rampant-noodle:

blackjacknoir:

you know kid its pretty goddamn rude that you keep on calling me old because i really aint as old as i wish i was.

You sneer at the familiar ramblings of the teenage alien. You roll a fingertip over a toggle, over a key. Screen fully up, waiting for proper response from his end’s system. Your face is alight with excitement that’s damned-near boyish. You’re grinning and excited, more than you’ve been in your life.

nice to see you too though. worried youd consumed yourself in all that self hatred you know.

YOU LOOK PRETTY FUCKING OLD TO ME, DUST BAG. 

You glare at his image as your beaten down computer finally warms up enough to run the program. He truly didn’t look too crazy old but he was so fleshy and pink you had no idea how to gauge his age.

OH SHUT UP. AS IF YOU GIVE TWO SHITS. WHAT DID YOU NEED AGAIN?

He rubbed at the dark rings beneath his eyes, the skin there felt raw and tired.. Much like the rest of him. If the other wasn’t looking straight at him he might have given himself a fine slap across the face to rid himself of this fuzzy haze.

past your curfew kid?

You inquire with a chuckle and quirked brow. You’ve hardly seen a child with such sunken, tired eyes. Had it all been from the coding of the thing? Or was it events from this kid’s world that he hadn’t been made savvy to?

Come to think of it, he knew literally next to nothing about the child’s universe. What he fought for, what he was doing. All he knew was that there was a Jack in that universe, and this kid was playing a game. Assumably making him one of the heroes of that universe. But of which rank?

anyway i just wanted to check and see if the wormhole was ready.

romcomgod:

blackjacknoir:

You move to the screen. You tap a window and pull up the code. Your fingers flick over the keys.

kid. you there.

You jerk at the sudden sound, having for once been so close to reaching that door to sleep. Cursing under your breath as you rub your eyes you shake your mouse, willing your screen back to life. Oh… It was him… You were beginning to think his universe had taken a turn for the worse. How much had you internally agonized since that last conversation? You couldn’t remember. Your self loathing tending to blend together in a achingly empty pit in your stomach. Finally finding yourself again you gathered your sleepy think pan into some semblance of something usable.

YEAH. WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT? OF COURSE YOU DECIDE TO LET ME KNOW YOUR ANCIENT ASS IS STILL ALIVE AT THE EXACT MOMENT SINCE MY SESSION BEGAN THAT MY OVER WORKED THINK PAN HAS ALLOWED ME TO FINALLY TRY TO GET SOME SLEEP. PERFECT TIMING FUCKTARD..

AND I’M GLAD YOU’RE OK. WHAT DID YOU NEED?

you know kid its pretty goddamn rude that you keep on calling me old because i really aint as old as i wish i was.

You sneer at the familiar ramblings of the teenage alien. You roll a fingertip over a toggle, over a key. Screen fully up, waiting for proper response from his end’s system. Your face is alight with excitement that’s damned-near boyish. You’re grinning and excited, more than you’ve been in your life.

nice to see you too though. worried youd consumed yourself in all that self hatred you know.

prospitianmadame:

I don’t want fame and glory.

The words are out of your mouth before you can think, your eyes softening as you show how tired you are. You’re unable to sleep. You miss your home. And you never signed up for any of this political intrigue. You’re not a soldier. You’re not a general. You’re not an advisor or a scholar or involved in this war at all. You’re just a civillian- a mail worker, and you don’t know how to handle this, other than to accept your fate and move back to your destined path.

I don’t want to be a hero. I just… want to go back to a simple life. 
After all, you are a pawn. A pawn can only move forward. There is no retreat. And so you must strengthen your resolve. You must not give up. And so the tiredness gives way to determination, your eyes sparking in the dark as all fear begins to leave you.

There is no going back.

There is no retreat. Is there?

And so you begin to search in the bowels of your mailbag for items of great importance, anything that could turn the tides of war in the wrong hands. Anything that can save you from the Black Queen’s wrath and propel Jack Noir to victory.

Words of wisdom suddenly echo in your mind as you find a gilt envelope, sealed in wax with the insignia of the Second High General of the Prospitian army, directed to the Elder High General located on Prospit. 

Some have greatness thrust upon them.  

no.

You regard her with badly hidden excitement. You shift your stance and stare down at her. Even as a pawn, yourself. Well, all right. You addressed the term ‘pawn’ with light contempt. God knows you’ve never had that pawn’s drive. And it’s always had you curious as can be. Especially now, seeing her mindless need to walk forward. You step back from her and nod down.

do what you need. itll only be a few more days sweetheart.

(Source: blackjacknoir)

You move to the screen. You tap a window and pull up the code. Your fingers flick over the keys.

kid. you there.