“Okay, Mr. Big Time.”
She truly couldn’t imagine someone more admirable than him in this moment. The fact that he persevered after everything he went through, after the horrific things his father did to him and his brother… it was just showcasing so much strength. She realized she’d truly never met someone this strong. She’d seen terrible things happen to people, and she’d them eventually succumb to what they had dealt with. But not Jack.
She knew that someday she would have to talk to him about all of the things she’d gone through. About the death of her first love and the discovery that her father, her absolute hero, wasn’t as amazing as she thought that he once was. She knew she would have to open up to all of those things, and she wanted to—she truly did—but not today, not right now. Though she cried not only because of him, but with him, she knew now wasn’t the time to open up. But at least because of this, she knew that she could. That it would all be okay someday, someday soon, to open up to another person. Jack at taught her that, along with how to be brave. Which, of course, she would still say that he was. She didn’t care if he was young back then, because right now he was older, and he was able to get past all of the things that he had been put through. It wasn’t fair, what he’d suffered through, and yet—he still smiled. He still entertained other people, and she found that to be one of the most beautiful things she’d ever heard of.
Her arms wrapped tightly around his waist, fingers spread out over those same scars that he showed her. She had the distinct feeling that he didn’t take off his shirt too often, that he rarely showed other people this part of him. And she felt honored to be one of those that he had shown. “We understand,” she repeated, voice hoarse as she agreed with the words that he spoke to her—so softly, so patiently, as if she were the one that needed coddling here instead of him. Being as emotional as she was, it was no surprise that she really did feel his pain here. Not to mention she’d gone through some of her own pain in the past.
Softly, a voice from the kitchen called out to them. “Is everything okay in there?” Elisa’s voice, laced with concern.
“Yes, Auntie E, everything’s fine,” she replied, her tone not showing much conviction, but at least it was there.
Echo’s head was buried in Jack’s shoulder, and there she pressed gentle little kisses, gentle showings of affection as she continued to rub his back. She wondered how broken he was, what of the brokenness he wasn’t showing. She wondered how he had been able to rise above his past, and if she would be able to do the same, or to continue on the straight and steady path the International Council of Witches had shown to her. It was odd, but after all of this, she just wanted to make Jack proud. She wanted to be half the person that he was.
He sucks it all up when the voice is heard, preparing to not be caught in tears. He was already seen in blood and that was enough for one day. Even if it hadn’t been the best thing for them he was glad that Echo had an aunt that was concerned with a boy in the house, or well, concerned about pretty much anything.
Maybe he just liked happy and loving family members because of his past. They helped keep his faith that there are good people in the world. People who love one another and care deeply about each other.
That’s all he wanted for Echo. He wanted her to have people that love and care for her surround her, because she needs it and deserves it more than anything.
The kisses laid gently upon his shoulder had been something in a mix of comfort, love, and even a bit trembling. He shivers. Then, he leans over and kisses her forehead.
Even if it had been from a more bitter moment, he had found this one to be beautiful because it opened his eyes to falling for her. It opened his eyes some real magic. Not witch spells or illusions by a sleight.
But the real magic was the bond they had broken into within a few days, how complete strangers became completely attached to each other, but the good attached, the comfortable loving type. That missing puzzle piece, the corner one.
He doesn’t want to let go. He doesn’t want her hand to stop touching his backbone, or his hands to unwrap her body.
“There’s nothing I’d hide from your pretty face.”
“I played with your rifle and other military toys the other day when you weren’t home. I couldn’t help myself…you need to lock your house up better, breaking in was a breeze.”
“I really get this urge sometimes to cut off all of your hair, because the way it’s long in front makes me think of this dude in a nickelodeon band.”
I’ve finally decided that I want another muse and I’ve been dying to play Castiel forever, so I’m going to start to catch up on Supernatural. uwu
In the movie Jack is a boy whom is most likely to be in his early twenties. He’s a very cunning and sneaky pickpocket and lock picker. He doesn’t appear strongly throughout the movie, but more of a secondary placed character, so we don’t get a large intake on his character, although you can tell by his reactions that he is both a very kind boy and still has traces of immaturity with his age. He also seems to spot for the harder tasks and tends to be the only member whom actually has to fight with agents and come up closely to them. I believe this marks self sacrifice, one who has more up close experience, and does the dirty work of the horsemen.
My Jack is all this but with some addition to his character. I wanted to extend him and push his slight lack of development. I gave him a rather tragic past of not having family members, I believe that goes into his character because of the death role he has to take would make more sense if someone who doesn’t have family to hurt is chosen for that role. I also like to think he’s been a pickpocket from a very young age and in high school had a large tendency to get detention and be a class clown.
Her voice had barely even raised above a murmur; her nimble fingers had retreated to her palm as she stared at the other.
“Can I help you with anything?”
He had a simple and most pleased smile scripted across his face.
“Can I interest you in a magic trick?”
It was a relief that Jack hugged her back. Even though he was the one admitting his past to her, she felt like she needed the comfort, as well. But he was the important one here, the one who needed to be taken care of. And Echo, naturally nurturing and falling madly for Jack, wanted to take care of him as best as a girl like her could. Evne if she was a witch, she had no magickal remedy for erasing the past, but she could try to ease it for him. Even if she took just a bit of the pain, she would try so hard to do just that. She wanted to cuddle him close, pull him in, and assure that everything would be okay. It was honestly all she knew how to do. She’d never had a family member die on her, save a grand parent that she barely even knew, so she couldn’t imagine how that must have felt. Rothen had died, had killed himself, so this was a bit different. Echo liked to argue, back when she’d hated Seekers because of their involvement, that they had sort of murdered Rothen by taking his magick away. Without their magick, a witch felt like absolutely nothing. They felt worthless, so she heard, and it was like taking away one’s lungs and giving them no room to breathe. There was nothing, absolutely nothing, left to do but flounder aimlessly until one could breathe. And without your magick, you just couldn’t. The witches who lived after having their magick stripped from them were misery-stricken, suicidal, always depressed. It was hard to do, and that was why Echo didn’t blame Rothen for checking out on a life that was going to be filled with self-loathing early.
But she’d be damned if she didn’t miss him.
The way Jack cradled her made her wonder how she’d gotten so lucky. He, truly, was utterly amazing. In every way she could think of, Jack was fantastic to her. He was still such a happy person even after the murder of someone who seemed very close to him. She wondered if she could learn from him, and knew without question that she definitely could. And she wanted to. She wanted to have his bravery and strength more than anything else.
“Yes I do.” She whispered her words and looked down. For some reason, she felt guilt-ridden. Why had a game of twenty questions turned so painful for the both of them? She wished she had the answers, but all she could do was sit and wait and wonder what might happen next.
So now Echo was learning very much about Jack, and very much about herself. First, was that Jack had an amazing older brother, a dead mother, and a dad that sounded like an absolute piece of shit. What she learned about herself? Well, she never knew you could want to destroy someone so much until she heard about what Jack’s father had done to him as a child. Hurting your kid? Hurting your little boy? That was absolutely horrid to her. This, this was why she wanted to be a mother—she wanted to take care and adore her kids the way some children hadn’t been adored. To know that Jack had grown up without a mom to love him and a father that abused him made her sick to her stomach. She clutched him a bit tighter, willing herself not to tear up here. She felt enraged. How could a father do that to his son? Instill so much fear? It was despicable. She knew the story was taking a drastic turn, and tried not to shudder.
When Jack moved her over, still so gentle after everything, she nodded and sat on her knees. When he took off his top and revealed the scars, she tried not to react, not wanting him to think she was horrified.
When, in reality she’d never found him more beautiful.
So many scars. So many awful memories that he, as a young boy, was forced to endure. She wanted to sob, she wanted to go back in time and stop his father and bring his brother back. She wished she could do something, anything, but she was helpless.
She placed a hand over her mouth and looked down, eyes shimmering with tears. Slowly, she stood up and took his hands. “Jack, I wish I knew what to say.” Tears falling, she shuffled her feet and sighed. “I wish so many things. To be able to have stopped your dad, to bring your brother back, to give you the childhood you deserved, I—” she paused and shook her head. “Don’t you dare tell me you aren’t brave again. You really are, and I just—I’m really sorry.” No words could express the sorrow she felt.
A brush of phalanges stoke her cheek innocently. He knows why she is crying, but somehow wonders why. He feels guilt, he shouldn’t of spoke, but she would find out sooner or later. She’d catch on that he hates taking off his shirt, she’d wonder why she shivered at the mention of the word abuse.
He feels there’s more than just him in those tears, there is more than just want. There’s understanding. Maybe magic wasn’t all she had to speak about, maybe she had dealt with horrid things too, but he doesn’t want her to talk about, he doesn’t want to see her cry again. He drops to story, it’s unresolved and he isn’t sure if she wanted the ending, to know how his life went when his father disappeared, after his very own father murdered his older brother and than vanished.
She called him brave, but all he had been was an afraid child inside. So he doesn’t decline nor accept what she says, he just continues looking at her, looking through silence to unspoken words.
He wraps himself around her, a hand holds the back of her head and runs through her hair at the same time. He hushes her. “Shh.” Tears where making the corners of his eyes, they felt swollen and his eyelids numb, but he doesn’t make a sound. He hushes her and silently cries himself. He whispers so leniently to her. “I’m better. You’re better. We’re better. Something happened to you too, maybe not the same way as me, but I’m right here. I understand. That’s what brought us here, Echo. We understand.”
It’s oddly a beautiful sight, yet such one that’d make you gasp breath. Two young heats, they wrap around each other, a boy with scars written all over his backbone. He’s hushing the girl’s tears while he cries too. It sounds hypocritical, but it had been because they cried for different reasons.
It’d be strange for Echo’s Aunt to peak in now. Yet, he does feel she may be around, and wonders what her or Echo’s other family member, some boy he judged by the room he passed would say to see them in such a state.
He kisses her forehead as the last tear rolls off his jaw. He didn’t feel like Jack Wilder, he felt like someone else.
“I got mistaken for myself at a Starbucks once. This guy came up to me and said, ‘Hey, man, you look a lot like that guy, James Franco’s little brother, Dave.’ And I was like, ‘Pssshhh. Man, that fool? That guy sucks.’ “
thank you c: yes i am now 16. -tackle cuddle-