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firealder2005 · 1 year

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AMOW: Winter Wumperland 2022 Day. 12 Forced to Perform~Animal Attack~Forced Transformation

Featuring............COUSIN BONDING TIME!!!

What cousins, you ask? Why, it’s Luke Skywalker, Ryoo Naberrie, & Pooja Naberrie all on a mission to an old Sith planet to look for a base.

Easy peasy right? WRONG!

This is going to be a multichap since I realized I’m just having way too much fun writing the cousins and I was already 5 pages in before they even stepped foot on plant lol.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43545942/chapters/109486980

Enjoy!

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Ryoo Naberrie, when she was younger, had dreamed of being an artist, or a historian. She had loved creating art and learning about it - and over time, had formed the desire to preserve as much of it as possible.

Maybe back when she was a small child, it wouldn’t have been such a hard job. After all, Naboo was famous for its love of art, beauty, and charm.

However, everything changed with the formation of the Empire, and their accompanying censorships.

It cracked down on any and all information about the Jedi Naboo held. Confiscated parts of their history involving revolts, unfair taxation, and even locked up the majority of information on Ryoo’s own aunt - the kind, beautiful, passionate Padme Amidala.

That had been the final straw for Ryoo Naberrie.

So she called one of her aunt’s old handmaidens, Sabe, and she was able to get her in contact with Leia Organa, Senator of Alderaan - a longtime ally of Naboo.

The two of them had worked out a way to allow Ryoo to get the Rebellion inside information in the Imperial network that they had hidden - and that had required Ryoo learning how to hack, code, and cover her tracks in the holonet.

She had to say, she rather enjoyed the work.

Plus, she got to dig around in the censored part of the holonet. Even if she couldn’t bring all that she had learned into the open (yet), it was still an exhilarating learning experience.

Until she got caught.

Thankfully, Ryoo’s defection hadn’t been detected until after the Imperial Senate had been dissolved, so Pooja, her sister, hadn’t suffered any backlash from the uppity upper class of the Empire.

But unfortunately, Ryoo’s attempted arrest and bounty had put a target on her whole family’s backs, and Pooja had been forced to go on the run with her while their mother, father, and grandparents were all put under house arrest.

It had been just her and Pooja, until Leia, now a wanted Rebel, extended a formal invitation to join the Rebellion - physically.

And, well, they had nothing else going for them at the moment.

Plus, it would be nice to be able to take a shot at the Empire.

And she could provide the Rebellion propaganda team with the many secret Imperial gossip she had found…

And that’s how Ryoo found herself where she was now. On a mission with Pooja, and Luke Skywalker, Death Star pilot, Jedi-in-training, former commander of Rogue (now Red) Squadron.

And son of Uncle Anakin.

When Ryoo had first heard of Luke, she had immediately gotten whiplash. And then anger set in.

The less said about what she did afterwards, the better. Not her finest moment, to say the least.

But Ryoo also knew Luke as the son of her aunt.

Of Padme.

He was her cousin, and he probably didn’t know, but she had no clue on how to break it to him.

It was maddening, really.

“High Command wants us to check out this planet,” Luke said, pointing to the holoprojection of a system. “It’s in the Korriban system, so we’ll have to be careful with our hyperspace jumps, but there should be an easy route right here,” he minimized the system projection and zoomed out further, before motioning between their current position near Bothawui and a planet Ryoo had never heard of - Athiss.

“Athiss is a hard planet to get to,” Luke explained as Ryoo closely studied the star map. “Hyperspace lanes have been unpredictable in the Korriban system for some time, and there’s only one way to get to Athiss.” he brought the hyperspace lanes up onto the star map. “We’ll need to jump to Korriban, then Ziost, and then we’ll have a straight-shot for Athiss.”

“Recalculating along the way, I’m guessing right?” Pooja added. Luke nodded, a light smile on his face.

“Right, after every jump we’ll have to recalculate. High Command doesn’t want to take any risks,”

“Any more than usual,” Ryoo shrugged.

“And recalculating our path after each jump should maximize our chances of not being pulled off-course.”

“Sounds good,” Pooja said, nudging her older sister’s shoulder playfully.

“When do we leave?” Ryoo asked.

Luke turned the holoprojector off, that smile still on his face. “30 minutes.”

LINE BREAKLINE BREAKLINE BREAKLINE BREAKLINE BREAKLINE BREAKLINE BREAKLINE BREAKLINE BREAKLINE BREAKLINE BREAKLINE BREAKLINE BREAKLINE BREAKLINE BREAKLINE BREAKLINE BREAKLINE BREAKLINE BREAKLINE BREAKLINE BREAKLINE BREAKLINE BREAKLINE BREAKLINE BREAKLINE BREAKLINE BREAK

A few evasion of Imperial forces and a tight escape from a bounty hunter later found Luke and his companions emerging from hyperspace above the dark red planet of Korriban.

Instantly, Luke tightened his grip on the ship’s controls, shuddering a bit at the dark, malevolent forces coming from the planet. He felt so much anger, hatred, even tendrils of fear…

And whatever was down there could sense him.

Jedi…something hissed in his mind, almost making him jump.

“You good Luke?” one of his companions, Ryoo, asked. He recalled she was the older sister between her and Pooja, and had come from Naboo after Ryoo herself had been found out as an Rebel spy.

“Yeah,” he called back as Ryoo entered the cockpit. “I’m good. Just got a nasty feeling from that planet.” he nodded towards the red clouds storming across Korriban’s skies.

“Well, good news,” Ryoo grinned. “We will not have to go there.”

Luke snorted. “Don’t jinx it for me.”

Laughing, Ryoo plopped down into the co-pilot's seat as Luke began their recalculations to the planet Ziost.

“You know, I’ve done a little research on our way here,” Ryoo began conversationally.

“Yeah?” Luke replied, fiddling with the hyperspace controls. “I’ve heard you’ve got quite the talent for it.”

“Thank you,” Ryoo spun the chair around to face him, hands on her Rebellion-issued pants. “Good to know my reputation proceeds me!” Luke shot her a smile as the recalculatiosn started.

“Korriban, also known as Morraband, was apparently homeworld to the Sith,” Ryoo explained as their ship powered up its hyperdrive and shot into hyperspace. “Lots of creepy artifacts and - allegedly - some spirits of ancient Sith still reside there.”

Luke grimaced. “That doesn’t make me want to go there.”

Ryoo punched him in the shoulder after he let go of the controls. “Wasn’t trying to convince you,” she said. “I think we’re in a system that used to belong to the Sith,” she explained at Luke’s questioning look. “And Athiss is in it.”

Luke’s mouth opened slightly as he slowly turned his chair around to face her. “So we should be very careful,” he slowly concluded.

Ryoo nodded. “Exactly.”

Luke leaned back in his seat and sighed. “Why are my missions never normal?” he grumbled slightly. Ryoo gave a cheeky grin.

“Maybe because of the Force?”

“If the Force is the problem, then I’d like to file a complaint.” Luke let his own grin form.

“I bet it’ll say to give it to the complaint department,” Ryoo continued, her grin widening as she pointed to the mini trash compactor.

“Ha, ha, ha,” Luke dryly replied. “Very funny.”

That was when Pooja poked her head in. “My “Ryoo is being impertinent” senses were tingling,” she reported, fixing her sister with a look. “What’s going on here?”

Ryoo gave an exaggerated eye roll to Luke, making him smile even more. “Oh, nothing baby sister,” she teased. “Just discussing what the Force would say about Luke’s complaints.”

Pooja shook her head with a sigh, but a smile was on her face. “Well, don’t get too into it, okay?” she said. “You never know if the Force may take it the wrong way!”

“I’ll be sure to put a word in.” Luke offered with a deadpan stare.

“For or against me?” Ryoo asked.

Luke cracked a grin. “Against.”

Ryoo gasped, slapping her hand to her chest. “Treachery!” she dramatically exclaimed. “Betrayal!”

“It’ll serve you right!” Pooja teased, coming to sit down on one of the spare passenger seats. “Think the Force could handle her?” she asked Luke, who shrugged.

“Don’t know, maybe it’ll immediately drop her back on us.” he responded. He laughed as Ryoo shoved his shoulder and did the same to her sister.

“Oh, shut it you two!” the older of the group grinned. “Or I may lock you in a storage closet when we get back!”

“You’ll have to deal with Leia’s wrath then,” Luke innocently said.

“Damn!” Ryoo threw her hands into the air. “There’s no winning with you!”

Luke simply threw his head back and laughed.

Pooja couldn’t believe it.

She had actually managed to find her cousin! Luke Skywalker!

And not only that, but she’s on a mission with both him and her sister!

The only thing that would make it better is if…if the rest of their family was with them.

Her heart twisted at the thought of her parents and beloved grandparents on the scrutiny of the Empire. She hoped they were okay, and would do what they needed to in order to survive.

Even if it meant denouncing Pooja and Ryoo.

She would want them to suffer because of their true allegiance.

“So, Luke, what vibes did you get from Ziost?”

“Death. Betrayal. Darkness.”

“Ooookay. Yeah we’re not going there either.”

“My thoughts exactly.”

Pooja smiled at the banter Ryoo had easily entered with their cousin. Luke was fun to talk to - funny, kind, and clever.

It reminded her of Uncle Ani.

“You know Luke,” Pooja butted into the conversation, flinging her arms around the headrest of Luke’s seat. “Would you be interested in any help with Jedi artifact finding? Ryoo would be an excellent help.”

Luke looked mildly surprised, like he hadn’t thought about actively finding Jedi artifacts.

Ryoo raised an eyebrow, but looked pleased at the idea.

“Eventually,” Luke said. “I think I would, and if she’s interested…” he raised his own brow in Ryoo’s direction, and she instantly nodded her agreement.

“It’s a plan!” Pooja’s sister announced as they came out of hyperspace.

“Welcome to Athiss,” Luke said as they came to hover over the planet. Looking out the viewport, Pooja saw the brown and blue landscape flecked with parts of dark green. White clouds curled throughout the planet’s sky.

“Vibe check?” Ryoo leaned over and staged-whispered to Luke. Pooja gave her a chiding look. Honestly, it felt like Pooja was the older sister sometimes!

Luke was frowning. “There is life down there all right,” he said as they began their descent into the clouds. “It doesn’t seem to be as darkness-heavy as Korriban or Ziost, but I’m still getting a bad feeling about it.”

“Great,” Pooja sighed. “Who’s ready?”

“Not me.” Ryoo and Luke replied together.

“Neither am I,” Pooja agreed. “But here goes nothing.”

Their ship came in for a landing, Luke being very careful not to clip the sides on any of the vast mountain ranges.

“It’s curious,” Ryoo said as the ship powered down. “This isn’t anything like I had expected from a Sith world. It’s very…habitable. Not creepy.”

They all stared out of the viewport.

“I think that is exactly what makes it so creepy.” Pooja heard Luke murmur to himself.

He was right.

There was something off about Athiss.

Very off.

#amow winter whumperland 2022 #alderwrites #the last ones standing #animal attack #forced to perform #luke skywalker #ryoo naberrie #forced transformation #pooja naberrie #leia organa #sabé #athiss #moraband #ziost

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rotzaprachim · 2 years

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7 and 22 for the writing asks!!! if u wish!!

thank you so so so much for this question!

7. What is your deepest joy about writing?

very corny maybe but it's the sense of human connection, even in what's often a very solitary project. i think of it less as this is how i feel but, this is how it might feel, for someone, and the process by which it gets to a page and gets to someone else still boggles my mind. i wrote kalimat at this really low time for me in the pandemic in an afternoon and it came from this place of loneliness and human connection and how much i love the arabic language, and it was meant to be a little drabble that I didn't think anyone would ever read but the comments went in this whole other direction I like to reread, every once in a while. the feeling of all these other people, out there, when I was locked in my house were astounding.

22. How organized are you with your writing? Describe to me your organization method, if it exists. What tools do you use? Notebooks? Binders? Apps? The Cloud?#

It's this very adhd-fueled pinball between hyper organized and completely chaotic, in large part because I've found I can't write beginning to end and instead tend to piece things out of order as they occur to me. I tend to use the google docs app on my phone to jot down random lines or thoughts as they occur to me while walking or standing in line, and then i tend to expand or extrapolate long hand in notebooks and let that sit for at least a few days. Once I feel like I have enough I type it up online. i have two very long chaptered fics right now that are the first time i've had to seriously break out a framework and i keep scaffolding what needs to happen Here Here and Here and then going back and changing that. (This is also a bit how I right non fiction and essay stuff.) The essential things to me are notebooks and pens in different colors so i can go back and cross things out later. I bought scrivener this year and it was really life changing in making it easier to puzzle piece wildly disparate sections together. at some point i had to admit to myself the fic i've been working on for the last year is my first serious attempt at a novel and it's taught me so much about how I work on longer things, when before I started to work out a process all my fiction was either a one train of thought single-afternoon kind of word blast (in secret between the shadow and the soul, kalimat) or a multichap that I never got beyond chapter two on.

#writing asks

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ursafootprints · 2 years

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I have no idea when I'm going to get around to writing these since I'm pretty steadily focusing on you're not yet done atm, but now that I've beat my outline into presentable shape that one's looking to be a looong ride and I'm sure I'll need to take breaks for working on other stuff in the meantime! sssssssssoooooooo Starker outlines currently sitting in my general ideas folder:

- oneshot CW/HC AU where Tony fucks Peter on the way back from Germany in a fit of simultaneous narcissism and self-loathing and how that affects their relationship throughout HC

- oneshot where Tony gets hit with a Sleeping Beauty spell on an Avengers mission in a setting where Tony's already turned Peter down for being too young/"infatuated" rather than in love, Guess What Happens Next

- oneshot Pepper/Tony/Peter fic where Pepper gives Tony her blessing to be with Peter in addition to her, but she's miffed when he keeps acting all hangdog and guilty about it even though she's FINE with it, and she decides the best way to finally get that through Tony's skull is to seduce them into a threesome

- LONG oneshot (PROBABLY???) identity porn AU inspired by the Miraculous Ladybug love square, where both Iron Man and Spider-man are anonymous heroes, Peter is an SI employee and in love with Tony, and Iron Man has a thing for fellow vigilante Spider-man.

- likely multichap fic where blah blah, science gone wrong, Tony accidentally time-travels his ~early 20s self to the present day. Tony and his younger self butt heads, youngTony IMMEDIATELY starts trying to seduce Peter from the second he lays eyes on him while Tony loses his mind about it in the background, Tony and youngTony inadvertently get in some sessions of much-more-literal-than-usual reparenting therapy.

- also a non-Starker Flash/Peter sex pollen/identity reveal fic that is actually, ehhhh, 3/4 of the way written at this point?? COMING SOONISH.

Would love to hear what ideas people are most excited about (as well as maybe see people tackle these ideas in their own way 👀👀👀)!!

#starker #wips #half-baked ideas

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chloebeale · 3 years

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Self promotion attack! What are your seven favorite stories you’ve either written (or read if you don't write or didn't write seven) over the last 12 months?

omg ok i wish this was all time rather than over the last 12 months cause i revisited an old story the other day and i’m in my feelings about it. but anyway okay, let’s see... (gonna format this like a fic rec so i can add descriptions)

IT’S THE ONE GOOD THING THAT I’VE GOT

two part series (bechloe)

rated t&m // (1) beca has wanted chloe for five years now. in fact, she even sort of had her for a little bit. so why can’t she just tell her? (2) apparently five years of pining just wasn’t long enough. // complete

THE MORE THAT I KNOW YOU, THE MORE I WANT TO

mini multichap (bechloe)

rated e // bechloe week “he bit me” prompt; three separate occasions where beca had use for some variation of that phrase. // complete

‘CAUSE YOU WEREN’T MINE TO LOSE

multi chap (bechloe)

rated m // back in college, beca was so in love with chloe beale. she never told her, though. she never told anyone. so, when Chloe shows up, years later, on beca’s doorstep, drunk out of her mind after a bad breakup, beca is not going to turn her away. she does the decent thing and invites her in to get sobered up…the next morning, she realizes she maybe should’ve just heard her out last night. // in-progress

I WISH YOU WOULD

one shot (mitchsen)

rated e // beca has a lot on her plate with DJ khaled’s offer, and she notices that aubrey is struggling with her own things, too. // complete

‘CAUSE I KNOW THAT IT’S DELICATE

one shot (bechloe)

rated m // prompt: bechloe story where it’s beca’s first time with chloe but it’s beca’s first time ever as she works though breaking away from religious ideologies and being ok in a gay relationship. chloes super sweet about it. // complete

I HEAR YOUR VOICE, FEELS LIKE FLYING

one shot (bechloe)

rated t // when the bellas’ bus breaks down and they need to raise money for a new one, chloe inexplicably suggests jumping from a plane. did beca mention she’s terrified of heights? // complete

YOU ARE THE BEST THING THAT’S EVER BEEN MINE

one shot (bechloe)

rated t // beca never understood before why chloe was the exception, but she's starting to get it now. // complete

#this was fun thank you!!#bechloe #mitchsen #anonymous #question

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suzuki-violin-school · 2 years

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rating my old wattpad drafts/stories

This is just gonna be one long self callout post but I do think it's gonna be funny

"Persona 5 oneshots" (published) - actually pretty decent for what it is but there's only three published parts. fortunately the published ones are actually better than the three unpublished drafts oof- 7/10

"🥺ruv" (draft) - I don't want to talk about this and also I put way too much effort into attempting Russian dialogue 1/10

"The Queen {Ben Hardy as Roger Taylor x Reader}" (published) - out of every fic I've ever written and across every fanfiction platform I've used, this is the most successful fic. I've held the number one spot in several tags and still hold high spots 1000/10

"ni no kuni ii revenant kingdom oneshots" (published) - 10/10 only because I could not for the life of me find any nnk2 fanfiction out there so I wrote my own (it's not good though, although I am using it as a fandomswap AU with bnha)

"The Contract" (draft) - it had potential when it was just a concept but execution was terrible. It took a turn for the worse and now has the same vibes as being sold to one direction. the plot was sign this contract and you marry loki and teach him earth etiquette so he doesn't go on an alien murder rampage again 0/10

"Loki x reader bumbles" (draft) - what the fuck is a bumble? it ended up splitting into three different fics all at once and they were all bad. One was overworked maid reader is assigned as loki's personal caretaker, one was Tony stark's little sister babysits loki on the regular while the avengers are out Doing Thingsᵀᴹ (that one was titled trash gremlin), and the other was Loki finds out his lover lied to him about her past and gets mad at her and she breaks down and goes into a coma for hundreds of years and when she reawakens Asgard is destroyed and Loki's dead 2/10

"multifandom oneshots requests only" (unpublished) - it ruined my life -1000/10

"a foreign trickster" (draft) - 9/10 on potential I might come back to this one and try to fix it. it's a post-game persona 5 fic about a half-Japanese girl moving to Japan from America except she was a part of a group similar to the phantom thieves and the metaverse reappears when she arrives maybe 4/10 overall

"My Best Friend" (published) - glorious although maybe not the best quality. It's a Brian May x childhood friend reader fic and for most of the beginning every other chapter is a childhood memory 9/10

"You digifucked up" (draft) - I don't wanna talk about it 0/10

"hfjavnbchvxgyjgmbnas" (draft) - I have no idea what this was supposed to be but it ended up as a three paragraph disgrace of a roy mustang fic 0/10

"Is orochimaru babie" (draft) - one point for each chapter none of them were good and the only actual substance was a breakdown fic 2/10

"Naruto x reader oneshots" (published) - pretty okay, has a decent amount of reads and comments 5/10

"Me, having watched five episodes: hnnngh fanfic" (draft) - 10/10 for nostalgia, first bnha fic I ever wrote. Is actually a great idea and is in the works to be reworked and posted here on tumblr as a cyo multichap like a 6/10 overall

"Peter Parker x Avenger Reader" (draft) - no <3 it was about Peter and his girlfriend both mutually breaking up with each other because they're both tony's underlings and they slowly fall for each other's superhero alter egos 0/10

"Yoosungi~" (draft) - I started writing a yoosung fic where reader was his best friend at school and was mad that he was obsessing over mc being 'just like rika uwu' and then it slowly turned into reader unfriending him and moving in with seven and then dating seven I don't know what happened there 0/10

"Land" (unpublished) - first noncon fic I ever wrote but I don't wanna get into it. Also the title was originally a keysmash but it autocorrected to land and I kept it 1/10

"Nigihayami Kohakunushi x reader" (draft) - wow conceited much? -10/10

"Howl & Sophie but not bc fight" (draft) - I was jealous of an anime girl and needed a fix-it fic 0/10

"Akiba's Beat" (draft) - ongoing pet project of mine. one of those fics that is for me and me only. gets a good rating because I love it. nearing 700 chapters and it's like seventeen different stories going on at once but I am in love with basically everyone in that game (bar mippity mop and saki) 10000000/10

"Toxin" (draft) - the only oc insert fic I've ever written and it was partially for a friend but also it's like four paragraphs of my oc waking up in orochimaru's lab with amnesia and meeting my friend's oc 0/10

"Queen Texts" (published) - gets fairly good interaction for some reason. I only wrote it to jump on the "group chat text fic" bandwagon I don't understand the hype also none of the jokes were funny ?? 6/10

"BNHA oneshots" (draft) - by 'oneshots' I guess I meant half a kaminari fic and a decent start to a decent shigaraki fic, might circle back to that one actually idk 0/10

"double-edged sword" (draft) - good concept? the first crossover fic I ever attempted. I got impatient after writing the first chapter though so the second chapter is a massive time skip to the juicer parts of the story thank god no one else has ever seen this 5/10

"more persona 5 bullshit" (draft) - the concept was ok and the execution was okay but it was also kinda ??? reader was Akira's sister and hooked up with Yusuke and Akira got mad and then reader 'woke a persona' except not she was just a floating jester who had some power pertaining to confidants' tarot cards or something 3/10

"No Secrets Spilled" (draft) - another persona 5 fic I had an obsession I'm aware. I have no idea what the fuck was happening it was about a reader who's super good at keeping secrets, one of those secrets being she's the sidekick to a cyber criminal being hunted by the phantom thieves 2/10

"Coaster Crazy" (draft) - a Joe mazzello fic about aspiring actress reader getting cast as his love interest in a film called coaster crazy. I liked it but I gave up on it because it was too much effort trying to come up with a 'script' for a 'film' 5/10

"Queenies: Rated M for Mature" (unpublished) - was a collaboration with some friends who turned out to be a bunch backstabbing motherfuckers -10/10 bad memories

"sky rim one shots?" (meant to be read in the same tone as bill wurtz saying majapahit) (draft) - it is simply one draft that was barely even a start to a fic. an elf banished from the silver crescents comes to Delvin to join the guild. she was banished because she kept wasting her earnings trying to find her best friend (lover) Nir for years and years and years. Turns out Nir changed his name to Niruin when his father disowned him 4/10

"the rfa is one big party" (draft) - gives off vibes like a fic from 2011. it's equal parts zen x jaehee, seven x yoosung, reader x jumin, except it's like a gazillion chapters of buildup (all through 'texts') that slowly leads to everyone living together and that's literally as far as I got 1/10

"BoRhap Cast/Queen Trioshots" (unpublished) - trioshots are not a real thing I don't think I'm pretty sure I made that up but they should be (only just now realizing they are a thing but they're called trilogies) they should be more common in fanfiction I think anyway they were pretty bad it would be 5/10 but I'm subtracting points for a particularly sad trioshot about roger's girlfriend reader being cheated on and then realizing her best friend John is the perfect man for her so 1/10

"akiba's beat x persona 5 crossover fic" (draft) - been there done that and didn't even try to give it a better title. this one was about reader being a hacker and doing basically the same thing Futaba did to try and lure the phantom thieves to violet eden because she was suspicious about the metaverse and delusions being similar 0/10

"Candy Shop fanfiction" (draft) - gonna be straight up with this one: this was fanfiction of a porn game series about a dude named Andy fucking girls made of different types of candy (and one time also fucking his coworker who is the daughter of satan) -10/10 not a good thought

"...even more persona 5 bullshit" (draft) - I really gave up with titles, huh. In which reader is a quiet reserved girl in Akira's class who occasionally skips a day of school and comes back the next day having pulled a stunt like keying a teacher's car or tp-ing the school. anyway ryuji found a secret admirer note (from reader obviously) and found out it was her and tried to ask her out but Ann reminded him they were going to do "charity work" after school but then Y/n followed them into Kamoshida's castle and ended up waking a persona not even for herself, she was just mad Kamoshida hurt Ryuji lmao 0/10

"[redacted] x me" (draft) - not me fantasizing about my hot teacher oop- 0/10 he'd think it's creepy and so do I

"Jareth is a babie" (draft) - the reader was Sarah's niece and she gave her the book for her birthday and then reader wandered into the underground and met jareth and that's where it ended 1/10

"LOLOL" (draft) - back in the days of good ol' RinMaru Games, I used all the necromancer makers and warrior makers and thief makers and based all their designs on MC and then tried to write a yoosung fic that took place almost entirely in the world of lolol 2/10 I miss rinmaru so much

"oh okay" (draft) - literally I just wrote the lead up and the part where you go to the dawnstar sanctuary and see arnbjorn and then go inside to find Cicero except I made the reader character yell responses to everything Cicero said 0/10

"I'm a dangerous man, MC" (draft) - written before I completed Seven's route, and I have never played other story, so I have no idea what I was thinking. Based solely on the fact that seven doesn't shut up about being dangerous, I decided to write some bullshit fic about Saeran hacking the reader's phone to stop contact with her bff seven oh seven and slowly manipulate her into thinking "oh wait is he serious? is he dangerous?" and eventually coercing her into letting him "kidnap" her and they basically run away together and seven is after them the whole time to rescue the reader and idk it was weird 1/10 just because I spent too much time on it

"it's just more jareth" (draft) - three chapters of my venting about the backstabbing motherfuckers from "queenies: rated m for mature" (see above). it was supposed to be a comfort fic where I dump my "friends" and wish for jareth to take me away and then he does and we fall in love but I didn't get very far 1/10

"Cheydinhal" (draft) - another ongoing pet project, slowly growing into a longer and longer sob story. It starts far in the past, when Cicero first moves into the cheydinhal sanctuary after his home in bruma is destroyed. he makes friends with a fellow member of the Black Hand and then one day she disappears (it's called a prison sentence, cicero, she was tried for murder) and then they're separated for years but meet again decades later on the roads of Skyrim. reunited, they fall in love. nazir is confused 1000000/10 my favorite wip

"no thanks" (draft) - ??? like three sentences??? I think it was an OHSHC fic??? 0/10

"Cicero not even oneshots anymore" (draft) - Serana's sister reader falls in love with the jester basically 0/10 not good at all

"Sims 4 boyfriend imagines" (draft) - I lost a bet. the only thing there is vampire au imagines. I wanna hate this but I think about soft Vlad too often 5/10

"My Name Is Me" (draft) - literally what the fuck. this was an original thing and not fanfiction but ??? It's about a kid named Me You what the fuck. Anyway his secret spy uncle dies and it's up to Me and his friends to finish his uncle's last mission idk 0/10

"fanfiction mistakes that piss me off" (draft) - would've been popular in 2008 I think. the entire first chapter is just the word orbs a bunch of times. I also called my general audience "thottie ass hoes" but only specifically if they "don't read a/n 's (author's note)" 0/10

"The Princess {Joe Mazzello x Reader}" (draft) - it was supposed to be a sequel to "The Queen" (mentioned up there somewhere^^) but there's literally nothing there it's a blank document you guys wtf 0/10

"this*has*no*plot" (draft) - another original thing. I didn't get far with it but it's about a beautiful princess with lots of suitors but no will to get married so she sneaks out of her window one night and goes on an adventure except she keeps meeting interesting people who are the main character of their own stories whereas she is a temporary side character in all of their stories. It's meant to seem as if there no movement in the story, just her being a stepping stone in other stories that we do not follow 0/10

"pleas" (draft) - another original thing but I'll be damned if I can tell you what it's about. Time travel? Super powers? A bunch of different characters who all knew this "max" guy at different time periods and he leads them all to a wine cellar hidden in a forest at a certain point in time and then there's like five of "max" but all different ages?? Idk bruv 3/10 for being kinda interesting I guess

here are some notable moments from things that will never see the light of day:

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sopeyb23-blog · 4 years

Text

Changed

*not my gif

Summary: Spencer gets out of jail and reunites with Y/N but is afraid he has changed too much.

Warnings: crying, angst, mentions of prison, mentions of injury (very minor)

words: 2.4 K

Pairing: Spencer Reid X Gn!Reader

A/N: its been a while so I thought I would write a single chapter thing to please the people. if anyone has any cool ideas for another single or even a multichap lmk, I would be happy to oblige.

*I do not own any CM characters.

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

I scurried around Spencer and I’s apartment hastily grabbing his old satchel and tossing a jacket into it. Even since he left for prison this was the only bag I would use, no matter how many things I had to carry I would only use his satchel. It was just a way for me to be with him even if I couldn’t really be with him. The first visit anyone from the team had with him he made them promise that they wouldn't let me go see him. He said he would call me when he could, and he did, or tried too, but after a week the calls stopped. JJ assured me that he was okay, she continued to see him once a week and would always call me and update me every chance she got, but it just wasn't enough. I needed to see him.

So today, I woke up. I called the prison to let them know I would be visiting, and I packed up to leave. I was more nervous today than I was on the day he was put in there. That day I was so confident that he would be fine, I thought it was a cut and dry thing and he would be home for dinner that night, but he wasn't. Just as I put my hand on the doorknob to leave I heard a ring come from my phone inside Spencer's satchel. I looked down at it to see a picture of JJ holding Henry lighting up my screen in the dark of my apartment.

“JJ, hi, I was about to call you actually, well sort of, i'm on my way to see Spence and I know he didn't want me to come, but I think I have a way to get him out of there and I just need to be the one to tell him you know?”

She was silent on the other end for a second before taking a very deep breath.

“Y/N, he's here.”

“What do you mean he's here, are you at the prison?”

“No, Y/N, he’s at the BAU, he's been out for a day”

Right away my mind went to all sorts of places I knew it shouldn't.

“Why didn't anyone tell me! What, does he not want to see me! Is he even okay?” I was screaming into the phone even though I knew it wasn't fair to her. Whatever this was, it wasn't JJ’s fault.

“Hey, hey! Don't go there, it wasn't like that I promise. As soon as we got him out we had to throw him into a case, he wanted to call you I promise but, Y/N, it was about Cat.”

“He was out for less than a day and that bitch tried to take him away from me again? Where is he, he couldn't have called me?”

“It wasn't just about Cat, it was about his mom, listen she's fine now, everything’s okay, but I need you to come get him from the BAU. he needs you to take him home. He needs you”

“I’m on my way”

It was those last three words that got me out of my head. Who was I to be angry at him when poor Spence had gone through so much. Still with his satchel on my shoulder I finally left our small apartment. Barely moved into before he was taken from me so abruptly. It just wasn't fair, the universe had it out for him I swear, first his mom gets sick, and then when he goes to help her he’s almost killed, and then he was convicted for something we all know he would never in a million years do, he won't even tell me what happened in there because it was so bad, and then he finally gets out, unbeknownst to me, is thrown into a case before he can even call, has to go back to that horrible women who tears him apart. Even just thinking about it makes me cry for him. He didn't deserve any of it.

I wipe a few stray tears from my eyes as I step into the car and put his satchel on the passenger's side of the car. I look up at the picture of him I placed on the console and place it back in my bag, ever so ready to replace it with the real thing.

“I'm coming Spence”

~~~~~~~~~

The drive from our apartment to the BAU is particularly long, but it seemed even shorter to me this time. Maybe I was speeding, who knows, but I was almost surprised when suddenly I found myself in the parking garage outside of their buildings, as if my brain had decided it wasn’t important to focus on driving when there was something more important to come.

I grabbed the brown satchel and threw it on my shoulder before running into the elevator and frantically pressing the level six button repeatedly. Spencer's voice in my head chuckled, you know that wont make it go faster, right? He's so close. I couldn't help the tears that started to fall again as I took shaky breaths to calm myself. I didn't know what sort of pain he was in right now, and it wouldn't be fair of me to make him have to take care of me. I wiped them off again as the elevator stopped on floor six. I waited impatiently for the doors to open and tears started again no matter how hard I wanted them to stop. And then the doors opened.

It was like I was seeing him for the first time all over again. He had obviously heard the elevator ding and began walking towards it as the doors were opening slowly. So when, finally, the doors were opened all the way he was facing me, battered and bruised and opening up the glass doors I had seen him behind many times before. I was frozen as I looked at him. He was there, he was my Spencer but, different. I took one step out of the elevator before I just stopped breathing all together,. He walked toward me still with the whole team behind him, sorry looks on their faces. I finally unfroze and ran the distance to him, throwing myself into his arms. It startled him and he flinched but wrapped his arms around me automatically.

“It's you,” I said in between sobs and he nestled his head into my neck.

“Its me”

I continued to cry as he held me. When I finally lifted my head from his shoulder I looked at his team, who were staring lovingly back at me. I looked at all of them and mouthed; thank you, before pulling back from Spencer to kiss him. His lips were chapped and mine were salty. But the love that he put into that kiss was more than I had ever felt from him. When we finally broke apart I clung to him as we walked into the elevator. The entire interaction was about ten minutes, all of which were just me crying as he held me. Ten minutes seemed like a lifetime to me.

In the elevator he was silent. He looked down at the floor, obviously deep in thought and I just started at him. The more I looked the more worried I became. For each second I looked at him I saw one more cut, one more bruise, one more scar that wasn't there the last time I saw him. Even though he didn't look up at me or even speak at all, he put a hand on the crook of my elbow like he always used to and held it tight for the entire walk back to the car. He still had a slight limp from the incident last week. It served as yet another reminder to me that the Spencer I’m with right now is not the same Spencer that i knew before.

The drive home again felt short. He never spoke and neither did I, but I could feel his gaze on me as I drove, just trying to tell if I was really there. When we made it up the stairs to our apartment door he stood behind me and stared at the door. When I opened it with my keys and held it open for him he shook his head quickly as if trying to wake himself up from something and then finally walked inside. Every move he made was like he was afraid of hurting himself or me.

“Go sit, i'll make you something to eat”

I wasn't going to say it for fear of sounding like a grandmother, but he looked very thin. I mean I love my string bean boyfriend don't get me wrong, but this wasn't healthy.

I reheated him some Rossi pasta leftovers that I knew he would love before placing it in front of him at the counter. I sat on a stool beside him and got a comb to work through his hair. He ate tentatively but seemed to relax as I brushed through his hair. The comb did nothing so eventually I just worked my fingers through his curly locks, trying to bring more comfort than fix it.

That entire night we didn't speak at all. Well, he didn't. Every once in a while I would talk to him, just one sided things, i'll go clean up, why don't you get changed, let’s go to bed. And finally when we laid in bed I moved all the way onto his side and tried to have as much of me touching him as possible. He touched my back carefully, like he was afraid of breaking me. Eventually I fell asleep, but I don't know if he ever did. At some point I suppose he must have because he woke me up screaming. Rocking himself back and forth with glassy eyes and heaving.

“Spence? Spencer, you're okay! Look at me hey,-” I moved so that I was sitting in front of him but was careful not to touch him.

“You're okay, i'm right here, it’s okay” the screaming stopped but the glassy look in his eyes stayed and he still cried and rocked back and forth. He looked so..pained. After he had stopped screaming I placed a tentative hand on his arm careful to do it slowly so I wouldn't startle him. He flinched and looked at me with terrified eyes.

“Don’t, please, don’t.” I took my hand away but started to cry.

“Spencer, you aren't going to hurt me, it's okay.” he shook his head and looked almost angry through his tears.

“You don't. You don't know that.” so that's what this was about.

“Of course I do. I know you, and you would never hurt me, I know that.” I was crying but trying to keep myself calm so i wouldn't startle him.

“Do you know what I did today?” he raised his voice a little and his eyebrows pulled together.

“Did JJ tell you that she had to pull me off of Cat?” i could feel my heart breaking into pieces, he wasn't just scared of hurting me for nothing, he had actually hurt someone.

“Did she tell you that I put my hands around her neck and shoved her against a wall? Did she tell you that I wanted to- no, that I would have killed her. If she wasn’t there to pull me off I would have killed someone. Did she tell you that?”

I sat there in shock not knowing what to say. She hadn't told me.

“Spencer you had good reason, anyone who’s been through what you have would-”

“Would what? Kill someone?”

“Spencer I know you wouldn't hurt me!”

“No, you don’t! Prison changed me, Y/N, i'm not the person you loved anymore!”

“Don't you dare say that! I love you Spencer! I love you now and I loved you then, you are the same person that I loved!”

“No. no i’m not. The Spencer that you fell in love with would never have done that. Would never have done this.”

He gestured to me, we were both crying fervently, covered in salty tears and snot. I was still sitting in front of him on the bed.

“Don't tell me that it didn't change me. It did. It did change me.”

“Fine. it changed you. It also changed me. And you know how it changed us both?” I looked him dead in the eyes and placed a hand on his cheek wiping away a few tears.

“It made you more compassionate. More observant. It made you even more.. You. and it only made me love this new you more. So yes, yes it changed you, but that doesn’t mean I don't love you, that doesn't mean you are suddenly less deserving of love! I love you Spencer Reid, and I won't stop doing that just because you went through hell! You got out! And I am here! So why don't you just shut up and let me love you!”

He was silent for a couple of minutes after. We had both stopped crying. He placed a hand on my cheek just like mine was on his and looked me in the eyes with a small smile.

“Well, what's that for” I was still crying a little but when I heard him chuckle it took all of my tears away.

“Well, you told me to shut up and let you love me, so that's what I'm doing.”

he laughed a little, but bit his lip after he said it, trying to make himself stop laughing. But as soon as he said it I started laughing. The both of us laughed at each other. Snot covered and torn apart, but somehow still laughing.

“You know, I threw a book today” he laughed and pulled me into his chest where I looked up at him.

“A book? My goodness, maybe you aren't the same man after all!” I laughed at him and he shook his head as he smiled down at me.

“Nah, same man, I felt really bad afterword and made Garcia order another copy”

We both laughed and he kissed the top of my head. He slid down so we were both laying down in bed again. After a few minutes I noticed that his breathing was slow and steady. He was asleep. Peacefully asleep. I looked at him from his chest and with a small tear on my face kissed him on the cheek.

“I love you Spencer Reid. Always”

#spencer reid #Spencerreid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid angst #spencer reid x reader #gn!reader #oneshot #Criminal Minds #david rossi #jj #Jennifer Jareau #prison #angst #fluff #spencer reid fluff

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artificialqueens · 3 years

Text

Ever in Your Favor, Chapter Eight [FINAL] (Rosnali) - Athena2

Summary: Rosé and Denali deal with the aftermath of the Games, and finally go home.

A/N: Writing this fic has been a wild ride honestly. I'm so glad I stuck with it because it's become one of my favorite multichaps I've done. Thank you so much to everyone who read along and stuck with me and this fic, your comments and support really do mean a lot to me. I really hope you enjoy this ending, and please leave feedback if you'd like!

Rosé throws the berries aside, wiping her mouth clean. “Are you okay?” she asks Denali, immediately going to her side.

“Yeah.” Denali is pale and shaky, probably from stress, but she lost a lot of blood from the wolf bite, and her leg can’t hold her weight. She needs a doctor.

The hovercraft roars overhead, rustling the trees as two ladders drop down. Denali takes one step and whimpers in pain.

“I got you,” Rosé soothes. She scoops Denali up and carries her to the ladder, holding on tight as they’re pulled up. They’re out of the arena. They’re out and they should never have to go back. Rosé just hopes the bad things will stay there, that they won’t follow her into her dreams.

The inside of the hovercraft is like a miniature hospital, with doctors and nurses and medical equipment waiting. They rush over, hands reaching out to take Denali away from her, but Rosé flinches back and holds her tighter, shielding her from the doctors. She doesn’t trust them, she doesn’t trust anyone but Denali, she can’t let them take her. She fought tributes and wolves, and she’ll fight them too. But Denali’s eyes are fluttering closed, body going limp in Rosé’s arms, and she has no choice but to let them take Denali behind a metal door, hoping they can fix her.

Rosé tries to follow them, but someone helps her into a chair, a pristine white one that looks so wrong beside the blood and dirt staining her hands and shredded clothes. She didn’t sit out here last time--her shoulder bled so much they had taken her behind the same metal door as Denali. Someone hands her water in a glass so clear she can see the reflection of her own terrified eyes, and she sets it down with shaking hands, not wanting to see, not trusting who gave it to her.

“Is Denali gonna be okay?” Her voice is a scratchy whisper, and she tries again, louder, but no one answers.

It’s so cold in the hovercraft that her teeth are chattering, and the stitches in her leg itch so bad it burns. Denali told her not to scratch at them and she doesn’t want to let her down, not when she’s behind that door and might not be okay. It’s like a bargain with herself, that if she doesn’t scratch them, if she listens to Denali, Denali will be okay.

The adrenaline has faded, and all she feels the heavy ache of her body. All she can think about is how defeated she was after the announcement, so much that she almost gave up. How she’s grateful she’s still here. How Denali loves her, loves her and means it, how it might be for nothing if Denali isn’t okay. Rosé needs her to be okay. She can’t have gone through the whole arena, all her feelings, and dreamt of a future with Denali for it to be ripped away now. She’s shaking, and her eyes sting but her body doesn’t have any tears left. Her body doesn’t have much of anything left, and she’s so tired, but she can’t fall asleep and leave Denali. The Capitol hospital is below them, and she’s asking about Denali again when there’s a needle in her arm, and everything goes dark.

---

Denali blinks through the fog and sees nothing but pure white--the ceiling, the walls, the bed sheets, all so bright it burns her eyes. There are tubes in her arm and wires across her chest, and antiseptic stings in her nose. How long has she been here? Where is here?

“Denali? It’s okay, you’re okay, I promise. You’re in the hospital in the Capitol. It’s been four days since the Games.”

Denali follows the familiar voice and finds that she’s not alone. Rosé is in a chair beside the bed, clothes rumpled and bags under her eyes, and just the sight of her, of someone from home, calms Denali immediately, lets her take a breath.

She’s in the hospital. It’s been four days. Four days since she staggered to the hovercraft and collapsed on the floor, her knee a bloody mess--

“My knee,” she croaks.

“Your knee is fine. They fixed it,” Rosé says calmly.

Denali nods, trying to hide her yawn. She’s been sleeping for days, and Rosé is here, has probably been here a while from the sight of her. She’s here just for Denali, and Denali doesn’t want to let her down by sleeping.

“Denali, go to sleep,” Rosé says, because of course she noticed. “I’ll be here. It took an hour to convince them to let me in, I’m not going anywhere.”

Denali doesn’t even nod before she’s asleep again.

Denali wakes up in a white room.

But this time, she’s completely alone.

---

It’s three times before Denali can stay awake longer than a minute. The third time, when she finally breaks past the cloud of sleep and whatever drugs they’re giving her, she sees that nothing has changed. She’s still stuck in this bed in a locked white room. She has no idea how long it’s been, and there’s no one to tell her. She thinks of last time, how Rosé had told her the information quickly, instinctively. Because Rosé had lived through that fear herself, Denali understands now. Because Rosé didn’t have a mentor, and woke up scared and alone with no one to help her, and didn’t want the same thing to happen to Denali.

Where is Rosé now? Is she in another room, stuck in bed like Denali? What if the Capitol really will only allow one victor and they’ve taken her somewhere, to hurt her and then kill her?

The worst part of waking up fully means she can think fully, and her brain runs through a hundred ways the Capitol could be hurting Rosé. She forces herself to think of something else, but the only alternative is the last few minutes in the arena—her feelings for Rosé crashing into her all at once, Rosé baring her soul, her heart, to Denali, willing to give herself up so Denali could live. But they both made it out, they both have to live. Denali can’t lose her, not when she loves her so much.

The creaking door cuts through her thoughts, and Denali sees a nurse. She hasn’t been awake to see anyone yet, and maybe she can get information. The nurse looks--kind. Denali isn’t used to seeing that in the Capitol.

“Ro--” Denali’s voice cracks, and the nurse gently holds water to her lips. “Rosé. The woman who came with me. Is she…”

The nurse hesitates, then leans down, pretending to adjust a wire stuck to Denali’s chest. “She’s okay.”

It’s enough.

---

Rosé sighs, leaning back against the pillow. The bed is as soft as the one in the Training Center, but she’d rather sleep on the ground than be stuck in it. She asks about Denali to every nurse she sees, but none answer her. Is the glimpse of Denali being carried away the last image Rosé will have of her? She has to be okay, she has to be. Denali is probably the toughest person she knows, and the doctors should have been able to fix her leg. They fixed Rosé’s perfectly--no cut, no scar, just clear skin. All Denali’s work, the paste she laid on it everyday, the bandages she wrapped it with, the lines of the stitches to hold it together, all gone. All her other injuries--cuts and scratches and bruises--are gone too, erased by the Capitol's advanced medical treatments. No physical proof that the Games even happened. Rosé carries all the proof inside her instead.

The door opens, and Rosé sits up, prepared to ask about Denali again. But she doesn’t need to ask.

Because Denali is here.

She’s in a wheelchair, pushed by a nurse Rosé’s never seen before. Denali’s pale, eyes tired and dull, but her dimples flash as she’s wheeled next to Rosé, immediately reaching her hand out.

“Rosie,” Denali breathes. “You’re okay. I--I wasn’t sure.”

“I’m okay,” Rosé says, giddy with relief.

Rosé squeezes her hand tight, tracing her soft skin, the smooth lines of her fingers, so clean and polished after the doctors’s work, but Denali’s hand nonetheless. A hand that fires a bow better than anyone and had held Rosé’s when she needed it.

“Thank you,” Rosé tells the nurse.

She just nods. “I can get you ten minutes.”

Rosé takes it, takes every second to just be with Denali, holding her hand and breathing her in. After this, they’ll have their whole lives.

---

Before they can go home, there’s the interview. And of course, the small matter of what to wear.

“Symone, don’t you think this is a little...excessive?” Denali asks. She can’t even sit on the couch in the dressing room because it’s entirely draped in fabric. She and Rosé are backed into a corner, surrendering to rows of clothing racks.

“This is the first time anyone’s dressed two tributes for the post-Games interview,” Symone says, looking up from her sketchbook. “You have to look perfect, especially because everyone loves you even more now.”

Symone is right. All eyes will be on them for this interview, to watch the tributes who made history. She and Rosé didn’t hear anything from the outside when they were in the hospital, but according to Symone, people love their relationship so much, love how they both fought to come home, that even the Capitol is going along with it. They’ve spoken of their ‘ingenuity’ and ‘determination’, because admitting two tributes outsmarted them makes them look like idiots. Symone’s heard whispers that Denali and Rosé have given hope to the districts, shown that the Games can be outsmarted, maybe even defeated. The fear of retaliation still lingers in Denali’s mind, but the Capitol can’t do anything to them--not without starting a riot or admitting that they were defeated by two women from District 12, the lowest of the low. They’re safe, and it’s something Denali hasn’t felt since she was a kid.

Rosé smiles. “And here I thought all this was an excuse to have us try on ugly clothes.”

Symone raises an eyebrow. “Well, maybe that was part of it.”

True to her word, Symone sends them behind the screen loaded with feathers and glitter, with sweeping boas and oversized hats. Denali gives into it, lets the joy fill her. She teases Rosé after she stumbles out in a pair of heels she put on backward, and all three of them laugh until they cry when Denali gets stuck in a pair of thigh-high boots.

When Symone finally shows them her sketches, eyes shining with the excitement of what she’s going to create, Denali just hugs her.

---

Rosé paces her dressing room while she waits for Denali. Symone insisted on them getting dressed in separate rooms, so they can be surprised when they see each other, but Rosé just wishes she were here. The thought of all the lights and noises and people, after such quiet and emptiness in the arena, is making Rosé nervous. But at least she won’t be alone.

She fiddles with the buttons of her jacket. Symone made her a suit, coal-black with tiny gold sparkles woven into it, picking up the color of her lion pin. It’s buttery against her skin, her armor for the night, probably her favorite thing she’s ever worn.

The door opens, and Rosé’s jaw drops.

Denali is in a soft dress that hugs all her muscles and curves. It’s the same coal-black as Rosé’s, with gold sparkles, and Symone made Denali a pin--a fox affixed to a circle bordered in forget-me-nots. They never got her mom’s necklace, and Rosé is grateful Denali at least has this.

“You look amazing,” Rosé says, her heart fluttering.

“You clean up pretty nice yourself.” Denali smirks, tracing her hands up Rosé’s arms.

Rosé turns to Symone, who looks like a goddess in white and gold. “Thank you, Symone.”

“For everything,” Denali adds.

Symone wipes her tears and pulls them into a hug, waving goodbye as they walk to the stage.

“Rosé?” Denali holds out her arm, and Rosé takes it. The wolf tore through Denali’s muscles and tendons, and though everything is fixed, she’s still a little unsteady on her feet. Rosé doesn’t let her fall as they cross the stage, and she’s grateful for the touch herself. It’s grounding against the roar of the crowd and the blinding lights.

There’s a couch on stage instead of a single chair, and Nina bounces in her seat as they sit down, speeding through small talk and jokes.

“I think I speak for everyone when I say that was quite a Games you two had! Was there a moment you really felt you could win it?”

Rosé gives Denali a nod, signaling that she’ll answer. “Well, I think we knew we had a good shot from the start. Our skills balance each other out, and we worked so well together in training. When they announced a team could win, we knew we had an even better chance, because of how strong we are together.”

Nina nods. “And I’m sure your relationship helped.”

“It sure did,” Denali says. “It helped us trust each other and it was just so nice to have a partner in the arena. It really helped.”

“There’s never been a finale like that in history,” Nina says. “What was going through your mind in that moment?”

And Rosé falters, her cheerful answers coming to a grinding halt. She and Denali haven't seen reason to talk about it, to dig at a fresh wound. They were both there, they know what they felt. Rosé didn’t think she’d have to discuss it with the world watching. She doesn’t want to talk about it. About how she broke down and cried in the arena, one thing she never wanted to do. About how she wanted to go home, but wouldn’t have been able to live with killing Denali. About how helpless it made her feel, how scared, how angry.

Denali squeezes her hand. “We were both pretty shocked. We weren’t expecting a rule change like that,” Denali says, and Nina nods sympathetically. “But I also knew how much I loved Rosé. I didn’t want to lose her, and I just couldn’t kill her. Not when I cared about her so much, you know? The berries were all I could think of to get us both home. And when we do get home, we’re gonna get an earful from Rosé’s sisters, let me tell you.”

Denali’s answer is perfect, Rosé knows. She just touched on the surprise of the rule change without directly blaming the Capitol, drawing real sympathy, then turned the focus to her love, not a hint of gloating for her brilliant idea. It’s perfect, and it’s enough for Nina, who moves on. By the time they walk off stage to thunderous applause, Rosé feels like she went another round in the arena.

They follow the same pattern for their Victory Tour: taking turns answering questions, joking and smiling, pretending everything is fine, that they don’t still think about the people they killed in the arena. People look at them with hope, with belief in a brighter future, and though it’s nice, Rosé is glad when they finish, when they’re free to go home and not act okay all the time.

“I’m glad that’s over.” Denali sighs beside her.

Rosé nods. “Let’s go home.”

---

It’s a quiet train ride. But it’s a peaceful, content quiet, not the tense silence they sat in on the way here. They sit next to each other, hands brushing on the seat, eating donuts and watching the world outside the window.

Rosé senses District 12 growing closer, sees the landscape change to rocky terrain, feels the coal dust in the air. Her leg bounces with excitement, but also something else. Something like fear.

It’s hard to go home after the arena. It’s so isolated, practically another planet, and the only rule is not to die. For weeks after she got back, Rosé was afraid to close her eyes, fearing someone would kill her in her sleep. She flinched when someone got close to her, hand automatically reaching for the sword that was no longer at her hip. There were smaller things too, like feeling out of place around people, out of place in her own life, dropped back into things after months away. She was lucky her family was there, that they didn’t give up on her. Even with their support, she still struggled. What if things are worse this time, and they give up? What if they’re so disgusted by what she did in the arena that they don’t want her around? What if the arena changed her in ways she didn’t want it to and her sisters won’t recognize her?

“Are you nervous to go home?” Denali asks quietly, like she read her mind.

Normally Rosé would keep it inside, push it down and pretend it’s not there, because she doesn’t want anyone to worry about her. But she’s with the only other person who knows that fear, and Rosé trusts her.

“It’s just...you know how it is. How weird it is to be home after everything. What if it doesn’t feel like home anymore?”

What if the arena has made such a home inside her that District 12 will be a stranger?

“I get it,” Denali says, pausing in thought. “You know, last time I kept getting lost in the woods after I got back. I went in those woods every day for ten years, and suddenly I kept taking wrong turns. I got used to it again, but I found new paths too. And I always found my way back.” She takes a breath. “So maybe it'll be weird at first. Maybe you’ll get lost. But I think you’ll find your way back.”

The words wash over her, smoothing out the knot in her stomach. “Thank you,” Rosé whispers. She manages a smile. “That was quite a speech.”

Denali shrugs, but she’s grinning. “I learned from the best.”

Denali holds her hand as they get off the train, but when they step on the platform, she lets go and gives Rosé a gentle push towards the two people waiting for her. Jan and Lagoona’s arms open up, and Rosé falls into them. She can’t think, can’t speak--there are no words. She just lets them hold her.

“We would've been on time, but Little Miss Donut got so excited she started peeing all over the place.”

Rosé lifts her head off Lagoona’s chest and sees Kahmora and Kandy, who’s struggling with a dog, walk to Denali. The dog jumps out of Kandy’s arms and into Denali’s, and Rosé just laughs. She’s glad they came to see Denali, glad she has someone to hug too.

Jan pulls away, mischievous gleam in her eyes the same as when she was five and tried to hide a stray cat in her bedroom. “So…” she begins.

“So?” Rosé asks, straight-faced, making her work for it.

“Give us the story! When did you realize you liked her? What did you say to her on the train? What did she say back? When did she realize she liked you? And what was in those damn donuts that made your stubborn ass talk about your feelings with her?” Jan demands, eyes as wide as dinner plates.

“And we want to hear about that kiss. It was so hot I would’ve covered my kid’s eyes if I had a kid,” Lagoona adds.

“Oooh, Lagoona wants to have a kid by the way, her boyfriend was really supportive during the Games stuff and she thinks he’d be a good dad--”

“Why are you telling my stories?” Lagoona asks. “I didn’t tell that you’re in love with that woman you talked to for five minutes--”

“I’m not in love with Jackie! It’s just a crush!”

“Rosé and Denali had crushes too, and we know how that ended.”

All Rosé can do is laugh. It makes her head spin, makes her a little sad to know she’s missed two months of her sisters’ lives, but it also makes her feel safe. Her sisters clearly don’t think any less of her, don’t plan to treat her any differently or love her any less, and she’ll answer every question they have, because she loves them.

---

Denali wakes up in her bed for the first time in two months. The bow is still at her feet, but her grip on the knife loosened in the night. The bed’s not as soft as the ones in the Capitol, but miles away from the ground in the arena. She’ll get used to it eventually.

She heads to the kitchen to get things ready for breakfast with Rosé. After the stress and intensity of the arena, they decided to take things slow at home, and breakfast this morning is their first official date. Denali bought new coffee mugs with her prize money, including a pink one just for Rosé, and she fills it with a spoon of cream and two spoons of sugar.

The doorbell rings, and Donut’s paws pound on the floor. Denali opens the door, keeping Donut behind her leg, and she can’t help but smile when she sees Rosé. She doesn’t look like she slept much, but some color is back in her cheeks, and it’s almost like seeing her for the first time.

“Good morning.”

“Morning,” Rosé says cheerfully.

Donut yips inquisitively and peeks her head out from behind Denali, creeping over to Rosé, who leans down and lets Donut sniff her cautiously.

“Her name is Donut. No one’s ever here besides me, so she’s not great with—“

Rosé grunts as Donut leaps on her chest, wagging her tail and licking at Rosé’s face.

“—People,” Denali finishes, smiling as Rosé gently pets Donut’s back, unsure at first, but growing more confident. “She really likes you. I’ve never seen her do that with anyone.”

“Maybe I just smell good,” Rosé says, but Denali can tell how excited she is that Donut approves of her.

“You do smell good,” Denali mumbles. Like a gentle hint of lavender.

Rosé smirks, following Denali to the kitchen table and sighing in joy when she sips her coffee. Denali brings over pancakes--on new plates--and they dig in. It's awkward at first, the silence a little too long to feel comfortable, and Denali worries that maybe they can’t do this outside the arena. Can their relationship live when the arena partly created it? But Rosé talks about what her sisters did last night, about how she almost tripped in her shower this morning, and things fall back into place. Pretty soon, they’re laughing like they did when they were kids, and Denali knows this can work.

---

“Now, Denali, are you ready to learn from a master?”

“I think I’d take you more seriously if you weren’t wearing a polka dot apron.”

Rosé crosses her arms and glares, but Denali can’t help it. There’s something about her red hair pulled back in a ponytail, about the pink-and-white polka dot apron covering her black T-shirt, that makes Denali want to laugh and kiss her at the same time.

“That would look intimidating without the apron,” Denali says, watching Rosé’s glare melt into a smile as she laughs.

“We’ll see who’s laughing when you have flour and butter all over you and I’m nice and clean,” Rosé teases.

They’re in the back of the bakery, and Rosé is showing Denali how to make a cake. Denali was always mesmerized by the cakes in the window as a kid--hell, she still is now. Denali has steady hands, can do just about anything with her bow, but she can’t imagine making such beautiful cakes with nothing but frosting.

Rosé shows her how to beat the butter and sugar, marveling at the pale yellow. She pouts and calls Rosé a showoff after she cracks eggs one-handed, only to gasp when Rosé’s hand carefully curls around hers and shows her how to do it. They measure the dry ingredients, and Denali, true to Rosé’s word, gets flour all over her shirt. Denali loses herself in the steady motions of the mixer, watching it smooth everything into cake batter. They wash up while it bakes, wordlessly passing measuring cups and spoons back and forth, their hips and shoulders gently bumping into each other.

When it’s time to decorate, Denali just sits back and watches. Rosé’s grip around the piping bag is light, squeezing out little blobs of blue icing. Denali pictures those same hands gripping a sword so strongly, so fiercely. She pictures Rosé swinging it, the spray of blood that follows--

She takes a breath and blinks, forcing it away. She’s safe and in the bakery, not in the arena. There’s no blood. They both hate all the killing they’ve had to do, the blood they’ve shed. But those things aren’t the only things they’ve done. Their hands can pick flowers and decorate cakes as well as kill, and maybe it’s what they want to do that matters. What they choose to do.

Rosé is self-conscious at first, eyes flashing to Denali over and over. She’s probably never had anyone besides family watch her, but she quickly relaxes, loses herself in the movements. Denali’s heart melts at the focus in her eyes, the way her tongue sticks out a little, the way her nose scrunches, loving all the new parts of Rosé she gets to see. Once the top is covered in flowers--blue and purple and pink and yellow--they cut it up, laughing when they go back for seconds at the same time.

---

“I really hope this view is worth me being up this early,” Rosé mutters, trudging through the woods behind Denali.

“It is, trust me.”

Rosé just nods. She’s had a rough few days. She did so well right after she got back, distracted by days catching up with her sisters, meeting with Denali. But it’s been a few months now, and that peace wouldn’t hold forever. She’s been tired and jumpy and irritable this week, even if she didn’t want to be. Part of her was afraid that the bad days would scare Denali off, but they haven’t. Because Denali understands.

They both knew a relationship wouldn’t be an instant cure, wouldn’t magically heal them. But it helps. It helps that when Rosé can’t leave the house, Denali comes over to check on her and makes sure she eats. It helps that when Denali’s leg hurts and she's gasping in fear, convinced her leg is damaged, Rosé tells her it’s not and massages out the aches. It helps that on days when they're haunted by nightmares and memories, they have someone to talk to, someone to prove they're not alone in what they feel.

Rosé felt better today, and agreed to go walk with Denali, to see the autumn leaves in early sunlight. Denali moves with the same effortless skill she did in the arena, knowing just which way to turn, which path to take. Rosé will always be in awe of how she does it, casually pointing out the flowers and leaves they pass and teling Rosé all about them.

“--and this is the milkweed plant, butterflies like to eat it--what?” Denali asks, and Rosé realizes she’s staring at her with a huge smile on her face.

“I just--I love you,” Rosé says. She loved Denali in the arena--loved her before that, if she really admits it--but she loves the Denali she’s come to know at home. The Denali who rolls around on the floor when she plays with Donut. Who burrows into oversized sweaters and tucks her hands inside the sleeves. Who laughs more and more, her eyes crinkling when she does.

“I love you too,” Denali says. It’s the first time they’ve said it outside the arena, on their own, and it fills Rosé with warmth. Denali offers her hand. “Come on, we’re here.”

Rosé takes her hand and lets Denali lead her down into a valley of gold. The trees around them glimmer with reds and oranges and yellows, the bright morning sun making everything shine. It’s a brilliant reminder that she’s alive, that she’s still here to see things like this. The arena feels like a distant memory, and her home is right here, with Denali.

“Told you it’d be worth it.”

“It is.” Rosé watches the sun dance at the edges of Denali’s hair. “Denali, can I kiss you?”

“Of course.”

It’s the first kiss on their own, with no cameras. A first kiss without the danger of the arena, or the pressure of needing it to survive. A kiss that’s entirely theirs.

---

Snow flutters to the ground as December begins, but Rosé doesn’t mind the cold. It’s warm enough in her house. Jan, Lagoona, Kandy, and Kahmora--they’d become friendly and supported each other watching the Games--came up with the idea for a weekly dinner, as long as Rosé and Denali are feeling up to it. They both were today, and it’s extra special because Jan brought Jackie, who she’s officially dating, and Lagoona and her boyfriend have news. Rosé’s pretty sure she knows what it is, but she’ll let them tell it.

Rosé spent the day making a chocolate sweet bread for dessert. It’s been years since she lost herself in baking like that. Denali helped, but she really just watched and ate chocolate. Everyone devours it and praises her, and it it feels good, to be loved.

Lagoona looks up from her coffee and Rosé sees that look in her eyes and she knows, she knows, and she’s already out of her seat to hug her when Lagoona announces that she’s pregnant.

Rosé’s eyes are damp, but the tears really fall when Lagoona grabs her hands and says that if it’s a girl, they’re naming her Rosie.

---

Denali sticks around to help with the dishes, enjoying the easy silence with Rosé. They finish much too quickly, and Denali suddenly realizes she doesn’t want to make the thirty-second walk back to her house. After all the laughs and love at dinner, she doesn’t want to be alone tonight.

“Everything okay?” Rosé asks.

Denali hesitates. “Um, can--can I stay here tonight? I...home seems too quiet, you know?”

“Of course,” Rosé says, and Denali knows she understands. “I have a guest room, if you--”

Denali blushes, but she trusts Rosé enough for what she wants to ask. “Can I stay in your bed? If that’s okay?”

Rosé blushes too. “It’s okay.”

Rosé cackles when her pajamas are a little big on Denali, and Denali just whacks her with a too-long sleeve. Denali slips beneath the sheets, and realizes that not only is she sleeping with someone next to her, but she doesn’t have her bow. She has a knife--always has at least one--but no bow. What if she needs it? What if something bad happens, and she’s defenseless? But Rosé is warm and comforting next to her, and Denali feels...safe. She felt safe with Rosé in the arena, and she feels safe with her now. She sets the knife on the nightstand, still within reach, and falls asleep.

---

Denali wakes with the sun like she always does. Rosé is still asleep, curled up on her side just inches from Denali, and her heart warms at Rosé looking so peaceful. Neither of them had a nightmare, and Denali is grateful. Maybe they can heal eventually. Maybe the heaviness in their chests, the weights on their minds, will eventually lighten so much it won’t hurt.

By this time, Denali normally would have memorized the footage of the latest Games, and thought of strategies for the new tributes she’d have to mentor. But she hasn’t watched a second of any Games since she got home. Maybe she doesn’t have to fight the Games--fight the whole world--tooth and nail, doesn’t have to keep running to stay ahead of them. Maybe she can beat them, can be okay, without that. She takes another peek at Rosé, at the smooth lines of her face, the soft red waves framing her cheeks. At least she won’t have to do it alone.

Denali snuggles back down, wincing when her movement wakes Rosé, who gives her a sleepy smile.

"Sorry," Denali whispers. "Didn't mean to wake you."

"It's okay." Rosé motions for Denali to come closer, and Denali does, turning her back on her knife and resting her head on Rosé's chest.

"You're pretty comfy," she teases.

Rosé just grins. "I think today is gonna be a good day," she says, and Denali nods, melting into Rosé's arms. She's hopeful today, more than she's been in a while. There were the whispers Jackie shared last night, of hope through the districts. There was Lagoona’s news, the excitement of knowing the future can be brighter. Denali wants that future, wants it with Rosé. She wants to be there for good days and bad days, the happy parts of Rosé and the sad parts of her too. They're alive, still here through it, and Denali wants to live, wants to watch the sun and eat cake and play in the snow, take every good second she gets.

Maybe there will come a day when the Games are gone, when kids won’t live in fear of getting chosen. When what happened to them won’t happen to anyone else. The odds are pretty low, Denali knows.

But she’s beaten worse odds before.

#rpdr fanfiction #denali foxx #rosé #rosnali #s13 #jan sport #lagoona bloo #kahmora hall #kandy muse #lesbian au #hunger games au #fluff #hurt/comfort #ever in your favor #athena2 #tw medical stuff #tw blood #concrit welcome

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envythepalmtree · 3 years

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writer tag game

Tagged by @lilisky!!

how many works do you have on ao3? Seven! All one-shots so far, but I'm in the middle of a multichap so that'll change soon what’s your total ao3 word count? 6948 what’s your top 5 fics by kudos? Dumplings, caught in the undertow, Fires and Fountains, so I throw stones at walls I'll never climb, and 'cause I could never set you free. so I throw stones is an FMA fic, the rest are ATLA. Funnily enough it's so I throw stones and never set you free that I'm the most proud of, in terms of ideas and craft and stuff. I think the reason it's ordered the way it is is because the first 3 are more popular ships, Kyoshi x Rangi and Mai x Zuko from Avatar.

do you reply to comments? Yes! Often not right away, but I do try to reply to all of them.

what’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending? Either 'cause I could never set you free (ATLA, Mai/Tylee) or so I throw stones at walls I'll never climb (FMA, gen).

what’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending? Dumplings (ATLA, Kyoshi/Rangi)

do you write crossovers? Once I'm finished with my current wips maybe I will write a little Owari No Seraph/FMA crossover. We'll see.

have you received hate on a fic? No

do you write smut? No

have u ever had a fic stolen? No lol

have you ever had a fic translated? No, I wish haha! I'm trying to get better at Chinese so maybe when I've read more prose I'll try translating my own or other people's.

have you ever co-written a fic before? Yes, but when I was very young. I'd love to try it again now that I'm much better at writing.

what’s your all-time favorite ship? i am not a ship person BUT i do love me some catradora and edwin. unfortunately i cannot write them well 😔

what’s a WIP you want to finish but don’t think you ever will? syd I'm with you, I'm gonna try and finish everything I want to

what are your writing strengths? I'm really good at nonlinear storytelling and jumping around time. I also like to think I'm good at working with themes and imagery!

what are your writing weaknesses? I love my section breaks but sometimes I read over my stories and go dang I really need to combine some of these. Also it's pretty hard for me to strike a balance between showing and telling - sometimes I'll be Telling everything to the point it gets boring and sometimes I try to imply too much when it's better off being outright stated.

what are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic? Writing things in Xingese/Chinese and providing a glossary in the author's notes my beloved

what was the first fandom you wrote for? Avatar: The Last Airbender! Although I did write some terrible Harry Potter and Warriors fics when I was really young. Lol.

what’s your favorite fic you’ve ever written? Well my favorite favorite is still a wip, but my favorite fic I have published is so I throw stones at walls I'll never climb.

Thanks for the tag syd!! Tagging @fullmetcl @swearingintengwar @khrysopoeia @thewingedwalrus @fullmetalscullyy and anyone else who wants to do it!

#aure writes fic #tag game

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bellamyblake · 3 years

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fic writer asks

Tagged by @burninghoneyatdusk! Thanks, Sam!

Name(s)?

bellamyblake (Tumblr)

bellofthetolppl (Ao3)

Fandom(s)?

The 100, but I have written for others in the past like HP and TVD.

Where you post? Ao3 and here when it comes to headcanons or one-shots and sometimes multichaps like with Little Steps at first at least. I’m growing kind of wary of ao3.

Most popular multi-chapter (by kudos)?

Hanging on the words you say

Major Character Death Alternate Universe - Modern Setting/ Angst/ Hurt/Comfort/ Epistolary/ soldier!bellamy/ doctor!clarke/ Best friend's brother/ The Delinquents/ Enemies to Friends to Lovers

Bellamy Blake is on his second tour when he emails the only person he can't stand aka the obnoxious Clarke Griffin just because he doesn't have a choice and has managed to push away everyone else from his life. What was a one-time thing turns to be a constant flow of emails.

This is still my favorite fic that I wrote for this fandom though the backlash in the final chapters and people being angry at me kinda got me to stop writing for a year. But I loved loved loved writing it, it was fun and it was painful and it was sad. May not be best in terms of word order or eloquence but it’s my favorite piece for this fandom that I have written as a multichapter fic.

Favourite story you’ve written so far?

Obviously apart from Hanging on the words you say I’d also add:

Tap my shoulder, hold my hand

Alternate Universe - Modern Setting/ Hurt/Comfort/ Angst/ Fluff/ cowboy!bellamy/ college student!Clarke/ young octavia/ aurora is alive and not bad okay/ same with jake/ References to Depression

Bellamy Blake used to be one of the most popular bull riders in the state, winning rodeos and competitions whenever he went until a terrible injury put him down and now he has to get used to a new way of living. Thankfully, he has his best friend Clarke Griffin by his side no matter what.

I wrote this fic around this time last year and it kind of started as a joke. I had began it a few months prior and abandoned it, only doing it to fullfill my own whump desires but then I randomly picked it up again and it was awesome and fun and I loved tackling important issues like Bellamy’s depression and writing Aurora as a good mom and young Octavia. It was really fun and the story is very close to my heart because I think I did a maybe okayish job at it and i never say that. People aren’t big fans of it because it’s very whumpy but I loved writing it.

Fic you were nervous to post?

I was very nervous to post my first smut fic:

The perfect sleeping arrangement

Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence/ Hurt/Comfort/ Smut/ Fluff and Smut/ Mommy Kink/ Anxiety Disorder/ Nightmares

Bellamy always tries to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders but at night he's breaking apart-anxiety and nightmares are tearing him up, yet he won't let Clarke take care of him. Unless she insists and he starts opening up to her.

Angst, fluff, spooning and smut ensue!

I am really bad at writing smut but this has been lots of fun and I do think there’s a lack of mommy!kink in the fandom and Bellamy being taken care of so *shrugs*. But I am still awful at smut. However it was fun but Idk if I’ll keep it posted.

How do you choose your titles?

I mostly use songs! I’m bad with coming up with titles, I either need help from a friend or the title just randomly in a moment of rare clarity and serenity comes to me out of nowhere but that almost never happens so...songs it is!

Do you outline?

I used to outline more like on paper, have a plan and all but now I kind of just outline in my head. For some fics I don’t outline, I just go from moment to moment, chapter to chapter-I find it more challenging that way and more fun for myself. I usually have a general idea of the ending before I have even started writing or sometimes when I’m halfway through but chapter to chapter my thoughts change and I like to twist stuff around for my own entertainment.

Complete works? 31

In-progress works? 3 on ao3 and about like 10 ideas in my drafts that are not finished and I sometimes write for just for fun but don’t plan to post.

Prompts? I frankly don’t like prompts because I like coming up with the ideas of the fics myself and whenever I get a prompt to fill I feel like I always just fuck it up majorly and it is not what the reader wanted at all. But Little steps started as a prompt and I am glad I kept writing for it so I guess it’s 50/50!

#tumblr games #bellarke fanfiction #thank you for tagging me sam #this was nice #i loved it #bellarke #bruh i really hope i can finish all the stuff i wanna write #like some drafts even if i dont post them #and write more smut :D

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tsarisfanfiction · 4 years

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Grounded pt1

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Teen Genre: Hurt/Comfort/Family Characters: Scott, Virgil, Gordon, John

Re-watched Buried Treasure and Venom and this little muse dug its claws in - Scott took a bit of a beating in the former, and then doesn’t pilot TB1 or even the pod even though speed is of the essence in the latter. This isn’t finished - don’t know if the eventual thing will be a oneshot or multichap on AO3/FFN - or even proof read because it’s midnight and I’ll get yelled at if I don’t go to bed now, but muse wouldn’t shut up, so here’s 4k words of whatever this is gonna end up being. Title is also still a wip.

It was an exhausted Scott Tracy that dragged himself into his shower at the end of what had been a day he honestly wished had never happened. A trip into a trash mine had never been on his bucket list – and even if he’d known about the things before today, it still wouldn’t have featured on his bucket list – and after the chaos that had ensued, he would be delighted if he never had to enter one again. Somewhere in the big brother part of his mind labelled Gordon was a mental note to make sure his second youngest brother never went in one again, either. While Scott was all for his brothers making friends, he had concerns about his budding acquaintance with the woman known only as Scraps.

He wasn’t entirely sure Gordon had told the truth when he said he’d never gone scavenging himself, and he certainly wasn’t sure Gordon wouldn’t if the opportunity presented itself. After the hydrofoil, the blond had gained a ‘if today was my last day’ attitude and refused to let new experiences pass him by; it was understandable, but more than a little stressful for Scott at times.

The mission had been a success, but it hadn’t felt like it when both his accompanying brothers were stewing in angry silence over the comms on the way back, Scraps (encouraged by Gordon) had insisted he fork out the quite frankly ludicrous price of the stretchy toy, and the owners of the site were breathing down his neck about destruction of their property. Apparently they didn’t care that it was Scraps who had damaged their WRM when IR had wrecked their park and were well known to be the Tracy family – that is, known to be filthy rich. It had been a very expensive day for both him personally and the family at large, and just to compound it all he’d come home to the news that while the Mechanic was now willingly working on the engine, the price of that had been the Hood finding out about their plans.

Brains’ furious lecture about the mole pod had just been the icing on the cake. Scott had tried to save it and nearly got himself munched by the mechanical monster in the process, but apparently trying wasn’t good enough. He understood – he did. Every time Brains had to build them a new pod so they could keep functioning at full capacity was another delay on the T-Drive engine. It was just one more thing he didn’t need in a day where the only highlight was the fact that at least their rescue hadn’t failed where it counted – Scraps was alive, and being treated for shock and a fractured rib at her local hospital.

Speaking of ribs…

Four long, gruelling hours after the rescue finished, Scott finally had the chance to peel his dirty, mud-splattered uniform away from his aching body and assess the physical damage he’d sustained. His suit was reinforced and designed to protect him, but it had its limits, and Scraps’ shrill scream to stop forcing Gordon to make an emergency stop – just for the sake of a damned toy – had slammed his torso into the rigid exoskeleton of the dragonfly pod.

Just because their pods couldn’t stand up to a WRM didn’t mean they weren’t solidly built. Very solidly built. Scott had felt a sadly all-too familiar sensation of at least one rib breaking at the contact, but with their lives still decidedly in peril hadn’t had the chance to do anything about it. Their frantic flight for the surface, where he had nothing but his uniform and what shelter he could glean from the front of the pod to protect him from their forceful resurfacing, hadn’t done him any favours either.

It spoke volumes that both his brothers were so annoyed with him – one of them for reasons outside of his control, which was very unlike Virgil – that neither of them had noticed how stiffly he’d been standing. They hadn’t even glanced at him twice despite knowing that he’d been on the outside of a pod travelling at high speeds through a tunnel, and while there was always a part of Scott who hated to worry his brothers and hid injuries he found himself wrong-footed at the fact he’d got away with it.

The painkillers he’d popped the moment he was back in One, out of sight, had done their job to get him home, but after four hours they were wearing off, pain stabbing its way through his chest. He should go to the infirmary, get a scan to see how bad it was and maybe even reluctantly tell someone, but he couldn’t bring himself to do that. Virgil might be in a bad mood with him, but he’d instantly feel guilty for not noticing, and Grandma would not go easy on her favourite grandson for neglecting something as basic as a health check after a dangerous manoeuvre, no matter how annoyed he’d been with the person in question.

He had a stock of painkillers in his ensuite, like they all did, for minor things like bumps and bruises. They weren’t supposed to be used in relation to any unreported injuries, but Scott had already decided he couldn’t report it, and besides, he was the commander. He could bend a few rules – it wasn’t his first rodeo with broken ribs, anyway. He knew how to treat them. Painkillers, ice if he could get some without causing suspicion, and rest when he could snatch it.

This was a case of snatching some rest – it was dinner soon, but it wouldn’t be the first time he’d skipped Grandma’s cooking and it wouldn’t be the last. It wouldn’t raise any eyebrows if he wasn’t there; he doubted his brothers would be if they could escape.

Looking in the bathroom mirror, it was clear straight away that he’d taken quite a hit. Mottled bruising decorated his torso and shoulders – the first from the collision with the pod, the second from breaking through the surface. Tentative probing with his fingers told him what he already knew as his chest flinched away from the touch with a spike of pain. At least one broken rib.

He’d sneak some ice from the freezer once everyone else was in bed, but for the time being he had a long overdue date with his shower and popped a fresh dose of painkillers before easing himself under the water. Ideally, Scott wanted a hot one, but the broken rib meant he kept it cool in an attempt to soothe the swelling. Brown water swirled around his feet, finally washing away the dirt he’d acquired in the trash mine, and he let himself relax as the painkillers kicked in.

The mission finally felt like it was over. He couldn’t say the day was over, because he still had the never-ending pile of reports for both the GDF and Tracy Industries to write up and there was never any telling when the next emergency call would come in, but no more trash mine, no more furious gardeners or landowners.

Just Scott and-

“Scott, sorry to interrupt your shower but there’s another situation.” John appeared suddenly and Scott jumped, muffling a curse as his ribs informed him that painkillers or not, that was not appreciated. He sighed instead.

“F.A.B.” He rubbed his face tiredly, beyond glad their bathroom cameras didn’t transmit anything below the neck so his decorative torso was hidden from his ever-attentive brother… who had apparently also missed that he’d been slammed hard into the pod. “I’ll be in the lounge in two.” He wanted to say five, but it normally only took two minutes and longer would make John suspicious.

“See you there.” John vanished and he let out another breath, turning off the water. Strictly speaking, he shouldn’t fly with a broken rib, or go on a rescue at all, but as long as he took it easy it would be fine.

Two minutes later found him in the lounge, apparently the last one there. Virgil and Gordon didn’t acknowledge his arrival and he tried not to let it sting. They’d work with him on the rescue – it wasn’t the first time they’d gone on a rescue mid-row, and no doubt wouldn’t be the last. The perils of living and working full time with siblings. Alan, at least, gave him a big grin and he returned it as best he could before turning to John, who was hovering impatiently in the middle of the room. He was always impatient when they weren’t all immediately available; Scott didn’t take it personally.

“Good, you’re here,” John acknowledged. “We’ve got a collapsed mineshaft with a worker trapped inside in Cornwall, England. His colleagues all got out okay but they don’t have the gear to get him out without risking a bigger collapse.”

“F.A.B., John,” Scott replied. “I’ll go on ahead in Thunderbird One. Virgil, Gordon, follow me in Thunderbird Two.” Another underground rescue, and another mole pod needed. Typical. Still, if it was really only simple, he wouldn’t be needed for more than co-ordination. He could handle that. “Virgil, have you had the chance to replace the lost gear from the trash mine?”

“All replaced,” Virgil confirmed, heading for his launch chute. “We’re out of spares now, though, so we’d better not lose this one.” Scott winced – that wasn’t good.

“I’ll bear that in mind,” he said, reaching up towards his lamps and pulling them down towards his chest as always, glad that the painkillers had more or less kicked in so the movement didn’t make his ribs flare up in pain. The last thing he saw before being whisked around into his chute was Alan, looking somewhat dejected at being left behind, again.

They’d barely needed Gordon for the mission – if Scott was at full health he would have entertained leaving him behind – so there was no reason to bring Alan. Still, there was a scolding voice in the back of his head that sounded suspiciously like Grandma telling him he should have let Alan take Thunderbird One and take a rest himself.

If Thunderbird Three was needed while they were gone, Alan would be fit to pilot, he argued back. Thunderbird One would be tough, but he conceded that there was no way he could launch into space with at least one broken rib. The voice quietened but he knew it wasn’t pacified.

The painkillers diluted but didn’t entirely quash the pain of suiting up, but with no-one around to see he could gasp without fear of being caught, and soon he was scrambling into his pilot seat – still muddy; cleaning his ‘bird had been next on the priority list after the shower, because apparently his brothers had decided not to help him out on that front.

If suiting up was bad, launching was worse. He’d anticipated that, throwing his comms onto mute – John knew better than to interrupt during the launch sequence unless it was truly urgent so there shouldn’t be anyone to see him – as he gasped for breath against the stinging of his chest. Full speed was out of the question, but as it was a rescue they already knew what they’d need, he didn’t have to get there much before Thunderbird Two, so he settled for an almost bearable Mach 10 and flicked his comms back on, hoping John wouldn’t ask questions.

Presumably John had reached the same conclusion as him, as his decision of half max speed wasn’t commented on when his brother made contact a few minutes later to continue the debrief with additional information coming in from the danger zone.

It was a textbook rescue, a fact Scott was incredibly glad for as he let Virgil take the mole pod down, followed by Gordon with stabilising foam to stop the mine collapsing any further. In and out, no complications, no injuries. The trapped worker emerged from the pod shaken but otherwise fine and Scott watched Virgil check him over thoroughly to be safe as he and Gordon secured both intact pods back inside the module, where they belonged.

“I’ll see you back at base,” he told his brothers as he headed back to his ‘bird. Gordon gave him a crisp nod while Virgil gave no indication that he’d heard – as he was still checking the rescuee over, Scott hadn’t expected one. Gordon’s reaction told him everything he needed to know – the attitude was still professional-only. He wasn’t yet forgiven for whatever transgression it was Gordon was mad at him about. It was nearing midnight at home, though; they were all tired and Scott fully expected it to all blow over by morning, once they’d had some sleep.

The site supervisor was waiting for him as he approached.

“Just wanted to say thank you again,” the woman said, sticking out her hand. He took it and hid a wince at her particularly vigorous shake. It was too soon for more painkillers, but this particular dose was wearing off already; the flight home was not going to be fun.

“Just doing our job,” he returned, polite smile on his face, and carefully retracted his hand. She let him.

“Your job’s an impressive one,” she winked at him, before her gaze wandered slightly. Scott wanted to groan – he knew that look, and normally he’d play along, maybe even see if he could score if he was feeling particularly lucky, but he was physically tired, emotionally drained, and in pain. No flirting for him today.

He just nodded at her, smile slightly more genuine because regardless of the situation it always gave him a bit of a boost when he got attention of that sort – not that he’d dare admit that to his brothers, or they’d never let him forget it – and she laughed.

“I’d say another time, but I’d hope we don’t need your assistance again,” she grinned, and before Scott realised it was coming, there was a playful elbow in his ribs. Nothing hard, not even something he’d normally react to, but his ribs screamed and he gasped, instinctively doubling over before forcing himself straight again.

He fervently hoped his brothers hadn’t noticed, but didn’t dare glance around to check.

“Oh, I’m so-”

“You’re right, hopefully you won’t need us again.” He overrode her apology, sent her another small grin, and got himself back inside the safety of his ‘bird as quickly as he could without seeming like he was running away. His ribs burned and he eyed the first aid cabinet, sorely tempted, but squashed the impulse. Piloting in pain wasn’t advisable, but piloting overdosed on medication was potentially fatal. Taking a moment to settle, he opened up a link to Thunderbird Five.

“I’m returning to base now,” he informed his brother. “Rescue complete; Virgil and Gordon are finishing up with the worker, but they’ve got it all in hand and I’ve got a shower to finish.”

“F.A.B.,” John acknowledged, a small grin on his face at Scott’s mention of a shower. “I’ll see if I can get the world to wait on getting itself into any more trouble until you’re done, big brother.”

“That would be nice,” Scott grinned, settling back in his chair more comfortably and ignoring his ribs. They both knew John couldn’t control that, especially not with the Hood and his Chaos Crew running around, but sometimes it was nice to pretend. “Thunderbird One out.”

He muted his comms again – against protocol, but he doubted Virgil or Gordon would be calling him up for a chat given the way they were cold-shouldering him and he’d already addressed John – before taking off. VTOL launches were far gentler with the G-forces, but unlike earlier, he wasn’t riding high on the full effect of the painkillers, so it hurt worse as he accelerated.

Mach 8 would be plenty to get him home, he decided, unwilling to risk anything faster than necessary, and once he was cruising he unmuted his comms, confident he wouldn’t have missed anything.

“-ott. Scott. Thunderbird One are you listening to me?”

Virgil sounded furious. That didn’t bode well.

“Reading you loud and clear, Thunderbird Two,” he replied. “What’s happened?” He reached out in preparation of turning his ‘bird’s nose back the way he’d come.

“What’s happened, he asks,” Virgil steamed, hologram materialising. He was standing firmly upright, arms crossed and one hand tapping on his arm. “The site supervisor wanted to know why you’re working with a rib injury.”

Dammit.

“Virgil-” he started, not quite sure how he was going to deflect the accusation. His brother didn’t give him a chance.

“Don’t Virgil me,” he snapped. “Get back here so I can see why she thinks you’re injured.”

“It’s fine,” Scott lied. “Nothing serious. I’ll see you back at base.” He cut the call, which in immediate hindsight was stupid decision, but to his surprise, Virgil didn’t immediately call back. Still, he switched his comms back to mute and eyed his speed. If he wanted to get back before Thunderbird Two, Mach 8 would be enough, but if Virgil pushed his ‘bird, it wouldn’t leave him with much time to grab a shower and smuggle some ice. Gritting his teeth, he pushed her up to Mach 10, swallowing the grunt of pain from the additional pressure.

Almost immediately, Thunderbird One started to slow.

“Hey!” he yelped. The absolute last thing he needed was his ‘bird crashing. It might give him enough injuries to hide the fact his ribs were already broken, but wrecking his ‘bird was not worth avoiding a lecture. He tried to correct it, but her controls jammed under his hands. “Oh you’re kidding me,” he groaned, preparing himself to stand up and get to the reset. What had even happened? She hadn’t been damaged since the Icarus, and Brains and Virgil had both sworn through and through that she was fully functional again. There was no reason for-

His holographic display lit up with the icon for Thunderbird Five.

Ah. Dammit. Virgil had got John on his case.

Reluctantly, he unmuted his comm and immediately got blasted with three brothers all yelling at him. The temptation was there to simply mute them again, but instead he sighed and leaned back in his chair, waiting for them to stop.

“-t mute your comms ever-”

“-swer us you-”

“-re you an idiot-”

They didn’t, but their voices were getting more and more frantic, and he realised they were starting to panic at his lack of a response. He groaned.

“You don’t need to shout, I can hear you just fine,” he told them. “John, what are you doing with Thunderbird One?”

“Landing,” his brother said abruptly. “You’re just coming up over the Sahara so I’m putting you down there. Thunderbird Two is en route.”

“This really isn’t necessary,” Scott complained. “Can’t we deal with this at home?”

“You mean in another two hours, providing we don’t get another callout or distraction so you can slip away again?” Virgil asked dryly. “No, we’re doing this now, and if I find anything worse than a minor bruise you’re finishing the trip home in Thunderbird Two’s medbay.”

Scott groaned, having absolutely no desire to be subjected to that. “Seriously, guys, I’m fine.” Thunderbird One’s VTOLs fired as her speed dropped, and he felt her land. Looking out of the viewing window, he saw sand and more sand. The Sahara, as John had promised.

“We’ll be the judge of that,” Gordon scowled.

“Thunderbird Two is five minutes out from your location,” Virgil informed him coolly. “Stay where you are.”

Thunderbird Five’s insignia was still firmly ensconced in the holographic display, informing him that John had not retracted his override. As much as he wanted to, there was no way he was going anywhere until his brothers had satisfied themselves. He groaned again and eyed the medical cabinet once more. It was still too soon to take another dose, but he knew there was no way any of them would be letting him pilot the rest of the way home anyway.

The relief from pain would not be worth the lecture from Virgil and then Grandma. Reluctantly he turned away from it and closed his eyes, listening out for the engines of Thunderbird Two. His brothers kept the channel open, talking to each other and occasionally shooting a question his way – presumably to make sure he hadn’t passed out on them – which he answered reluctantly.

True to Virgil’s words, five minutes after John had landed his ‘bird there came the sound of Thunderbird Two’s VTOL overhead, and he jabbed at his seat controls to leave his ‘bird, seeing no point in sitting and waiting for them to descend on him when he’d be dragged into Thunderbird Two anyway. Some battles weren’t worth fighting.

“Scott!” Virgil strode across the short distance between the two ‘birds, grabbing his arm as soon as he was in reach as though he thought he’d flee if given the chance. With John still controlling his ‘bird, Scott thought the gesture unnecessary. “You absolute idiot. Thunderbird Two, now.” The hand gripping his bicep didn’t give him much of a choice, forcibly guiding him towards the lowered hatch.

Gordon was waiting in the cockpit, arms crossed and eyes like fire. Beside him, the cockpit’s stretcher had been lowered.

“Sit,” Virgil snapped, dragging him over to it. Scott obeyed reluctantly, and scowled at the medical scanner immediately deployed. It didn’t take long to flag up amber along his various bruises, and red at his ribs. He didn’t hear what Virgil ground out under his breath, but he was fairly certain it wasn’t language he’d use in front of their grandmother. “John, take One home. Scott’s piloting nowhere.”

“F.A.B.” Scott knew his brother well enough to hear the anger in those three letters. His ‘bird’s VTOL roared to life and he watched her take to the sky through the cockpit windows.

“When did this happen, Scott?” Virgil demanded, setting the scanner to one side and tugging at his zip. Scott batted his hand away, taking over. He still had enough pride to not be undressed by his brother. Two sets of brown eyes narrowed dangerously as the bruising became visible.

Caught, there was nothing to be gained by lying. “Last mission, when the pod stopped suddenly.” A flash of guilt swept across Gordon’s face.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” the aquanaut demanded. He shrugged, then winced when his body reminded him that the painkillers were all but worn off.

“Didn’t exactly get the chance,” he said. “Couldn’t do anything about it at the time because we were trying not to become WRM food, then there was the thing with the Mechanic and the Hood, and the landowner wanted compensation for the damaged WRM and park, and-”

“And most of that could have waited for you to get checked over,” Virgil interrupted, a gentle hand lightly touching his bruised torso. Scott’s body flinched away from the contact unbidden. “Why the hell did you come out to Cornwall? Gordon and I could have handled it by ourselves.”

“It was a rescue,” Scott protested.

“Which you’re now grounded from for six weeks, minimum,” Virgil growled. “Lie down. What have you taken for the pain?”

He didn’t get a chance to protest before both brothers were carefully but firmly pushing him down onto the stretcher.

“Two Tylenol when I left the trash mine seven hours ago,” he admitted. “Two more just before this mission, three hours ago.” Virgil frowned.

“You’ll have to bear with it until we get home,” he said. “Once the Tylenol’s out of your system, I’ll give you something stronger.” Scott scowled. “Gordon, get some ice on his ribs. Scott, stay still.” Virgil had the gall to strap him down, avoiding putting pressure on his ribs. “We’ll be talking about this when we get home.”

It was a promise, but just before he turned away to head to his seat, Scott saw the one thing he’d hoped he’d be able to avoid: guilt. Virgil was well aware he’d missed the signs because of his flare-up about the topiary, and wouldn’t be forgiving himself for it any time soon.

“Virg-” he started, only to interrupt himself with a hiss as a cool sensation spread across his chest. He closed his eyes briefly, before opening them to find Gordon stood next to him, ice pack in hand.

“Not right now, bro,” the blond said quietly, and the same guilty pain was in his eyes. “Give him time.”

“Gord-”

“And me,” Gordon interrupted him. “Just… not yet, okay? Wait ‘til we’re home and you’re all smothered better in the infirmary.”

Scott didn’t like it, but he understood it – they’d find it easier to deal with once they knew he really was okay. Broken ribs sucked, but in the grand scheme of injuries, they were relatively minor. The real fear his brothers carried was what if it had been worse – a punctured lung, for example.

In answer, he pulled a face, showing exactly what he thought of being ‘smothered better’ as Thunderbird Two roared to life beneath him. A small grin tugged at the corner of Gordon’s mouth and he considered that progress, settling back comfortably as his brother’s ‘bird carried him home.

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#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds are go fanfiction #tsari writes fanfiction #season 3 spoilers #scott tracy #virgil tracy #gordon tracy #john tracy #grounded

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