hand and went indoors. Nothing out of the ordinary—”

“What about the present?” interrogated Will, eyes narrowed.

“The present. I…” She shut her eyes to play the memory through a clearer lens. “It rested against the door. I took it inside,” she rectified. A fog rolled in as her vision came back, ready to live out the past reality. A haze only she could see.

She should have been startled when hints of mist covered the ground. She should have shut out the thoughts which followed suit. But: “focus on me, Emma,” said Hannibal calmly, catching her attention instead. His darkened eyes, so full yet so empty, held her aloft. Like this, she could keep going.

Or could she?

Maybe.

Yes, she had to. Right. She had to.

“The details. Focusing on them will help your mind process the event accordingly,” elucidated the psychiatrist, Dr. Lecter. He stood closer now. Closer than she’d normally allow. Yet, she didn’t mind as his words reached her first and foremost, guiding, almost commanding. Just loud enough to break through sense.

Wading and melding with mist, dappled light came through, highlighting the small things as her breathing became focused. With a gloved hand on the door handle, Emma entered the memory. The box felt light when she carried it through, not a hint that it contained half a human body. There wasn’t a decaying smell either. She couldn’t have known at the time when her shoes remained by the door, steps muffled against wooden floorboards, and the package placed perfectly on the kitchen counter what sight hid inside. Nimble fingers pulled apart ribbon and string, blue and brown left stranded atop marble as both hands held the rest. The lid lifted and fell first, landing by the table before the first pieces of flesh flopped in closer succession, marbled muscle against marbled stone.

Flesh, muscle, organ, and bone. Not a part wasted.

A gift. Human sacrifice.

Emma recalled the itch which coursed through her nerves when the pattern pieces stuck to the tiles. Incomplete, requiring to be put together. It was overwhelming. Soft tissue moved in a sequence under her delicate hand. Each piece grasped between tissue paper and spread out along carpet. The kitchen held little space (enough for a person but not enough for this grand gesture). Hence, the living room.

The carpet: a passionate red akin to wine and not blood. Blood never touched it either, only water droplets. Water that failed to dissuade the defrosting puzzle from attaching soft, thin, coiled carpet fibres to the undersides. The fibres: cotton. Old, worn. Emma knelt where she had been that evening, the fibres scratching her trouser-covered legs. An irritating sensation, and it wasn’t until then that a rush overcame her.

The carpet. Scratchy on the surface and on closer inspection, the fibres stood short, wispy and elastic. It wasn’t cotton at all. It was wool. It had been replaced.

Someone had replaced the carpet.

Emma stepped back, her breathing erratic as she eyed the floor for missed details, fingers rubbed together. A vague rectangular outline, the two carpets almost indistinguishable but not for her. The details were off; this was her thing, what she was good at.

Slender fingers peeled at the edges of the rug-sized carpet, tearing and pulling up without a care. Beneath is what mattered. Beneath laid a missing underlay, fresh wood planks and blood. A hard lump formed in her throat. ‘Found me.’ spelt the blood, dried up, having waited for numerous days. Rotten meat and fruit crept through the cracks of the subfloor.

Decay.

Heart pounding, Emma lifted the boards. They came off with ease. No resistance. She had been meant to find this, to reveal what was built between the floor joists.

Her breath hitched. Body stiff, unblinking.

The putrid smell spread, and Hannibal hovered over Emma. He inspected with nonchalance as Will lurched by the threshold, hand searching for the nearest support, gripping the doorframe with rigidity. New images recreated themselves in the FBI’s unstable minds. He saw as she did. He felt what she did, and it felt overwhelming.

A phone dialled. The line answered. “Jack,” started Will, “there’s another body.”

#hannibal #hannibal lecter fanfiction #hannibal x oc #hannibal x original character #hannibal lecter #nbc hannibal #hannibal nbc #fanfic #fanfiction #hannibal fanfic #hannibal fanfiction #original female character #will graham

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lonesilverw0lf · 2 years

Text

Try, Try Again

Just realized I haven’t posted this here while it’s up on my FF and Ao3. Constructive criticism is welcome, and please enjoy.

Death. Destruction. Ruin. Those were the words anybody would describe the world of Remnant right now. Hopeless, distraught, terrified are also good words to describe the populace. Or what was left of them. It all started when Cinder enacted her plan to topple the Four Kingdoms for her ‘Master,’ Salem. After many years of combat, struggle, and sacrifice; she was defeated. This time is called the Collapse, which is essentially what transpired. Now the rest of humanity has been reduced to a sliver of what it was. The Hunstman Academies destroyed, armies devastated, entire cities leveled, connections and ties between what was left of the nations shattered beyond repair. Those that remained tried to rebuild, try being the keyword. After the Fall of Vale, or any Kingdom really, the residents tried to rebuild, but the damage to the natural defenses was too much to repair and the negative energy that came with those who entered the cities only served to attract more Grimm.

Some distance away from what’s left of Vale lies a little village called the Edge. Calling it a village is actually generous, it’s more of an outpost or a shantytown really. It’s in the most defensible location they could find, nestled between a pair of mountains. A wall made of stone and steel ran around the perimeter of the settlement with a single gated door, accessible only by a wooden bridge over a moat. Before one could even reach the moat, they had to travel a thin path to avoid the traps, pitfalls, and mines. The crude defenses are slightly aided by an old tank sitting before the door that was decommissioned some time ago, but an enterprising mechanic managed to ‘recommission’ it. Inside the wall is where those ‘lucky’ enough to survive the war reside. The ramshackle of steel and wood houses left little show of skill or comfort. Normally, one would be happy that people of all different races and ages live without fighting each other. In this instance however, where the only other options are coexist or die, is it truly peace?

A large building, larger than what passes as living quarters, is the collective dining/meeting center. Where resources are scarce, necessities such as food, medicine, and other supplies are allocated to specific locations for proper protection, preservation, preparation, and distribution. Inside said building sits a man, waiting patiently for his evening meal. His scraggly beard hasn’t been trimmed in months, his clothes are worn and dirtied, a thick traveling cloak draped over his shoulders, and he looked every bit of the title he carried: the Wanderer. His name has been lost, but he’s known as Stryder: the most dangerous person of the Edge if not the continent. Perhaps, some have whispered, the world.

He was avoided by much of the populace, not that he minded or blamed them. They’re fearful of what he has been said to do and of his feats in the Wild. There are occasional parties that go into the Wild or the various ruins to locate and retrieve provisions, of which he escorted nearly all of them. He also traveled quite often, usually to the other settlements or wandering the Wilds, returning only for a short time. Finding someone with the ability to survive the Wilds was difficult. Someone who could defend themselves - let alone defend others - from the Grimm was an even harder find.

His tenacity, skill, strength, knowledge, flexibility, foresight, luck, and considerable Aura made him the best around. There has yet to be a Grimm that has bested him, and his mere presence seemed to drive many away. Aura is another rarity in this time. Most Huntsmen and those in-training died in the Collapse, and took many teachings with them. The few that survived have taken to pass their knowledge to the next generation in whatever way they can, or defend what’s left to their dying breath.

The Wanderer spoke softly, but never unkindly or rudely. He didn’t take any position of official leadership, but it’s undeniable that he carries more authority than anyone else in these troubled times. He holds no prejudice against the Faunus people, despite the crimes the White Fang committed, knowing that the Fang was manipulated and the rest were casualties of the war. He holds wisdom beyond what is expected, and has been seen consoling and aiding others regularly. He may be considered old in his mid to late 60s, especially in a world where people died young, but he is one of the rare few who remember the time before the Collapse. Most that live today are merely descendants of the survivors. He never speaks of his past, especially the time during the Collapse. He has been a major factor in the continued survival of the people: maintaining order, judging crimes fairly, protecting the caravans, teaching the next generation all he knows. If it weren’t for him, there would probably be no Edge.

Into the building an older man walked. He wore long grey robes topped with a pointed grey hat, his grey beard and grey hair were long on his head, his face and hands were old and etched with age, his grey eyes under his bushy grey eyebrows spoke of experience and wisdom. A long, wooden walking stick with a gnarled, twisted head was the only item he carried. A good word to describe him would be ancient, but Stryder knew better than to judge by appearance. The traveler was receiving some odd, some hostile looks from the other patrons. Trust is hard to come by, and this person is an unknown to them. The newcomer’s eyes scanned the room twice until they landed on the Wanderer. As quick as he could, he made his way over to where the warrior sat.

“Mind if I join you?” was politely asked before seating himself. Stryder didn’t refuse him. He knew the old man wanted something, and if he wanted trouble then he wouldn’t be disappointed. The curious looks soon turned confused at the old man seating himself at a dangerous man’s table.

The two sat in silence for a time: Stryder with his characteristic quiet and the other with a hopeful and happy smile, like he found a long lost friend. There were attempts to restart conversations, but they all fell short at the unusual spectacle in front of them.

Finally, the older man spoke, “How are you this wonderful day, friend?”

“Fine enough I suppose. You?”

“Splendid, just splendid. Judging by the clouds we have a chance of rain tonight. That will do some good for the crops considering the warm days we’ve been having. Hasn’t been this warm this early in the season for a long time. This may mean a long and hot summer. It will be a good time for strengthening the defenses though.”

A slow nod was all was given from the warrior.

“Oh! Forgive me, forgive me, I haven’t introduced myself. I’m Gandalf, Gandalf the Grey.”

“They call me Stryder. To what do I owe this meeting, Gandalf?” Stryder asked, getting down to business.

“I have a plan. A dangerous, risky, and uncertain one, but it will be well worth it. It will take time, patience, skill, and no small amount of luck for it to succeed. I will not lie it will be a gamble, but if it succeeds, it will be of immeasurable benefit of the people of Remnant.”

“An ambitious venture you’re making.” Stryder complimented.

“One might call it a foolish endeavor for even thinking it. In the end, it will minimize or eliminate the damage done by Cinder.”

A shudder ran through those gathered and the temperature dropped several degrees. It’s considered taboo to speak of those who brought about the Collapse, even though many weren’t even born at the time. This was another thing that separated Stryder from the rest; he has no reservations speaking their very names, foregoing their ‘softer’ titles altogether.

“Cinder fancied herself to be the Queen on the board, but Salem was the one directing the moves. She herself was the King on her side, and the rest were just chess pieces. Each had their uses, but were ultimately expendable.” Wanderer countered.

“Yes. Humanities enemies, though dispensable, were still a threat. Remember the damage that Dr. Watt caused with one program, or those who fell to Tyrian’s sting, a-” he was cut off by Stryder.

“I know all too well what they were capable of.” An edge crept into Stryder’s voice for a moment before returning to his natural calm.

“You want to reverse the effects of the Collapse, but how? We’re in a state worse than the Dark Ages. Restoring the world will take the efforts of the whole world and the time, effort, materials, and manpower to rebuild to a fragment of what we used to be. The CCT towers have all been destroyed, so communications are incredibly difficult locally and no one has had word of anyone in the other Kingdoms in over a decade. Resources are scarce as it is, how are you planning on providing those? The Schnee Dust mines were all destroyed, and those that they didn’t own were lost to us. What little Dust that remains is regulated to emergency generators and village defenses. Most everything is Dust powered, and despite the efforts to find an alternative fuel, there are no working models available since the Fall of Atlas.

“We can hunt and grow food, we’ve done it for years. There may be some salvageable farms in the Ruins of Vale that we could use, but how will we tend to them? They will need people there to maintain them, and the Edge is barely holding on as it is. Manpower? All those here and the neighboring villages are all that we could gather from, well anywhere really, even the roving bandit clans smart enough to join and we only number into a few hundred. Those that know about the necessary things to rebuild are either too old or dead. The knowledge needed for large scale projects was in one of the Great Libraries, and Salem made sure that those were destroyed too. We will need to start from the ground up for that.

“Government will need to be reinstalled, and as good of a job the Mayors have done keeping a semblance of order, they can hardly stand each other as it is. A consistent direction is needed and are all trying to go their own ways of leadership. Let’s not forget our biggest enemies now: the Grimm. Even with Salem gone, the Grimm remain a problem. They won’t stand aside as we rebuild ourselves. As valiant as the defenders can be, they will fall if the Grimm decide to mount a serious assault. They’re soulless, not brainless.

“Even if things did go smoothly, it will take centuries. I don’t know about you, but I don’t see myself living that long. So much can change in a few months, let alone a decade. We may not fight openly now, but the wounds borne by the Humans and Faunus from the pointless race wars still exist. It may take just one too many words and we could be at war again and undo everything. I try to teach all I can that we are all the same underneath, but most refuse to listen. I don’t see any way to remove the mark that Salem has made on the world, only to rebuild what we can.”

“It’s as you say. I have many things in line, but I’m in need of a more specific kind of help. For that I wish to enlist the aid of Beacon’s finest Huntsmen.” Gandalf said without a hint of doubt and looking Stryder straight in the eye.

A hush fell over the crowd. It quickly gave way to murmurs. A Huntsman? One of the finest warriors in the world? From Beacon? They were the greatest threat to the Grimm and peacekeepers before the Collapse, but where did this old man think that he was going to find one? Did the Wanderer know where to find one?

Stryder could only stare at Gandalf after his statement. Following a long moment he only closed his eyes and shook his head ruefully. Then, a small smile formed on his face. A soft snicker escaped his throat. Then a chuckle, silencing the crowd yet again. He broke into a soft laughter, which only grew louder. Stryder laughed so hard he had tears falling down his face. He was laughing like Gandalf had told the world’s funniest joke. It was hurting his sides and lungs so much he had to clutch them. He started rocking back and forth uncontrollably; if he wasn’t sitting down he would’ve fallen over.

After a few minutes he finally started coughing. Gaining some self-control, he leaned over the side of the table to cough like he had a bad cold. After a few moments of coughing he went right back to howling, banging his fist on the table as he did. A few more minutes passed before he had to stop to catch his breath, which took a while since he would try to go back to laughter again.

Finally catching his breath and gaining enough self-control he pulled himself up to speak to Gandalf again, who was the only one in the immediate vicinity unaffected by this outburst. The others have never heard the Wanderer give more than a polite chuckle, it was honestly scaring them. Stryder looked Gandalf dead in the eye, all merriment gone and his voice took a rare, serious, very angry tone.

“Beacon’s Finest. Let me tell you something about Beacon’s Finest: they’re not here. You missed them. Come back about 50 years ago, and you might find a few. But they weren’t the finest. The finest were all fighting Salem, even if they didn’t know it. I can’t tell you how many died at the end not knowing who their real enemy was. Those that did know and could still fight were all there the day she fell. Not one of them walked away from that battle either.

“Let me tell you a bit on what you missed. Team SSSN from Minstral, some of the coolest dudes out there. All the guys wanted to be them and all the ladies wanted to date them. Team NDGO of Vacuo, same story as Team SSSN only in reverse as they’re ladies. Team FNKI from Atlas, plenty weird at first but they knew how to work it and threw some killer parties. Team ABRN from- Oh, but I’m getting off course! You wanted Beacon’s finest, not just another amazing team from another country. OK, here we go…”

Pulling out a smooth stone from his pocket, with the Nordic runes of Warrior and Protection engraved on the surface, he set it on the table. “Nora Valkyrie, Electric Bomber of Team JNPR. She swung a giant hammer, launched grenades, terrorized Grimm, and demolished pancakes with a smile. She never let anything get to her. Even after losing her home twice, forced into sheer survival, lost many of her friends, she never lost her famous smile.”

He then pulls out a dagger with a black blade and a red handle and lays it next to the Runestone. “Lie Ren, the Hidden Dragon of Team JNPR. Ironically, also the calm of the storm. The only one who could keep up with Nora, and they were like two peas in a pod despite as different as the sun and moon. He and Nora have been through everything together, and stuck it out through bad and worse. Nora always said they weren’t ‘together-together,’ but the way they held each other at the end said otherwise.”

After taking off his left bracer he rolls up his sleeve, revealing a black ribbon wrapped around his forearm. “Blake Belladona, the Midnight Watcher of Team RWBY. The best spy there was, an avid reader of certain material, and could devour a bowl full of tuna faster than you could pour yourself a drink. She carried the weight of years of mistakes, carrying out the will of the White Fang in their early worse years. She was young, a bit naïve, but genuinely wanted to make a difference for Faunus. When she saw that they were only making things worse, she made the bravest decision and left. She went to Beacon to walk a more difficult road to equality, to repent for her mistakes. All she wanted was a place where people could be who they were without persecution, but the flames that fueled the Fang were also the ones that consumed them.”

A lock of golden hair trapped in resin was shown next. “Yang Xiao Long, the Golden Brawler of Team RWBY. Loud, proud, rambunctious, with puns and insinuations instead of conversation. She may have been an unrepentant flirt and a bit of a hothead, but she knew her worth and wouldn’t let anyone say otherwise. After Raven left her and Summer died, she took on the role of the family matriarch. She took care of Ruby and her friends the best she could, even when she herself needed someone to look out for her. She would’ve made an excellent mother, if her plane wasn’t shot down.”

He pulls out a necklace from under his shirt, revealing the Schnee family emblem. He lays it next to the rest. “Weiss Schnee, the Ice Queen of Team RWBY. Skilled fencer and the best at Dust in any capacity. The name itself is a misnomer, but she never grew out of it. She was an absolute brat in the beginning, spoiled and stuck up being a Schnee, but she quickly grew out of that and became a loyal and dedicated friend. Grew up with a controlling hard-ass father with a minor God-complex and some serious Faunus prejudice, no wonder she went to Beacon to get away from that toxicity. If she had the chance, she would’ve pulled her family’s Dust Company out of the muck that her father had buried it in and made some serious progress in the world. Her own family made sure she wouldn’t have that chance.”

Reaching behind his breastplate, he pulls out an emblem of a rose and sets it in the middle of the others. “Ruby Rose, the Prodigy and leader of Team RWBY. Spunky, cute, innocent, you’d never think of her as a Huntress, underestimate her and pay for it. Got into Beacon two years early out of sheer skill and spunk, and always stood with the best of them. By the way she spun her scythe around you’d think she was the incarnation of death itself. All she wanted to be was a Huntress to help people, like her mother. She often felt out of place, but she always gave it her all. She always looked for the best in others, even if wasn’t there. She was the one who finished Salem at the end, and paid with her life to do it.”

Standing up he sweeps back his travelers cloak, revealing the sword he always carried with him. Unclipping it from his belt, he sets it up on the table and activates the device to transform the sheath into a shield. Pointing to the golden design toward the base he continues, “Phyrra Nikos, the Spartan Warrior of Team JNPR. The best partner anyone could ask for. As capable as she was beautiful. An incredible warrior who was humble and polite to a fault. She may have been 4 time winner of some bigtime Minstralian tournament, but she never let it get to her head. She was lonely, sitting up on that pedestal for so long; all she wanted was a friend. She got her friends, even if they didn’t deserve her. She died for them by trying to stop Cinder during the Fall of Vale.”

“Those were Beacon’s Finest. This is all that is left of them. They gave everything to end something that should never have begun. Your search is in vain, old man.” The Wanderer finally finished, his glare never leaving Gandalf.

“Such a shame. Such wonderful lights, snuffed out before they could properly shine. Their aid would be greatly appreciated.”

“Your condolences mean nothing to the dead.” Stryder growled out before setting the sword to the side of the table and sitting down again.

“What about the last one?” Gandalf enquired with a curious voice.

“Who?” The Wanderer asked with an unspoken warning.

“The Knight of Team JNPR.” Gandalf continued undeterred. “You’ve spoken of all the rest. Surely the leader of such a promising team should be remembered?”

“He’s dead, like the rest of them. You wouldn’t want him; he was just a boy who wanted to play at being a hero. A worthless idiot who shouldn’t have even set foot on that path much less become a leader.” He said shortly. After a pause his voice changed to a heavy, remorseful one. “He made so many stupid mistakes, and all of them cost him dearly but his friends ended up footing the bill. Couldn’t even protect what was important to him. Even Winchester managed to get some sense knocked into him before the end. He’s the one of the last people you’d want.”

The two passed into another quiet. The other diners, more than happy to keep their distance after the warrior’s angry rant, simply observed in silence. The conversation was fascinating, confusing, and terrifying at the same time. Fascinating because of the very nature of the conversation and some of the history being told, confusing since much of the knowledge was foreign to them, and terrifying due to the range of emotions Stryder was showing and history he never gave voice to. None dared to speak, for fear of what might happen next. They needn’t worry however, the objects of their dread and wonder seemed to forget the rest of the world even existed at the moment.

Finally breaking the quiet, the Wanderer spoke. “Why now? Why didn’t you help sooner? Did you do anything during the Collapse? Did you even care? Didn’t Cinder stealing Amber’s power scream ‘something is wrong’ at you? The sacrilege of the Relics? Salem’s meddling? The Awakening of the Ancient Ones? The Chimera? The Accursed? The Fall of any Kingdom? Salem’s been dead for 40 some years after an 8 year war, and mankind’s been on a decline since. What did it take to finally pull you out of your cottage, Wizard?” spitting out the word Wizard with more than a little venom.

In a regretful voice, the Wizard responded. “We, myself and others, had sworn an oath to not interfere with the world. For hundreds of years we held to that oath, perhaps a little too well. We had hoped that… With the gifts… Perhaps… We were wrong.”

After a terse nod Stryder probed, “Did it never occur to you that something could go sour down the line? Was there ever a back-up plan, failsafe, countermeasure, or contingency plan of any sort?”

“Sadly, no.” Was the simple answer, not even meeting the warrior’s eyes.

Although not expecting anything else, Stryder was still disappointed.

“That in itself was one of our many mistakes we have made recently. I wish to correct those mistakes.”

The Wizard received only an eye roll at his statement.

“But as you said, we cannot fix what has been broken. Not in the present at least.”

Hearing this made Stryder’s brows furrow in confusion.

“There is a saying: prevention is better than the cure.”

This only served to heighten the warrior’s suspicion.

“What if Cinder never made her move? What if the Kingdoms never went to war with each other and focused on the true enemy? What if there was someone who could unite them and lead them to action? If you knew then what you know now, what would you change?”

“What are you suggesting?” Stryder asked in an intrigued yet disbelieving voice.

“I believe you know very well what I’m suggesting.”

“But how?”

“You’ve seen what Cinder could do with only a part of a Maiden’s power, the strength of the Silver Eyes, and many other things besides. Who says we couldn’t ‘try, try again,’ hm?” Gandalf responds in an almost offering tone.

“I failed my family, my Team, my friends. I couldn’t stop my partner from charging to her death. I could only watch as my best friend bled out in my arms. I-” Gandalf cut him off.

“You were but a boy fighting in a war of Gods and Monsters. Playing a game to which you did not know the rules of. You did very well with what you were given, you all did. If you weren’t there, Ren and Nora wouldn’t have found a family. Phyrra wouldn’t have had the strength to go after Cinder. You gave Ruby the opportunity to finish Salem. All those people of the village wouldn’t have made it to the ship if you weren’t there. You helped Cardin come to his senses and pass with honor. You gave Velvet hope where she had none. You may not have been able to save Weiss, but you surely avenged her and saved many others besides. You stayed behind to help when you could’ve run. You’ve conquered when others succumbed. You may not have been the fastest, strongest, smartest, or greatest, but you have the heart of a true Huntsman. Out of all that have come before, I most certainly would want someone like you to help me.”

Stryder couldn’t come up with a retort to that.

“What I’m about to do is forbidden, for many reasons. I don’t even know if this will work. But I am willing to try. Will you help me Jaune Arc, Leader of Team JNPR?”

For the first time in many years, Jaune was at a loss. He couldn’t help but know that Gandalf was telling him the truth about his offer, yet he still couldn’t believe it. He looked at the mementoes he carried. Each one brought back memories of their respective happiness, hopes, dreams, and pain. Not a day went by that he didn’t think about them, how he could’ve done better, how he should’ve done better. It should’ve been him that didn’t make it, he was the faker and the rest were the real deal. The offer was tempting to say the least, but will he take it? After much self-debate, reminiscing, and remembering the reason he’s held on all these years, he made his choice.

“Even after all these years, I’m still a fool.” He looked at Gandalf with determination and, for the first in a long time, hope.

“Aren’t we all?” Gandalf could only say with a humored chuckle.

~timeskip~

Jaune and Gandalf were standing in a clearing. A large stone circle with foreign writing lay carved into the ground.

“Well, I guess this is it then.”

“I suppose it is.”

“Are we sure this will this work?”

“This has never been done before, so I wouldn’t know. This isn’t something that anyone of my Order has considered doing due to the risks involved.”

Jaune nodded at that, for the two have discussed this project at length over the past few years since their first meeting at the Edge. The warrior extends his hand to the wizard, for what could be the last time.

“Goodbye, Gandalf.”

“Goodbye, Jaune.”

Jaune breaks off the handshake and walks away from the man he’s learned to call a friend. Stepping into the circle the symbols begin to glow. Gandalf begins chanting when Jaune approaches the center, followed closely by Jaune.

The symbols glowed brighter, creating a light easily seen even during the day. Many other designs and symbols appeared inside the circle creating light of its own. The brightness intensified until it created a solid dome with Jaune inside it. It ended as quickly as it began. The writings and symbols were burned into the ground, the stones lay broken in half, and the last Huntsman of Beacon disappeared.

“May fortune favor the foolish.” Gandalf murmured.

#jaune arc #jaune #rwby #Team RWBY #Blake Belladonna #yang xiao long #ruby rose #weiss schnee #phyrra nikos #lie ren #nora valkyrie #future au #time travel #minor crossover #not sure if i'll continue this #constructive critism welcome

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