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djarinsbeskar · 4 years

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PREQUEL ARC: PART 2 - THE HOUK

A/N: Part 2 is here! First and foremost, can I just say thank you so much for the reception Part 1 received and to those who (gasps!) actually want me to tag them for updates??? I don’t know how to react??? I’m so touched??????? It’s so motivating and has reminded me why I love sharing my scribbles!

There’s a greater focus on world/character building in this chapter so if it feels a bit rambling or description heavy, I do apologise! Like I said, I’m trying to build some context to the reader-insert before we get to the smut, and I hope that I’ve kept her general enough that she doesn’t cross the line too much into OC territory and becomes unrelatable. As always, constructive criticism is welcome! My style of writing leaves much to be desired so I would love to know if something doesn’t make sense so I can improve and fix it. But enough of that, on with the show!

Pairing: Din Djarin/Fem!Reader

Word Count: 5.2k

Rating: 18+ (NO Minors)

Warnings: Language and slight injury detail.

Plot: You encounter Mando suffering one misfortune after another.

AO3 | Stitches Masterlist | Main Masterlist

8 ABY, Mynock, Dandoran.

The second time you met him, he had dislocated his shoulder after a nasty clash with a Houk.

Your dealing with the Mandalorian on Klatooine had moved to the back of your mind and you rarely, if ever, thought about it. It was merely another encounter with a rough character that needed some medical attention. You wouldn’t have been able to hazard a guess at how many similar characters you saw in a week while you worked at the clinic. Even more so when you’d left Klatooine after becoming disillusioned that the New Republic were actually trying to make a difference.

You had heard stories from the Core and Mid Rim planets. Stories of the investment and progress being made to rebuild after the tyranny of the Empire, of the billions of credits being poured into the development of new ship building centers on Corellia and large, extravagant residencies for government members on Coruscant. Things, you were sure, that were not actually urgent necessities as they were desires. Especially given that the funds you received from that same government to sustain the clinic thinned before drying up completely a few months after your encounter with the Mandalorian.

…Hemorrhaging more credits than is justified for the benefits we’re seeing in return.

The busybody politician with a colorful title and even more colorful robes waxed poetically, hiding the sentiment of disinterest in ways only a politician could. Half-heartedly trying to distract you by his explanations with empty praise and gratitude for your service during the Rebellion and your humanitarian work now, a true embodiment of what the New Republic stands for. He crowed like the colorful bird he looked like, dressed as he was with fine feathers lining the lapels of his robes.

You bristle at the memory of the hologram’s eyes flickering to look at anything besides you, running down the time you had spent weeks trying to get.

That was when the memory of the Mandalorian surfaced, surprisingly. How the day after you treated him you arrived at the medical center and saw a familiar pouch of credits sitting innocently behind the check-in desk. When you enquired with the receptionist, she told you it was sitting there once she opened up earlier that morning. The only note left being on one of the datapads behind the desk, the scrawling font reading; to help with your work. You had let out a chuckle to yourself as you checked your schedule, wondering if the brutish male you had treated last night really was as cold as he portrayed himself to be.

The memory had incited a righteous anger that a bounty hunter was more willing to support a voluntary clinic than the government that set it up in the first place was.

I thought the Empire were the ones who put a credit limit on what a life is worth. You had hissed in return, interrupting what you were sure was a well-rehearsed and well used speech, before hanging up. You pressed the heel of your hands into your eyes, taking a shuddering breath as you tried not to be nihilistic in thinking that you had spent nearly half your life thinking you could make a difference, when, you were just serving the Empire in different clothing.

It wasn’t a fair comparison; you knew the New Republic was neither as cruel nor as tyrannical and oppressive as it’s predecessor, but you had been made so dreadfully aware that in places like the Outer Rim, people would always be overlooked by those in power because they simply didn’t offer enough to be worth looking at.

The realization was a raw wound to your soul. You had lost brothers and friends to the fight for liberation, but it didn’t seem as though the grass was much greener on the other side. Maybe elsewhere in the galaxy it was, but where you were needed most, the grass was dehydrated and dying under the relentless sun.

With the clinic penniless, your meagre pension from the Rebellion was not nearly enough to keep it functioning. Add to that the reluctance of the other medics to run the clinic alongside you out of their own pocket and the intergalactic beacon for medical aid that alerted anyone in the parsec of where to go being disengaged, traffic stopped. The native Klatooinians preferred their own healers and very rarely, if ever, sought out medics from the New Republic.

For the first time in your life, your path wasn’t clear. If you even had a path anymore.

That was how you found yourself on Dandoran, flying off a week after the last of the medics left Derelkann to the first planet that was habitable to humans. But by the Maker, it was even rougher than Klatooine. The temperate climate and lush greenery were more comfortable for you, but the city you found yourself in, Mynock, was to say the least, undesirable. Having once been Hutt Space, there were still several illegal operations active that kept the city going and you learned early on what areas to avoid and to always carry a blaster with you. But at least where there was activity, there was work for you.

***

You met Biran Sonter the very day you arrived, asking directions to the nearest medical facility, hoping they could use another medic. He was an elderly Mirialan male with a wealth of history behind him, his facial tattoos creased with deep wrinkles and a kindly smile that reminded you of your grandfather.

You were flabbergasted to learn that during the time of the Galactic Republic, he acted as the royal physician to the palace on Naboo.

As you choked on the tea he had kindly made for you at that revelation, you couldn’t ask him quickly enough how he ended up here? On an Outer Rim backwater skughole of a planet and his tale had been sobering. When the Republic first fell, anyone who did not immediately surrender to the rising Empire was terminated. Biran had, at the time, only heard word of the death of the beloved former Queen Amidala and blamed the Empire vehemently. Escaping on one of the last shuttles from the Mid Rim planet before legions of clones descended, he arrived on Dandoran where no one, not even the Hutts cared enough to notice him. All they knew, was that he was an excellent doctor who charged little for his services and kept to himself. That was good enough for them. While he treated a vast number of criminals ranging from thieves to bounty hunters, he was not wholly merciful. He somehow managed to avoid or talk his way out of treating anyone in the organized crime syndicates or known traffickers and killers. It may have gone against a physician’s code to do ones best to save every life, but he like many, made their own code in the Outer Rim.

You fell into a fast and easy friendship with the Mirialan after that, your similar histories of working in the medical field despite being decades apart giving you plenty to talk about. The practice Biran ran in Mynock was always busy and he was only too grateful when you offered to take the weight off his old shoulders and gradually, his clients began to expect to see you most of the day and Biran for a few hours in the early morning. You were never short on work between cantina brawls, accidents and the downright attacks that took place in Mynock and the next eighteen standard months seemed to pass in the blink of an eye, Klatooine a distant memory, as was the Mandalorian you met there.

The night you saw him again, was no different to any other you spent enjoying a quiet drink before heading back to turn in for the night.

You had been in the process of leaving the cantina, recognizing that the later it grew, the rowdier and aggressive the clientele became. You could handle yourself as well as anyone who made their home in Hutt Space, but you knew better than to be blatantly reckless when you were on your own. It wasn’t like you had the squadron you stayed with throughout the Rebellion for backup as you once did, and your closest ally would probably break in half if you pushed him too hard. So no, you were not staying late with Mynocks newest resident of a Houk warlord and the company he seemed to attract.

The Houk in question was a cruel and belligerent brute, a former local warlord by the name of Gappo Teff. His reputation for inflicting punishment disproportionate to any slight committed against him or the Empire was one of the many echoes of the former imperial rule that was still being felt in the galaxy nearly three years after its collapse.

The stories of the chokehold he held over Sullust would make even a hardened soldier’s stomach churn. How he managed to escape the liberation of the planet without being dragged to the noxious surface of Sullust to suffer for the pain he had caused so many, was a mystery. But there he was, sitting like a king in the cantina you found yourself in, bellowing laughter ricocheting obnoxiously throughout the space, not a care in the world that he was a wanted felon.

It might have been to do with the fact that he was at least seven and a half foot tall, with a mass that could easily fit three of you side by side across him and still not be seen. It might have been to do with the cold, milky blue of his small eyes, sunk into a skull so large it could probably shatter ribs and rupture organs if one were to be headbutted with it. The last thing anyone wanted was those eyes focusing on them. It could have been the heavy artillery modified blaster he kept laying on his lap; the weapon more of a cannon for those of a more regular stature. Whatever the reason, very few bounty hunters and even fewer New Republic guards came to collect him. He was probably one of the most easily found quarries on all Guild registers and New Republic wanted lists and yet, he languished in Mynock as if the Empire had never fallen and his reign was still assured.

Making your way to the entrance, you came up short as someone walked in, your nose coming abruptly close to a reddish-brown durasteel chest-plate. Taking a step back, your eyes did a double take at the familiar unpainted beskar helmet. Subconsciously, you had stepped to the side, the Mandalorian continuing to walk without a word as if you hadn’t nearly walked into him. Mandalorians were a rare sight these days, so you could be forgiven for staring. Though, you were most likely staring for entirely different reasons compared to everyone else in the cantina.

The armor was the same, if not a bit more worn, as was the dark boiled woolen cape and pulse rifle strapped to his back. But it was the gait; how could someone walk both gracefully and arrogantly, almost cocky in his self-assurance that he was in control wherever he went. It explained why he was so determined not to let his injury be known by his walk the last time you saw him. Because you had seen him before, there was no doubt in your mind that this was the same irritable reek of a Mandalorian you met in Derelkann years ago.

He stood in the middle of the cantina, assessing the place as his helmet scanned the area. If you didn’t know any better, you say he was…

“Oh, you gotta be kidding me.” You muttered to yourself when the helmet stopped on Teff. When you said bounty hunters didn’t bother to come after him, you should have been more specific. Smart bounty hunters didn’t bother hunting Gappo Teff, which explained why the one you knew of was right there looking for him.

A choice lay before you. Leave now and lock your doors until morning… or wait. For what, you couldn’t be sure. But if the Mandalorian wasn’t killed tonight by Teff, he was going to wish he was with the injuries he would probably sustain.

You let your head fall back on your shoulders as you exhaled. Why were you so soft for lost causes and wayward souls?

The Houks bodyguards left much to be desired, crumbling to the ground before they had even drawn their blasters, smoke rising from the blaster wounds inflicted effortlessly by Din.

The bodyguards weren’t what worried Din. Their boss hardly needed protecting, and he wasn’t going to go down without a fight.

The groan and screech of the metal table being shoved away by Teff as he stood to his full height made Din grit his teeth, arms open as he boomed, “Ah Mando, I was wondering when you’d try your luck at me. Your reputation is becoming rather infamous throughout the parsec.”

A guttural, wet laugh left the purple skinned quarry as Din remained silent and kept his blaster aimed. Damn, but the piece of bantha crap was big. He quickly scanned his peripheral, but it seemed the residents of Mynock had more self-interest than to trade blaster fire over one warlord, the barkeep casually making his was into the backroom of the bar to keep out of harms way.

“Why don’t you hang up that Guild work and let me make you a better offer.” Teff boomed, taking a swing of his drink, streams of the yellow fluid running down the sides of him mouth as those frosty eyes stayed trained on the bounty hunter.

Din rolled his eyes behind his helmet; negotiations by the quarry were his least favorite reaction to being caught but he knew better than to think he had captured the colossal male yet. Until Teff was either dead or frozen in carbonite, he was a danger. Luckily, the orders were to bring him in dead or alive. Seems the New Republic were fed up with him still breathing. He couldn’t say he blamed them.

“No?” the Houk pushed when Din didn’t respond, “Too bad, you’d have made an excellent addition to my collection.” And with more speed than Din had anticipated from the large male, he charged.

You had the good sense to leave the cantina as soon as the first blaster shot was fired, pulling the hood of your dusty grey jacket over your head while you made your way back to the practice to gather a few things. Things that would be completely obsolete if he died but you wouldn’t think that far. You were a realist, not a pessimist. The Houk might have had the advantage of height and sheer strength, but the Mandalorian was quicker, possibly smarter, and decked with enough firepower to make a starfighter pilot drool.

So, you put the odds about sixty forty in favor of the Mandalorian. Not that you would ever tell him that.

Teff roared in anger as Din rolled out of the way again, shooting his grappling hook to latch onto the Houks shoulder and yanked hard enough to throw the male off balance. Despite his large size however, Teff was able to slide his foot back to catch himself, putting him in direct line with Din.

He was on his feet in no time as the Houk charged at him, lowering his head so that on contact, Din’s left shoulder was thrown back into the wall of the cantina. His breath left him as the impact winded him, a dull but growing pain throbbing from his shoulder before Teff’s vile breath permeated even his helmet and a large hand wrapped around Din’s throat. He could feel his feet leave the floor and the weight of his body pulling downward made the pressure on his windpipe all the heavier.

“Oh well, at least you tried.” Teff gloated, his head leaning closer as if to peer into the visor and that distraction was all Din needed to lift his hand and engage his flamethrower, engulfing the Houk in flames. Din gasped in a breath when he was dropped, the squeals of pain coming from Teff disconcerting as he staggered around the cantina, desperately looking for something to extinguish the inferno his clothing and more vulnerable tissue had become.

Din waited a few more measured breaths before lifting the blaster and shooting the quarry in the vulnerable side of the neck, satisfied with the resounding bang the body made as it fell to the ground, flames still burning bright until he picked up the half-drunk tankard on Teffs table to douse the fire lest he be completely unrecognizable upon delivery.

Din looked around, the cantina was empty; the silence suddenly deafening as he looked back down at the body.

Now, how to get him back to the Razor Crest.

Din sighed.

“We have to stop meeting like this.”

You held up your hands unsurprised when the Mandalorian spun on the ramp of his ship, blaster raised and aimed right at you. He tilted his head slightly, taking you in and you tried not to fidget under the gaze you could feel raking over you despite not being able to see his eyes. What you could see though, was how limp his left arm was hanging to his side.

“The demon medic from Klatooine.” He muttered, finally placing your face and lowering his blaster slowly while you lowered your arms.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” You snorted before nodding to his arm, “And you’ll probably be calling me a lot worse when I tell you that that arm needs tending to.”

He shifted slightly, turning his body so you wouldn’t be able to see. You just crossed your arms across your chest and stared at him pointedly. He held your gaze and was still as a statue. You could play the silence game too if that was how he wanted to do this. It was only a matter of time before one of you broke and you weren’t the one with a dislocated shoulder, so you’d say that the odds were in your favor.

It seemed like time dragged on before, without saying anything, the Mandalorian sighed and turned towards the ship.

You bit down on a smile, but you could still feel it creeping upon your lips as you congratulated yourself on winning. Two nil, you tallied in your head, not bad girl.

The ship… well the ship was a fossil and that was being generous. But it was clean and obviously well taken of, if the tidy hull was anything to go by.

Apart from the charred corpse lying in the middle of course, but those were just details. Easily overlooked. The smell however… that was a different story, but you held back any comments. You still couldn’t fathom how he’d managed to drag a fully grown Houk through the town one-handed, but then you knew that the strength and discipline of the Mandalorians was unrivalled. He could have done it through sheer determination and honestly, you were lucky to have found him at all. But people in Mynock liked to talk, so following the rumors' had let you there relatively easy.

A sigh broke your train of thought, “Let’s get this over with.”

The warrior seemed resigned to his fate as he stepped over the corpse and you followed suit, mind instantly running through the correct procedure and treatment.

“We have to get the bone in the upper arm into the correct position before it slips back into joint, otherwise the force will just break your arm.” You explained as you moved to stand in front of the large warrior when he sat back on one of the many crates pushed against the wall of the ship. You could barely hear the short exhales coming from the modulator and you could only guess that he was holding back speaking, whether in pain or frustration that you had strong-armed him into accepting treatment again.

“But hey, look on the bright side.”

His visor tilted slightly to look at you.

“No droids needed.” You shrugged a shoulder and sent him a grin when he said nothing. When he looked away, you focused your attention back on the problem shoulder; it wasn’t immediately clear that it had been dislocated, the pauldron he wore hiding the jutting ball of the joint that was no doubt pressed uncomfortably against his flesh. What you could see was that his left side was hanging just a bit lower than his right, and the inability to move the arm was a dead giveaway.

“Are you just going to stare at it or actually do what you said you would when you barged onto my ship?” The rasp was closer to you as he turned his head, the rumble of his voice decidedly deeper than you remembered last time. Or perhaps it always had been, and you just hadn’t been paying enough attention, more focused on the very real threat of having a dead body on your hands as the poison spread. You rolled your eyes; or it was all the short and biting commands he only seemed to know how to give as opposed to actually speaking that made you forget the voice. The man could be attractive, if he wasn’t so frustrating.

“I can’t see it properly.” You replied, agitated with him again. He got under your skin too easily, and ruined your cool demeanor.

“You dealt with the problem just fine before.” He snapped back, pain making him cranky.

“You didn’t have a bone out of place last time!” You stopped yourself, sucking in a breath before releasing it to prevent yourself from snapping again.

“At least,” you bartered, “let me remove the pauldron. I can feel around the duraweave to get an idea. I won’t see any more of you than I did last time.”

He didn’t say anything again for a time and honestly, he was the slowest person you’d ever met at receiving emergency medical care. Half the men you treated during the Rebellion would yell until you’d taken care of the worst of their injuries before they even considered if it was what they wanted or not.

“Fine.” Was all he responded, making no move to remove the offending piece so you took that as your cue to feel around the curved metal cautiously, feeling where it attached to his duraweave and releasing it into your hands before placing it down on a separate crate.

“There, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” A warning growl echoed in the hull, turning you back to your task with a hum.

It seemed the joint had popped forward, no doubt from caving in as Teff collided with Mando’s shoulder. You leaned forward, your fingers feeling around the area as gently as you could while his breathing came out a little shorter. You sent him an apologetic smile.

“I’m going to have to ask you to stay still, okay? Usually I’d have someone to hold—”

“I can keep myself still, just do it.” He snapped finally, turning to look at you before he looked away again. You said nothing more as you took his gloved hand in yours, turning the forearm over and feeling the hand clench in yours when he hissed.

“Shh, nearly there.” You soothed, moving your hand under his elbow to lift it so it was aligned with Mando’s shoulder. You stood, keeping the arm in place and twisting yourself to stand facing his side.

You were definitely out to get him. There was no other explanation for why he only seemed to be seriously injured in your presence. Din tried to tell himself he was being over-dramatic and irrational, that you hadn’t even been on the same planet when he was injured the first time, but then you opened your mouth and he felt justified in his petulant thoughts.

“On three.” He heard you warn and all he could offer was a single nod; the sooner he got this over with the better.

“One…” You jerked the arm forward and slipped the joint back into place quickly with a sickening crack and searing pain took his breath away before it began to ebb immediately.

“DANK…. FERRICK!” Din yelled as his good arm reached across to grip his left, bending forward as he breathed through the flash of pain. You moved out of his way, waiting for him to look back up at you through the helmet, deep pants making his chest heave. You cocked your head to the side when his eyes found yours, a clear question there.

He groaned as he sat back, leaning his head against the hull, “It… doesn’t hurt as much anymore.” He admitted, thinking that the smile you gave him was somewhat worth the knock to his ego at having to admit such a thing in the first place. And like last time, before he could even worry about the concerning direction that thought had led to, you were fluttering about opening crates and bins as if you owned the place.

“What the hell—” he made to stand indignantly.

“Do you have any spare cloth?” You interrupted, “Your arm needs to be bound for a few days. If you have bacta it might reduce the healing time a bit but honestly, I don’t think dislocations can be rushed despite recent studies. Rushing back to heavily lifting or activity for at least six weeks is a sure way to hurt yourself again.”

You were rambling now as you set a pile of disused yet clean cloth you found on your lap, sitting across from him as he just blinked at this enigma of a woman. Giving him orders in his own ship, were you daft?

Your eyes sharpened and shot to his and he was suddenly glad you couldn’t see behind his mask. His eyes had widened guiltily at the thought that you had read his mind.

“You will do what you’re told, understand Mando?” You warned as your fingers tied a loose sling from strips of cloth you’d pulled apart without even having to look at it, deft fingers looping the material and strengthening it with several more layers woven in for good measure.

“If you insist on getting injured so often, you live with the consequences. And the consequences are doing what you’re fucking told and being happy about it, got it? Sulk if you want, so long as you keep the arm bound and don’t take on any jobs for at least two months.”

He opened his mouth a few times at the audacity, did she have a death wish? He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had spoken to him as if he were no more than a child and it made his blood boil. But just as quickly as the anger arose, it simmered as she muttered while watching her fingers tie off the sling,

“You don’t actually seem like a bad guy, and the galaxy can’t afford to lose anymore… not bad guys.” She seemed unsure of giving out even this level of praise but then again, she only had their first encounter to go by.

He grunted; not sure how to respond. And when Din was uncomfortable, he resorted to silence.

You got to your feet once the sling was suitably strong enough to support the weight of his arm without unravelling or breaking and you indicated to him, “May I?”

He jerked his head up in affirmation and you maneuvered the sling to sit correctly under his elbow and forearm, coaxing him to lift it slightly with a tap before you looped the tied end over his helmet, adjusting the length slightly to fit against him.

“You left Klatooine.” the statement rose from the warrior, his tone quieter than you’d heard him all day. Was he... trying to make conversation? Din told himself that it was merely out of curiosity from seeing you by chance on two totally different planets.

Blinking in surprise, you sat back on the crate in front of him, crossing one leg over the other and leaning back on one of your hands, “New Republic stopped funding the clinic and I realized that they’re all the same when it comes to the Outer Rim.”

He snorted in agreement, honestly, he wasn’t surprised to hear the New Republic had cut their losses on charity. It wasn’t in their nature to funnel money away from the Core planets.

“But it’s not all bad,” you continued, “I work with a doctor here. He’s old now so he should be enjoying his retirement. I’m kept busy and…”

He watched you while he waited for you to finish, surely there was more? But when you just shrugged and sent him a tight smile, he felt an uncomfortable niggle at the back of his neck, a familiarity that made him almost want to smile back even if you couldn’t see it. Almost. But not quite. He was unnerved at the… empathy he had for your situation. He too just… kept busy. It wasn’t towards any end beyond supporting the covert and the foundlings there. But for himself, he just kept working towards some translucent, non-existent goal, one job ended, and another began.

Something in your eyes told him you were doing the exact same thing. It unnerved him to think about.

“Echoy’la…” the word left him without knowing and you blinked,

“Hm?”

He shook his head and stood, grunting a bit at the ache in his shoulder when it jostled a bit, “Nothing. It seems I owe you my thanks again, demon medic.”

“I do have a name you know.” You snorted, letting the previous topic go as it seemed to just make him more awkward and grumpy than he already was. You packed away the medikit and replaced the unused cloth back where you found it.

“Somehow I don’t think it’ll be as fitting.”

“Whatever, sunshine.” You looked over your shoulder at him, the sling looking so out of place as he hooked a thumb in the utility belt he wore. It was amazing that he could still look as intimidating as he did. You gathered your things and started down the ramp leisurely. He followed you silently until he was standing at the entrance to the ship.

“Demon or not… thank you.” He called out as your feet hit the dusty ground of Mynock once again. You looked back over your shoulder and gave a single wave, calling something back to him that did make him smile behind his helmet this time.

As you disappeared into the streets of Mynock, he tested the name you had thrown back to him, rolling the syllables, and testing the vowels as he repeated it to himself.

Pity, he thought. He hated being wrong about anything, but somehow, your name was a much better fit than demon medic.

Not that he would ever admit that to you, of course.

Taglist:

@geannad @ayamenimthiriel @sarahjkl82-blog

#the mandalorian fic #the mandalorian fanfic #din djarin fanfic #din djarin fic #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #mando x you #mando x reader #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian #mando #din djarin #din djarin imagine #mando imagine #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal fic

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sweeteastart · 3 years

Text

✨Day 7✨

for the @khoc-week 2021 !

Themes : 1. Home, 2. Genderswap, 3. What was your character creation like ?

Buckle up because this is going to be quite a long one this time around they were all pretty long posts until now but humour me x)

Mikana

1. For Mikana, spending time with Sakore, her sister and Nox, pretty much her adopted sibling, is the closest feeling to home. When she is with them, darkness, light and all her problems disappeared and she puts all her attention on them.

2. Genderbend Mikana is... Pretty much just Mikana lmao. He is has aloof and friendly. However, in this men form, you can much clearly see Lea's impact on her design ahaha. He name would maybe something like Miko ?

3. Mikana is the oldest kh character i created. She was created around the end of 2019, start of 2020. i got really invested in kh quick late compared to most,,, Really i first created her because i was, and still am, a big fan of Lea. You can see the inspiration i took from his design from her side hair and bang lmao.

Mikana, like all the character i draw, soon took a life of her own. The more i drew and imagined scenarios with her, the more her personality constructed itself without me realizing it (she is aloof, level-headed, family oriented). I truly build most of it throught an AU of mine named "Magical AU". Her clothing style which is really 70/80's s still on of the thing i like the most about her.

The khocweek2020 also helped a lot (pass time, family ties, short terms and long term goals,...) !

Sika

1. Eventually in the story, Sika just kinda absorb into the sea salt trio household. She lives with them like the others kids and is just like a sister for them all. However, even in this next found home found family go brrrr she has some difficulties waking up in the morning.

2. Sika as a boy would just be her sweet self as always. This design ended up turning out much softer and sweet than what I anticipated but I kinda love it. When I was thinking about names, I couldn't really think of much only Soka came to mind at first and that's just a ATLA character lmao so I just kept Sika. I think it's neutral enough to fit a male or female character :D

3. Sika is a special case to say the least. At first, she was one of my fiction character. I never published it anywhere but it was 45 pages long of slice of life of her living in Twilight Town and being Lea and Isa friend,,, Again, herpersonnality build herself up without me thinking much about it (she is bubbly, kind, responsible, ressourceful). But what's truly different about it was that i had her personnality BEFORE i created her appearance. It's really rare for me to do that.

HOWEVER i wasn't satisfied. My writing was too confused... So i scraped all 45 pages of writing i did. i had a hard time doing so because it represented DAYS of work for nothing. I started everything from the beginning. It was then that i truly integrated Orion and Erid properly into the story and created Master Ivi. Some keypoint are still the same but i changed the story quite a lot.

Bunny and Anis

1. Truly, Anis and Bunny always felt at home whenever they were with each other. This feeling extended to their significant other and close friends as they grew older. Whatever the house, what make them feel home is having the people taht matter to them by their side.

2. Bunny and Anis were REALLY a headache to do. Since they are identical twins I feared their genderbend would just look like any another. However, I quickly realized I could use their controsting personalities to my advantage. Bunny genderbend looks like a quiet and successful uncle while Anis genderbend looks like this fun but a bit unhinged aunt you love.

Their names would be Anise for Anis and Hare for Bunny,,,

3. At the beginning, Bunny was simply my Khux player character. I didn't do much art or think much about her or her story. Funnily enough, this is last year khocweek that truly made me flesh her out ! Without it, Bunny would most likely stayed a surface level character. Her name was also mostly a joke but ended up really like it.

When it comes to personality, she mostly have the player personality from KHux and follow the same story. Well except for the final sacrifice (Anis took on this part x)).

Anis was created not too long after last year khocweek. I was simply playing around with the male dressing interface, creating a sort of genderbend of Bunny and... Got attached to the character lmao. With his name, i stayed in the food related realm really i tend to mostly name my character after food... .

His peronnality was mostly created based on the dynamic energic and calm character have. Since Bunny is a very calm and silent person, having a twin brother loud and energetic could make out for funny and ridiculous situation. I really like the dynamic.

Pêche

1. I have yet to decide a definite end to Pêche's story. Their story is yet to find the comfort in hurt/comfort in the current state of her fanfic x) However I can vaguely imagine that someday, they would be have healed enough to trust the guardians of light.

2. Genderbend Pêche was really hard for me. Like some might have guessed Pêche's goes with neutral pronouns and have a generally androgyne appearance : the biggest reason is that I get the impression Pêche doesn't identify as anything. They are there suffering but hey they will have help and slowly heal from all the bad things they experienced. So I just altered their body shape a bit and cut their hair ?

3. Pêche wasn't a really serious character at first. For one, she was a fiction character and more importantly a sort of punching ball character. When i felt bad, i wrote her and felt better. But soon enough my brain started to really like her and from there, i couldn't help but fleshed her out. She needed a coherent story. Well coherent doesn't mean simple for me x) her story is a beautiful mess to understand.

Also i wanted to think about some kind of writing prompt i had : What if Xehanort had a student ? Eraqus as some but Xehanort never explicetly said he never had any so my brain went brrrrr ; What or when did Xehanort truly descended into darkness ? The old men is so intense in the game but Eraqus still think of him as good until he dies ??? It means Xehanort was at least okay for a bunch of time then, right ???? ; What if Xehanort succeded in completing a heart ? lmao this one made available so much angst i couldn't pass it,,,

So this is the end of my khocweek. Even with all my preparation I still had to rush the last few drawnings ahah. Anyways I had such a sweets and good week! I rarely have the occasion of talking about my ocs to strangers and have actual reactions. Interactions I get from the khocweek make my heart warms up 🥺 I thanks all the khocweek team and all the other talented participants from the bottom of my hearts 💜💜 I hope to be there next year and see some familiar ocs again 👀

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storytimewithcort · 3 years

Text

Ah My Wolf

Fandom: Elder Scrolls Skyrim

Summary: Dragonborn becomes curious about wolves...discusses the possibility of engaging in....activities...with Farkas' more feral form. Also, they get tipsy and sneak in Jorrvaskr like they are love crazy teenagers.

Pairing:Farkas x OC (same as previous story)

Warning: lemon! (Those were the days) nsfw fluffy sexy stuff, my sweet wolf man gives it good.

A/n: Another Farkas Fic. It's got fluff, and smut, and perhaps some more later if there's a cpt 2. Name of The Dragonborn matches my other story too. So you can think of this as the continuation of Téli and Farkas' relationship. Its spicy now!

~~~~~

Part 1, Sneaking into Jorrvaskr

He felt like a teenager sneaking around. Sneaking girls into Jorrvaskr was something he hadn't done in years, decades even. Yet here he was tripping his way through the darkness, struggling to stay quiet with a lady on his arm.

The night started innocently enough. The girls were tucked into their beds and Lydia agreed to watch over them for the night. Téli had promised to help unload some oak kegs for the tavern in exchange for drinks. Farkas was more than happy to join her. One mead flowed into another and soon their pleasant conversation morphed into shameless flirting.

Flirting then became far dirtier than Farkas thought he'd be capable of. He wasn't typically a horny drunk, nor did he even feel intoxicated, but Téli's suggestive tone was infectious. She may have been shy about her feelings for him at first, but in their time together she had grown quite confident. She now frequently expressed her adoration for him, and her desire for him in other ways. He normally would have been flustered by how open she was with her attraction to him. Yet tonight, he wasn't. When Téli said she wished to strip him down and trace every single inch of him with her tongue, all he could do was grab her by the hand and drag her out of the pub. The sound of his whispered promise to grant her wish echoing in her ear.

They tripped over the benches lining the hall, barely managing to keep themselves upright. Her warm blush and even warmer hands were making it hard to concentrate on anything but how he could get her somewhere private. He almost felt foolish about how they giggled their way to the washroom. Yet, he couldn't feel ashamed as the door to the washroom closed and locked behind them. Téli turned to look at him with her eyes dark and shining.

He let himself be pulled back to her. He let her trail sloppy kisses across his jaw in between giggles. He positively preened as she found her way to his mouth and immediately worked his bottom lip between her own. He let himself unabashedly press himself against her despite the thick leather armor that they both wore.

She quickly understood the predicament, for she started to work on any clasp or tie she could find on his chest piece. It slid over his head as soon as it was loose enough. Two sets of hands quickly worked on her own armor next until Farkas was able to press Téli back against the door and this time feel the curves of her body pressed against him through their thin cottons.

"I found something." Téli laughed. The thought crashed into her mind when Farkas placed a soft bite to her neck.

"Hmm?" He grunted against her skin.

"I found a book in my travels that speaks of a man's relationship with a wolf much like yourself." She spoke softly but he could feel her buzzing with excitement as she spoke. "He wrote all these poems about how he loved his partner...even during the full moon."

When Farkas pulled away to look at her, she simply wagged her eyebrows. "Full moon" she repeated slowly with a honeyed smile.

As she expected, it took Farkas a moment to completely register what she was referring to. His head cocked to the side in a way Téli has seen now hundreds of times. A look of his she was very fond of. She smiled the best she could while fighting her urge to kiss him again. He was always so cute when he looked like that. Then his eyes widened and his mouth went slack, just the corners of his lips quirk up into a smile despite himself.

"You'd want..."he started to initiate the question, but his voice fell flat as he tried to think about it all. He tried to picture it, and he couldn't quite. Certainly couldn't. He didn't understand why she'd want....and he wasn't even...he had not yet tried what she implied, could the beast even...?

A slender and yet calloused hand slips up the back of his neck. Fingers soon tangle themselves in dark hair she was happy to have convinced him to wash that morning. He typically considered the process of hair washing to be unnecessary, but he was doing it more frequently when Téli was around, she did seem to appreciate it.

Téli kissed him gently, letting him slowly fall into the sensation. She could tell she stressed him out at the thought of it. Soothing him with a kiss was in order. After a moment Téli could feel his shoulders drop and his lips more insistent. Pressing himself to her just to feel her, breathe her in. Their kisses grew and grew in intensity until Téli felt the urge to try her suggestion again.

She leaned into him and nestled her lips to the back of his ear. She breathed in his hair and hummed before suddenly she pulled his hair with just enough force to lull his head to the side for a moment before guiding his face back to her lips. She kissed him hard, then trailed kisses up his jaw line.

Her voice was now directly by his ear now. "I'm not saying let's do it right now. I want...I want...." she paused, her other hand grabbing onto Farkas' hip to keep them pressed together more securely. He breathed heavily, twisting his head to kiss and nuzzle her neck. She was so warm against him. On one side her fingers were running randomly though his hair, pulling oh so slightly with every kiss he placed on her neck and shoulder. On the other her fingers press themselves along his hip. "I want," she panted in his ear and Gods, Farkas felt her warm breath shoot from his face directly to his groin. "I want you to be more carefree sometimes. With me. I want to see you as secure in your own strength as I think you are when you're...changed. I want...to try"

The way she was breathing in his ear faltered. She was breathing heavier each moment. She ground her hips against his, shaking. He had never seen Téli so worked up before. He felt unnaturally hard in his cottons. Gods, this woman drove him wild. He knew at that moment he'd be open to literally anything as long as it was with her.

"I want...want you to ravish me. I want to know what it's like to feel all your strength, and passion, and power pulsating inside me. I want your claws running down my back. I..." she paused at the feeling of Farkas grabbing her ass, hard. "I..."

"You talk too much, lassy." He growled, lifting her up and marching to the table in the corner of the room.

Her back hit the table with a thud, before quickly being rolled over. Farkas' hands her on her hips then, pulling her down the table till her legs dangled off, and she found her footing. Now that Téli was obscenely bent over the table, her ass was too inviting. Lowering to his knees behind her Farkas growled, grabbing around each thigh and gripping hard. Téli turned her head to see and was met with a Farkas licking his lips before descending to his goal.

"Fuck" Téli muttered, heart stammering.

"Ravished, hmm?" Farkas chuckled before his tongue tasted the splendor in front of him.

By the morning, Farkas was certain of three things.

One. Téli was a creature of pure wonder. She was his soul. She was his love. She owed him a night of her tracing his skin with her tongue.

Two. The table definitely broke from the ferocity of their love making.

And Three. The entire hall absolutely knew what they did.

Téli on the other hand was focused on one thought as she snuggled Farkas in their makeshift bed of furs and towels.

She was going to fuck a werewolf. Maybe even write a book about it.

~~~

Any monster-f@ckers want a part two?! I'm nervous but excited to write some! ❤

Also posted on my AO3

https://archiveofourown.org/works/32716552/chapters/81166237

#skyrim fanfiction #Farkas #monster fucker #werewolves #elder scrolls skyrim #fanfic #Story Time

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avomorg · 4 years

Note

can we read anything for the glass cutter AU? Its living in my brain rent free and I neeeeed more 0-0 Its so amazing <3

Unfortunately (or fortunately), this is not just a romantic story, it's just that I'm drawing one challenge right now. :) I'm sorry, there is a lot of text here.

I use this tag to mark posts related to story of my main character, Hani. The presence of the OC changes the events of the plot of the series, so I can say that this is AU. Since this is not a single plot, but a story associated with almost each of the seasons of Ninjago, AU doesn't have a single idea. But I can say that this is a story where there is another ninja in the team.

I know there are many such characters, and this AU was originally made just for fun. But maybe I can make something good out of it.

I have a detailed article describing Hani's storyline, but I haven't translated it yet, so I'll tell you the most important things.

Hani is the daughter of Wu's ally, Keyon. During the events of the pilot episode, he was killed by skeletons – so Wu said. Hani then became the new master of glass.

Hani studied at Darkley's Boarding School for Great Children, where the ninjas worked as teachers after the second season. She could not learn to control the element on her own, so the glass was attracted to her against her will and left cuts. The ninjas noticed this, but didn't going to interfere, but Zane took pity on the girl. He became involved with her despite Wu's ban (he didn't need the daughter of Keyon, because Keyon died through Wu's fault). Hani became very attached to Zane, with whom she felt safe. He taught the girl frightened by her abilities to find strength in herself. Zane was not sure if her abilities were similar to those of a ninja, but he understood that they should be used for the good of Ninjago so that Hani would not use them for evil. Therefore, he did his best to have Hani join the ninja team and be under their supervision. To do this, he had to argue with his friends and Wu.

In Rebooted, Zane managed to gain Hani's recognition as a team member. Yes, she was weaker than a ninjas, but over time she could become a good fighter – and, most importantly, her abilities would not threaten the safety of Ninjago. Unfortunately, Zane died, and the ninjas didn't want to take responsibility for the girl, so they left her in the care of Garmadon.

After the death of Zane, she was devastated, as after losing her father. But she continued to train alongside Lloyd and Garmadon. Constant training and the desire to be stronger made her character quite tough, but she could confidently fight the enemy. Garmadon didn't like her aggression and too strong will to win, he tried to make Hani more calm.

In the Tournament of Elements, these problems intensified. Clouse skillfully used Hani's aggression, making her an enemy for all other participants in the Tournament. The girl herself, due to the constant use of the element in battles, lost her common sense. Even her appearance began to change. In the end, Clouse was almost able to get her to fight by his side – but Hani was too dangerous, so Chen decided to get rid of her. She was thrown in the desert, chained to the skeleton of some monster. Hani missed the battle in the Elders' Corridors. It was only after this hard lesson that she realized the importance of Garmadon's ideas. But it was already too late.

Maybe Hani would have died in the desert... If not for Morro. He introduced himself as a poor traveler and helped her get out of the chains, while learning from Hani about what is happening in Ninjago. Later they met as opponents. Morro offered Wu to exchange Lloyd for one of the ninjas (this was an attempt to eliminate Nya; if the elements returned to the ninjas, Wu would not develop her abilities). Wu traded Lloyd for Hani. Master never wanted to take her on the team and thus got rid of her. Hani realized that Lloyd was more valuable to the team than she was, and also she hoped to get rid of Wu with Morro's help. As a result, Morro and Hani tried to manipulate each other, but they succeeded equally badly – so they only learned the secrets and weaknesses of each other, being in the same body. Both became vulnerable to each other, so they ceased to be strangers. At the end of Possession, Hani pulled Morro out of the water, creating her Elemental Dragon for the first time. Morro was unable to surrender and die when he had a living ally.

After Morro stayed with the ninjas, the course of events in the canon changed quite a lot.

In the Skybound, Hani looked for ways to bring Morro back to life. But first, Wu had to be convinced to remove the curse from the student. While trying to complete these tasks, Hani found herself trapped like the other ninjas. But Morro was used to achieving everything himself and remained at large, and in the end he helped Jay and his team.

Day of the Departed was the perfect moment to bring Morro back to life. Wu surrendered and removed the curse from him, the portal is open and can let Morro through. But his fear of being unprepared for life almost ruined everything. Morro considers Yang's fate unfair and was ready to give him a place in the world of the living. Cole practically forcibly sent Morro into the portal so that he would not interfere in the fight between the master of the earth and Yang.

In the Recording (fanseason) reveals the stories of the Morro and Hani families. The wind masters are associated with the Cloud Kingdom, which is now in danger. Only Morro, whose fate is in his own hands, can fight the lord of fate. Hani and Lloyd go in search of the Master of Writing, because only they can actively move between worlds: Lloyd is a descendant of the FSM, and Hani, like the former glass masters, is called upon to protect him and follow him. The fates of Morro and Hani, written in the scrolls of their fates, are contrary to their wishes, and they must deal with this.

You can find a little more information about Record on my Instagram, later I want to make full posts here.

During the fight with the Hands of Time, Hani was almost glad that Wu had resigned and supported Lloyd as the new leader. But gradually she began to sympathize with Wu, despite what he had done in the past. The fact that he sacrificed himself to save the students changed Hani's opinion of him. But Morro still hasn't forgiven the teacher. He believed that Wu couldn't just disappear from the life of a ninjas.

The events of the Sons of Garmadon are changed: Lloyd approaches Harumi not because of sympathy for her (since he is already in a relationship with another character, besides, sympathy for the girl is too weak a hook), but because of the desire to bring his father back to life. But to bring back the real Garmadon, not his evil appearance. The real Garmadon will be able to deal with the Sons, like the Anacondrai generals with Chen's army. Harumi, like the entire imperial family, belongs to a mysterious association that knows the secrets of resurrection from the dead. Mysticism and a blind desire to meet his father again deprives Lloyd of the ability to think sanely, and he believes Harumi. Can't a whole secret society lie? Unbeknownst to Lloyd, Harumi bribed the respected Ninjago explorers and mystics to put on this whole show. But Morro doesn't trust the imperial family, since he once participated in the war between the dynasties. He is confident that the Sons of Garmadon are ruled by the descendants of the overthrown dynasty. He doesn't believe in the resurrection of Garmadon and condemns such attachment of Lloyd to his dead father. Morro is also suspicious of Harumi's physical fitness. He is a dangerous foe, so the Sons are trying to eliminate him. Hani generally agrees with Morro, but she still really wants to see Garmadon, so she doesn't want to suspect Harumi. Morro is on a ship and enters the Realm of Oni and Dragons, Hani stays with Lloyd. Before parting, Morro manages to conclude a Yin-Yang Promise with her.

In Hunted, Morro didn't lose heart and settled in the desert - he was used to wandering and starving. Morro tried to save the wind dragon from the Hunters, but failed, was punished, and nearly died. Despite all this, the cruel world of Oni and Dragons came to his liking. As Wu grew older, he and Morro finally found a common language and came to an agreement. Hani at this time trying to continue the fight after the loss of Morro and Zane. She becomes cruel again, like in the Tournament. Due to the destruction of the city in the streets a lot of broken glass, and with so many shells Hani can easily destroy enemies. Harumi gives the order to clear the streets of glass in order to deprive the Resistance of such a dangerous and ubiquitous weapon, but getting rid of all the glass in the city is impossible. The ninjas returned in time – blinded by grief, Hani has not yet lost herself, as in the Tournament.

Morro and Hani already hope for a respite and calm, but Oni's appearance again forces them to be ready for battle. Hani has both interest and disgust for Garmadon, who was resurrected by Harumi. Morro willingly communicates with him, Garmadon cannot really offend him with his sharp remarks. Hani greatly fears for Lloyd's life as he and Garmadon descend into the Darkness. After Cole's fall, Hani tries not to lose control of herself, as she did before. Morro tries to use the wind to pull Cole out of the Darkness, but is unable to break through the cloud. In the final battle with Oni, Morro and Hani use Spinjitzu. Morro is hesitant to team up with the others in the Tornado of Creation because he is unsure of his ability to use Spinjitzu, but Hani persuades him to take the risk. After the completion of the Tornado, Morro hits hard against the wall of the monastery. This encourages him to actively learn Spinjitzu.

The Secrets of the Forbidden Spinjitzu events have been changed, but I haven't finished the AU for this season yet. For now, I can say that the ninjas ended up in the tomb of snakes not out of boredom, but because of the deception of Clutch Powers: he competed with a young researcher for a place in the Club and wanted to use the ninjas to pass traps in the tomb. The Forbidden Spinjitzu is a special elimination weapon used by the FSM to purge Ninjago of its serious competitors. The theme of not just winning, but eliminating enemies runs through the entire season and makes it darker, because the enemy of the ninjas is now Zane. And he is not going to negotiate with them.

Hani's story in 12-13 seasons in progress.

Thanks for reading to the end!

#hani shane #glass cutter au #ninjago record

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olivemac · 3 years

Text

heartbeat | chapter six | b.b.

Summary | When Steve Rogers asks Kate Stark to find the Winter Soldier, she gets too involved.

Notes | Captain America: Civil War re-write, essentially. Starts just after the events of CA: Winter Soldier.

Pairing | Bucky Barnes x fem!oc, Bucky Barnes x Stark!oc

Genre | romance

Rating | explicit

Story Warnings | mild angst, fluff, romance tropes, so many romance tropes, coarse language, alcohol use, canon-typical violence, smut (m/f), oral sex (f&m receiving), 18+ ONLY

Chapter Warnings | canon-typical violence, coarse language

Citation | Russo, J., & Russo, A. (2016). Captain America: Civil War. Walt Disney Studios Motion Pictures.

A/N #1 | FINALLY got this rewritten. Final chapter coming very soon, as well as a "lost scene" between chapters three and four.

A/N #2 | Feedback is encouraged! Let me know your thoughts.

master list | AO3 link

_____

prev chapter

_____

The next morning, the rest of Sam and Steve's plan comes together on the sixth level of a parking garage at the Leipzig/Halle airport. Steve pulls the car into a spot next to a grey van and gets out to greet Clint and Wanda.

"Cap," Clint says, shaking Steve's hand.

"You know I wouldn't have called if I had any other choice," Steve tells him.

"Hey man, you're doing me a favor," Clint says. "Besides, I owe a debt."

Steve looks at Wanda. "Thanks for having my back."

"It was time to get off my ass," she replies.

Kate, standing by Bucky next to the Volkswagen, nods her hello to Wanda and Clint.

"How about our other recruit?" Steve asks Clint.

"He's raring to go." Clint walks over to the van and opens the sliding back door. "Had to put a little coffee in him, but...he should be good."

The man lying across the backseat jolts up at the sound of the van door. "What time zone is this?" he asks.

"Come on. Come on," Clint says, pushing him forward.

The man shakes Steve's hand. "Captain America."

"Mr. Lang," Steve says.

"It's an honor. I'm shaking your hand too long," Scott Lang says, dropping Steve's hand. "Wow! This is awesome! Captain America." He turns to look at Wanda. "I know you, too. You're great!" When he looks back at Steve, Scott can't stop himself from feeling his broad shoulders. "Jeez," he says.

Steve looks over his shoulder at Bucky and Kate, and Kate raises her eyebrows at him in a silent question of "Who is this guy?"

"Ah, look," Scott continues, "I want to say, I know you know a lot of super people, so...thinks for thanking of me." He mixes up the words in his excitement, then turns to Sam, "Hey, man!"

"What's up, Tic Tac?" Sam greets.

"Uh, good to see you. Look, what happened last time when I..." Scott trails off.

"It was a great audition," Sam says, shaking his head, "but it'll...it'll never happen again."

"They tell you what we're up against?" Steve asks.

"Something about some...psycho-assassins?" Scott answers.

"We're outside the law on this one," Steve tells him. "So, if you come with us, you're a wanted man."

"Yeah, well, what else is new?" Scott says, shrugging.

"We should get moving," Bucky speaks up.

"We've got a chopper lined up," Clint tells Steve before a man's voice comes over the public announcement system in German.

"They're evacuating the airport," Bucky says.

"Stark," Sam says.

"Stark?" Lang questions.

Bucky looks at Kate. "You're not coming."

"Two things," she says, holding up two fingers. "First, I work for and own shares in a former weapons manufacturer started by my father. Second, I came to a foreign country as a single woman, alone, to find the Winter Soldier. Do you really think I came unprepared?"

She enters a code into the smart watch on her wrist and it transforms into a smaller version of Tony's Iron Man gauntlet, wrapping around her wrist and hand, leaving her fingers free.

"It's a repulsor," she says, pointing it at Sam.

"Nuh-uh, no," he says, holding up a finger.

"Plus, I know some self-defense," she says. "Romanoff trained me."

"So, she could probably kill us all," Clint says, smirking. Scott looks momentarily worried, and Kate winks at him.

Wanda hands Kate a duffel bag. "Thought you might want this," she says. Inside Kate finds a Stark Industries-designed tactical suit and a laptop.

"Thanks, love," Kate tells Wanda.

When she turns back to Bucky, he's staring at her. "What?" she asks.

"Nothing," he says, shaking his head, but his smile is wider than she's seen it in a while.

_____

While the rest of the team spreads out across the airport, Kate hangs back in a terminal, trying to hack into Tony's Iron Man suit. It's a long shot, but she wrote some of the code for FRIDAY so she thinks she might be able to shut down a few functions.

"Sir, Miss Stark is attempting take us offline," FRIDAY informs Tony.

"Shut her out," Tony says. "And remind me to ground her when this is over."

In the terminal, Kate's screen flashes the message "Nice try, sis" before going black. She slams the laptop closed.

"Fuck," she exclaims.

"We found it," Sam comes in over the comms. "Their Quinjet's in hangar five, north runway."

"I'm closest," Kate says.

"You know how to fly that thing, doll?" Bucky asks.

She smirks even though he can't see her. "There's a lot you don't know about me, Sergeant Barnes," she says, her voice heavy with innuendo.

Sam groans, "Please stop."

_____

With what's left of the Avenger's distracted by Steve's team, Kate is able to make her way to hangar five without any incident. She ascends the Quinjet's ramp and preps for flight.

"I'm in," she says over the comms.

"We're almost to you," Steve tells her.

From outside the Quinjet, Kate hears Natasha shout, "Get out of the jet, Katie."

She stands at the top of the ramp, not descending. "You know I can't do that, Nat," she says, shaking her head.

"Is he really worth all of this?" Nat asks.

Kate doesn't hesitate before answering. "Yes."

Near the entrance of the hangar, a control tower collapses. Steve and Bucky come running through the debris. Nat stands between them and the Quinjet.

"You're not going to stop," she says to Steve. It's not a question.

Steve shakes his head. "You know I can't."

Nat sighs, "I'm going to regret this." She lifts her wrist and fires an electric charge from her Black Widow's Bite, stunning T'Challa who stands behind Steve, ready to avenge his father’s death in the UN bombing.

"Go," Nat says.

Steve and Bucky join Kate on the Quinjet. "Glad you could make it," she says as Steve slides into the pilot's seat.

_____

Bucky and Kate sit behind Steve in the Quinjet, not speaking. Bucky's mind is a jumble of questions he wants to ask them both. He starts with Steve.

"What's going to happen to your friends?" Bucky asks.

Steve sighs and shakes his head. "Whatever it is...I'll deal with it."

Bucky stares straight ahead. "I don't know if I'm worth all this, Steve."

Steve glances at Bucky. "What you did all those years...it wasn't you. You didn't have a choice."

"I know," Bucky says, then looks at Steve, "but I did it."

Kate bites her bottom lip and stays silent.

_____

Somewhere outside of Moscow’s airspace, Kate's phone dings. She pulls up an encrypted email from Tony.

"Steve, you need to see this," she says.

She opens a file detailing who the doctor in Berlin really was: Colonel Helmut Zemo. Steve studies the information, his mouth set in a hard line.

"Who the hell is this guy?" Kate asks.

"He's Sokovian," Steve finally says, and Kate can see in his eyes that he's still haunted by what happened in the small country.

"At least Tony knows the truth now," she says.

Steve only nods.

_____

Steve brings the Quinjet to land in the snow on a remote mountain top and kills the engine. Kate pulls out a rack of guns labeled 'Romanoff' and hands Bucky a machine gun. She takes a pistol for herself from a cabinet above and places it in her thigh holster. She can feel Bucky's questioning eyes on her again.

"Tony used to take me shooting every year for my birthday," she says.

"You sure about this?" he asks. She knows what he's asking, if she's sure about risking her life for him, choosing him over Tony.

"Always," she says, and she kisses him on the cheek before sliding another pistol into the back of her belt.

She moves to stand behind Bucky and Steve as the exit ramp of the jet descends.

Steve turns to Bucky and asks, "You remember that time we had to ride back from Rockaway Beach in the back of that freezer truck?"

"Was that the time we used our train money to buy hot dogs?" Bucky asks, smiling.

"You blew three bucks trying to win that stuffed bear for a redhead," Steve says.

"What was her name again?" Bucky asks.

"Dolores. You called her Dot."

"Should I be jealous?" Kate chimes in.

Bucky smiles again. "She's got to be a hundred years old right now."

"So are we, pal," Steve says, clapping him on the back.

Kate follows closely behind Steve and Bucky as they enter the bunker. On a lower level, a loud thud catches their attention, and they all turn as a set of double doors are forced apart by Tony in his Iron Man suit.

He steps forward and retracts his helmet.

"So, you're done being a jackass?" Kate asks, lowering her weapon slightly.

"You seem a little defensive," Tony says. Steve takes a few steps toward him without lowering his shield. Behind him, Bucky keeps his gun aimed at Tony.

"It's been a long day," Steve says.

"At ease, Soldier," Tony says to Bucky. "I'm not currently after you."

"So, why are you here?" Steve asks. He wants to hear Tony admit he was wrong.

"Could be your story's not so crazy," Tony says. "Maybe. Ross has no idea I'm here. I'd like to keep it that way. Otherwise, I got to arrest myself."

"Well, that sounds like a lot of paperwork," Steve replies, lowering his shield. "It's good to see you, Tony."

"You too, Cap," Tony says, then he turns at Kate. "Katie."

"Big brother," Kate says.

Tony looks at Bucky. "Hey, Manchurian Candidate," he says, "You're killing me. There's a truce here. You can drop..."

Steve indicates to Bucky that he can lower his weapon and he does.

The four of them continue through the bunker, with Bucky keeping Kate between himself and Steve. Tony, with his helmet reengaged, leads the group into a large chamber holding several cryo capsules.

"I've got heat signatures," he says.

"How many?" Steve asks.

Tony hesitates. "Uh, one."

As they enter, the lights come on and the cryo capsules fill with a hazy, yellow mist. They can see that the capsules contain the other super soldiers. Kate catches Bucky's eye and they share a bewildered look.

A voice comes over an intercom system. "If it's any comfort, they died in their sleep," Zemo says. "Did you really think I wanted more of you?"

As they draw closer, they can see that each soldier has been shot in the head.

"What the hell?" Bucky mutters.

"I'm grateful to them, though," Zemo continues. "They brought you here."

A light in a control room at the back of the chamber comes on, illuminating Zemo's face. Steve hurls his shield toward the small window, but it flies back.

"Please, Captain," Zemo says, "The Soviets built this chamber to withstand the launch blast of UR-100 rockets."

"I'm betting I could beat that," Tony says.

"Oh, I'm sure you could, Mr. Stark. Given time. But then you'd never know why you came."

"You killed innocent people in Vienna just to bring us here?" Steve asks, making his way to the door that separates Zemo from the rest of them.

"I thought about nothing else for over a year. I studied you. I followed you. But now that you're standing here, I just realized," Zemo pauses, "...there's a bit of green in the blue of your eyes." He chuckles. "How nice to find a flaw."

"You're Sokovian," Steve says. "Is that what this is about?"

"Sokovia was a failed state long before you blew it to hell. No," Zemo shakes his head. "I'm here because I made a promise."

"You lost someone?"

Zemo clicks his tongue. "I lost everyone. And so will you."

A small screen to Steve's left comes to life.

"An empire toppled by its enemies can rise again," Zemo continues. "But one which crumbles from within? That's dead. Forever."

Tony steps up to the screen, his helmet retracted, and studies the grainy security footage of a secluded road.

"I know that road," he says. He turns to Zemo, "What is this?"

Kate steps up behind him. "It's...." she starts but doesn't finish. She can't pull her eyes away from the date at the bottom of the screen: December 16, 1991.

The tape plays. The car on screen crashes into a tree, and Kate gasps. She watches as her father tumbles out of the driver's side door and a man approaches. She can hear her father's voice in her head before he speaks: "Help my wife, my daughter. Please. Help." Bucky can't look at Kate; he doesn't want to see the realization dawn on her face, doesn't want to watch it turn to hatred. When her father looks to the man above him with recognition and says, "Sergeant Barnes?" Kate sobs. She isn't sure how her legs are still holding her up, and she can taste bile in her mouth.

When the tape ends, Tony lunges toward Bucky.

Steve stops him. "Tony. Tony."

Tony turns to Steve, tears in his eyes, "Did you know?"

"I didn't know it was him," Steve says.

"Don't bullshit me, Rogers! Did you know?" he asks again.

"Yes," Steve answers. Tony pushes him away.

Kate finally turns to look at Bucky. He's not sure he can handle the tears running down her face. "You could have killed me," she says. "You should have killed me. Why didn't you?" Her voice grows progressively louder with each statement.

"You weren't my mission," he says quietly. But it's a lie. The mission called for no witnesses. He doesn't know why Kate is still alive. But he remembers her wide, scared eyes looking up at him that night, not unlike how she's looking at him now, and his heart feels like it might crack in two.

"So, what?" Tony shouts. "The Winter Soldier has a conscience? You don't kill kids? Just leave them orphaned?" He lunges for Bucky again.

"Tony, stop," Kate says, reaching for him.

Tony turns to her quickly. "You're grounded, Katie," he says, and he fires a low-voltage stun from his repulsor that knocks her unconscious. Bucky lets out a deep growl as Kate's body hits the floor.

The fight that breaks out is chaotic. Steve is certain that Tony will kill Bucky, and he isn't confident that Bucky won't be able to keep himself from killing Tony to protect Kate.

"Get out of here," he roars at Bucky, and he throws himself between the two of them.

"It wasn't him, Tony," Steve shouts. "HYDRA had control of his mind!"

"Move!" Tony demands.

"It wasn't him!"

But Tony isn't letting up. Tony gets Bucky the neck and seethes, "Do you even remember them?"

"I remember all of them," Bucky growls and pushes off from the platform he's on, taking Tony with him.

_____

When Kate wakes, her head is pounding. She gets to her feet slowly and looks around. Zemo is gone, having used the chaos as an opportunity to escape, and she can't see Bucky, Steve, or Tony anywhere. The room is eerily quiet. She stands still for a moment, taking deep breaths and waiting for a wave of nausea to pass. She's fairly sure she has a concussion.

As her vision becomes clearer and the ringing in her ears dies away, Steve appears at the entrance of the room with Bucky beside him. They're leaning on each other and seem to both be holding the other up. Bucky's titanium arm has been blown away, and Kate gasps at the sight. Steve doesn't look much better. She makes her way to them and presses her palm against Bucky's bloody cheek. The sight of him in pain momentarily outweighs her heartbreak at the recent revelations about her parents. He hisses at the touch to his bruised face, and she pulls her hand away quickly.

"Sorry," she says. But he shakes his head.

Kate turns to Steve. "Where's Tony?"

Steve gives a nod over his shoulder toward the silo where he left Tony with the shield, and says, "It's over."

Kate wants to ask more questions, but she doesn't think now is the time. She follows the two super soldiers out of the bunker and back to the Quinjet.

_____

Aboard the Quinjet, Kate finds one of Tony's T-shirts and wraps it around what's left of Bucky's arm to cover the jagged metal. Then she pulls out the first aid kit and wipes the blood from his face. They haven't spoken about the tape or that night in 1991, and neither of them know what to say. So, they both stay silent.

When she finishes with Bucky, Kate makes Steve sit still so she can clean his wounds, as well. He watches her closely as she bandages his bloody knuckles.

"I'm sorry about Tony," he says. "About what he did to you back there."

"Thanks," she says. "I've never seen him like that. He...," she pauses, "I know he feels guilty about what happened, things he said to Dad before he died, things he didn't say. And then...having to raise me. It was a lot for him."

"And you?" Steve asks.

Kate is quiet for a moment before answering. “They died before I even knew them. The only memory I have of them is this dream of the night of the crash and a man I thought was a figment of my imagination. Turns out.…” She doesn’t finish the thought.

“It wasn’t him,” Steve says. “Not really.”

She looks over at Bucky, slumped in one of the seats on the other side of the jet. She knows he's listening, but he doesn't look up. "I know," she tells Steve, meeting his eyes again with a soft smile.

Kate closes the first aid kid and stands. Before she turns away from Steve, she says, "You knew. Nat knew, and she left it out of the file. You could have told me."

Steve looks up at her. "Would you have helped me find him?"

"I don't know," she says. She looks at Bucky again. "But I'm glad I did."

_____

final chapter

#bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #sergeant barnes #bucky barnes x oc #bucky x oc #bucky barnes x ofc #bucky x ofc #bucky fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes romance

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jurijurijurious · 3 years

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Writerly ephemera meme

I was tagged by @thisbluespirit in this rather intriguing meme!

Find five bits of yourself that you gave to your fiction (memories and places and phrases and things into our stories), post and tag five or more writers to share as well.

Now I know I do write bits of myself and my experiences into my stories, one way or another, I think everyone does, but it doesn’t half put you on the spot when you have to try to remember where you’ve done it!

1) I know that recently I wrote Walsingham passing out at the end of a scene in “Mea Culpa”. The entire description is based on personal experience. I went through a scary few years as a young teen where I would pass out for little to no reason, usually at school where there were lots of people watching to cause me huge embarrassment, which then almost gave me a form of PTSD. I was constantly anxious about fainting, it was not good, and we never found out why it happened. But that’s another story... I still occasionally pass out but it’s usually for a reason, after having a vaccine or blood taken or something, but the whole process of fainting, though horrible, is like an old nemesis to me, uncomfortably familiar. I generally feel intense sickness in my stomach, my vision is puckered increasingly with white dots, my entire body comes out in a sweat, and I hear a high pitched whistle-type noise as I lose consciousness. And so since that is my experience, it became Wals’s too:

His palms sweated, his pulse raced... He shuddered and emitted another strangled breath, fingers white where he clutched the window sill, body trembling. He needed rest. Ursula's voice was becoming distant, the room was swaying like the deck of a ship caught in a storm. He felt a sudden nausea in his stomach, could hear a high pitched sound in his ears, a siren's wail beckoning him into the abyss.

“I am sorry. So very sorry,” he whispered, though he knew not exactly who he was addressing. His own voice now sounded as if it was coming from underwater, far away; he was drowning and could resist no more, slipped where he stood and descended into the open arms of oblivion.

2) This is another Walsibeth example I’m afraid because I haven’t written anything else for about a decade! So... Though the pandemic and my lack of funds has put a temporary hold to my hobby of horse riding, I am a half-capable rider and love tearing across country if opportunity allows on horseback. I can thus write people riding horses (English style, anyway) with a degree of accuracy. So in my smutty one-shot fic “In perpetuum et unum diem” (the one which is mostly a pastiche of the raunchy finale of “The Tudors” season 1, and also an excuse for me to write shameless sex), I began the ficlet with a bit of a horse-race between Bess and Wals to get the blood up (a scene that in itself mirrors Elizabeth’s racing with Raleigh in TGA, I later realised). Though I personally haven’t raced a person on horseback per se, I have done beach rides and also ridden on a horseback safari in Africa where you gallop as a group, and “giving your horse its head” is the order of the day! So a lot of this passage is me:

She turned her head back over her shoulder and caught Francis’ eyes. His lip quirked slightly at the corner but otherwise there was no change to his countenance. But that was enough. Her smile deepend as if to invite him to race her and she turned her head back around, gave her dappled grey mare its head and pressed her calves to its flanks. And the beast responded, driving its legs harder, faster, into a gallop and flew like a falcon through the trees.

...

As the wind flew in Elizabeth’s face, making her eyes water, a great whoop of exhilaration escaped her. There was nothing but her and the horse, and the knowledge that her blackguard of a lover galloped behind her. This was what it should feel like to live, even in tragically brief snippets; to feel the blood in your veins, the air in your chest, and the sun on your face, wild and free.

They then jump a tree trunk which I’d love to say I’d do, and I might, but most of my falls have been from jumping so I’d probably wimp out and go the long way around... ;)

3) Annnd another one from my Walsibeth fic “Mea Culpa”, just because it’s fresh in my mind. When I was driving to work last winter, there was one Sunday morning which had a jaw-droppingly beautiful sunrise. I tried to take a photo of it but could not do it justice. I did find a photo of Lincoln Cathedral on instagram from the same morning though which captured the sky perfectly. It literally looked like the sky was on fire, or something, and I immediately worked this memory into my story! I felt that a sky like that would make the perfect backdrop for a single, forlorn, broken bastard riding his horse in a clear, freezing morning:

There was a strange light in the sky as the sun began to make its ascent. It turned a deep crimson then lifted to shades of rich amber and gold; this combined with the few grey clouds passing overhead gave it the illusion of a huge fire, as if a great furnace now filled the heavens. Some might have called it beautiful, others would see a grim omen.

4) I had a look in my dreaded old fic archive, so full of cringe, and I found this from the end of my Doctor Who fic “Choices”, which I reckon I wrote between 2005-2006, possibly finishing it later than that. This scene right at the end (told from the perspective of Rose and the ninth Doctor’s daughter, Hope) is literally my old senior school - the class length, the finish time, the uniform was what I wore, and my history teacher was Mrs. Gaskin, and my mum would be waiting in her car to pick me and my sisters up:

By a quarter-to-three in the afternoon, she was in another History lesson with Mrs. Gaskin, and was spending another forty-five minutes hearing about the Black Death, the plague doctors, and the red crosses that were painted on people’s doors. It was fascinating, but Hope’s concentration wasn’t there. She kept looking out of the window at the school yard, noticing the little details that other days she would take for granted - like the way the trees swayed in the wind, the way a crisp-packet rolled across the concrete, and the pure azure-blue colour of the cloudless sky. Something was afoot but she had no idea what it was, or why she was feeling this way.

The bell rang finally at the end of the lesson, as the clock read three-thirty, and the class disappeared swiftly out of the door. It was home time! The voices of myriads of children echoed and shrilled down the corridors, and desperate feet, eager to get home, pounded down the stairs, making for the exits. White shirts were un-tucked from trouser and skirt hems, blue-and-red ties were loosened from about shirt collars, and black blazers were thrown off and carried over shoulders as the mass of pupils took flight.

Hope, however, took things slowly, almost as if she might never see them again, picking up on every smile, every individual laugh, and every joke pulled on every unsuspecting victim. She waved goodbye to friends, hitched her backpack over her shoulder, and made her way out of the school gates toward the spot where her mum or Uncle Jack would usually be waiting to pick her up. As she turned the corner onto Petunia Grove, though, she stopped and sighed. The car - either her mum’s or Jack’s - was not there.

Hope pursed her lips and shrugged, taking another good look around just to make sure that she hadn’t missed it, but there wasn’t a familiar car in sight. She thus let her bag slip off her shoulder, and she perched her backside on the street sign, swinging one of her feet back and forth as she waited for the arrival of her escort.

In the meantime, she couldn’t help but let her mind wander again, as it had been doing often throughout the day, and looked around the street. There was a blue tit on the hedge over the road, stood near a couple of sparrows and a robin. The front door of house number five was a brilliant shade of red, something which she had never really noticed before, and there was some graffiti on the road sign on the opposite side of the street. It read ‘Bad’ something or other, but she couldn’t read the other word since it was blocked off by the blue box.

Hope blinked and slowly rose to her feet. It couldn’t be…

5) And for number five, this is a short extract from the an unpublished Star Wars fic I wrote around 2010, where I tried for what must have been the third time to re-write the Star Wars nonsense I wrote as a teenager, all starring my very Mary Sue OC, Nadia, who became Vader’s apprentice and was mentored by Veers. I have here again worked my experiences of passing out into the story - a psychologist would have a field day with me. Nadia’s thoughts about showing weakness were also real fears of mine - I never liked to be weak, to be ill, to be a burden, and my character was the mouthpiece for my own self-disgust. It’s written in the first person with Nadia narrating in this scene where she accompanies General (Maximilian) Veers to the Kaminoan’s cloning facility to review further batches of troops and is taken ill by the experience of seeing the thousands of farmed foetuses:

Max nodded whilst I remained breathless and shaky in his shadow. I could not get those tiny, wriggling foetuses out of many head - they floated upon my consciousness, their inhuman eyes glaring into my face and their tiny hands reaching out toward me. I tried to rid myself of these infantile phantoms, but I could not, and I suddenly felt quite ill.

“We shall need many more in our next delivery,” Max told the creature, who began to babble on about the problems of this request, but was halted mid-sentence when Maximilian wheeled about and grabbed me, saying my name over and over. He disappeared amidst the snowstorm of white dots that littered my vision, however, and I collapsed upon the floor.

The next thing I knew, I was waking up in a bright, white room. The walls dazzled me for a moment and it took my eyes and my mind time to adjust and to recognise reality. I looked slowly at the plain walls, finding myself alone upon a bed with my hands by my sides and a drip feeding liquid into my arm. This seemed quite surreal - I knew I was not ill enough to warrant this - but I resolved to stay put until someone came to me. I felt extremely tired and I thought that I may as well take advantage of the rest.

I fell back to sleep again and, when I next woke, I saw Max sat in a chair beside me. I glanced about the room - we were alone. I looked at him uncertainly, my visage undoubtedly betraying the signs of my mortification, for he first said: “Do not worry, Nadia, I am not angry with you. It cannot always be helped.”

...

I wanted to defy him, to be strong, but no, I just showed him weakness and insecurity. What indignity was this?

Thanks for the tag, that was fun! I can’t think of 5 writers to tag but off the top of my head: @feuillesmortes, @robins-treasure and @captainofthegreenpeas? Have a go if you fancy.

#memes #writerly ephemera meme

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twoidiotwriters1 · 3 years

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Written In The Stars CXXXVII (Harry Potter xF!Oc)

A/N: Book 6 was beyond complicated to write due to some artistic choices I made lmao but again I do hope you guys like it even if I don’t feel it was perfect bc I enjoyed how most of it turned out -Danny

Words: 4,005

Series’ Masterlist

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Listen to: ‘The Black and White’ -by The Band CAMINO.

Chapter Thirty-Five: A Prophecy.

Harry walked back to his chair and sat down heavily.

"Five years ago you arrived at Hogwarts, Harry, safe and whole, as I had planned and intended. Well — not quite whole. You had suffered. I knew you would when I left you on your aunt and uncle's doorstep. I knew I was condemning you to ten dark and difficult years. I considered it almost a miracle when Emily agreed to move in next door so she could keep an eye on you..."

Even though Lord Voldemort perished that night in Godric's Hollow, his followers continue to hunt down answers for months, neither Harry nor Mel would've been safe in the wizarding world.

"You would be protected by an ancient magic of which he knows, which he despises, and which he has always, therefore, underestimated — to his cost. I am speaking, of course, of the fact that your mother died —and your father too, Mel— to save you. They gave you a lingering protection he never expected, a protection that flows in your veins to this day. I put my trust, therefore, in your mother's blood, Harry. I delivered you to her sister, her only remaining relative."

"She doesn't love me. She doesn't give a damn —"

"But she took you. She may have taken you grudgingly, furiously, unwillingly, bitterly, yet still she took you, and in doing so, she sealed the charm I placed upon you. Your mother's sacrifice made the bond of blood the strongest shield I could give you. And as for you, Mel, you were just a baby, therefore Voldemort's followers couldn't tell if you were as skilled as your dad. It was only until last year when Voldemort realized you were hiding great power."

"I still don't —"

"While you can still call home the place where your mother's blood dwells, Harry, there you cannot be touched or harmed by Voldemort. He shed her blood, but it lives on in you and her sister. Her blood became your refuge. You need return there only once a year, but as long as you can still call it home, there he cannot hurt you. Your aunt knows this. I explained what I had done in the letter I left, with you, on her doorstep. She knows that allowing you houseroom may well have kept you alive for the past fifteen years."

"My mother isn't a Dumbledore," Mel frowned. "If that's what kept Harry safe, living with his aunt, then why did I only meet you after I turned eleven?"

"You were a direct descendant from my brother and not me, you weren't in danger as much as Harry. Once I found out about your outbursts I talked to him, I knew you'd need his protection... I'm afraid his guilt stopped him. I've been taking his place, having you come into my office for a weekly lesson as a way to make sure you would be both, protected, while also learning to defend yourself."

Harry came into a new realization.

"You sent that Howler. You told my aunt to remember — it was your voice —"

"I thought that she might need reminding of the pact she had sealed by taking you. I suspected the dementor attack might have awoken her to the dangers of having you as a surrogate son."

"It did. Well — my uncle more than her. He wanted to chuck me out, but after the Howler came she — she said I had to stay. But what's this got to do with..."

"Five years ago, then, you arrived at Hogwarts, neither as happy nor as well-nourished as I would have liked, perhaps, yet alive and healthy. You were not a pampered little prince, but as normal a boy as I could have hoped under the circumstances. Thus far, my plan was working well."

The memory of that small boy came to her. He didn't look much different from the Harry sitting beside her, except perhaps, for the way his gaze had darkened.

He'd always known Harry and Mel would eventually be hunted, and he'd made sure they'd be ready. Dumbledore had a plan from the moment they set a foot in the castle. She wondered exactly how much of everything happened accidentally, and how much had been planned.

"I don't understand what you're saying."

"Don't you remember asking me, as you lay in the hospital wing, why Voldemort had tried to kill you when you were a baby? Ought I to have told you then? You do not see the flaw in the plan yet? No... perhaps not. Well, as you know, I decided not to answer you. Eleven, I told myself, was much too young to know. I had never intended to tell you when you were eleven. The knowledge would be too much at such a young age, just like I refused to tell Mel about the rumours surrounding our family."

'The knowledge would be too much at such a young age'. Now, after four years, Mel felt weaker than when she was eleven. Somehow thinner, and far more fragile.

"Do you see? Do you see the flaw in my brilliant plan now? I had fallen into the trap I had foreseen, that I had told myself I could avoid, that I must avoid."

"I don't —"

"I cared about you too much. I cared more for your happiness than your knowing the truth, more for your peace of mind than my plan, more for your life than the lives that might be lost if the plan failed. In other words, I acted exactly as Voldemort expects we fools who love to act."

Mel visibly deflated, a new wave of hurt crashing against her heart.

"So it's true, then?" She asked. "Caring only makes us weak?"

"My dear, I defy anyone who has watched you as I have —and I have watched you more closely than you can have imagined — not to want to save you more pain than you had already suffered. What did I care if numbers of nameless and faceless people and creatures were slaughtered in the vague future, if in the here and now you were alive, and well, and happy? I never dreamed that I would have such a pair of young souls on my hands..."

Mel had held something similar whenever she would reach out to kiss Harry, and nothing else in the world mattered when they were alone together... but after the third task, they were always so alone.

"...You came out of the maze last year, having watched Cedric Diggory die, having escaped death so narrowly yourself... you, Mel, gave away part of your own life, selflessly risking your own well-being just for the frail chance to see Harry again, and I did not tell you, because to tell you after having almost lost each other in such a way would've been beyond cruel, though I knew, now Voldemort had returned, I must do it soon.

And now, tonight, I know you have long been ready for the knowledge I have kept from you for so long, because you have proved that I should have placed the burden upon you before this. My only defence is this: I have watched you struggling under more burdens than any student who has ever passed through this school, and I could not bring myself to add another — the greatest one of all."

"...I still don't understand," Harry responded, though now his voice was a bit more quiet and fearful.

Dumbledore admitted what they already knew: Voldemort tried to kill him because of the prophecy, and he'd tried to stop it before it could be fulfilled. Now, years after and once again in a proper body, Voldemort set his mind on hearing the whole thing, looking for a way to end it.

The sun was fully out now, and as he finished, Mel felt the first glimmer of hope peering through.

"Mel broke the prophecy," Harry said quietly. "She crushed it against the ground..."

She closed her injured hand tightly without caring about the sharp pain that shot up to her elbow.

"I knew we could get rid of it."

"How?" Harry frowned. "How could you know?"

"Because that orb was merely the record of the prophecy kept by the Department of Mysteries. But the prophecy was made to somebody, and that person has the means of recalling it perfectly," Dumbledore explained, looking at her with a strange glint in his eyes.

"Who heard it?" asked Harry, though he already knew the answer.

"I did. On a cold, wet night sixteen years ago, in a room above the bar at the Hog's Head Inn. I had gone there to see an applicant for the post of Divination teacher, though it was against my inclination to allow the subject of Divination to continue at all. The applicant, however, was the great-great-granddaughter of a very famous, very gifted Seer, and I thought it common politeness to meet her. I was disappointed. It seemed to me that she had not a trace of the gift herself. I told her, courteously I hope, that I did not think she would be suitable for the post. I turned to leave."

As Dumbledore stood up to retrieve something from a cabinet, Mel continued her story.

"That was the reason why my uncle knew what Voldemort was looking for," She swallowed harshly. "As soon as that thing broke I recognized the figure. How could I not? We've been seeing her for three years..."

Dumbledore came back holding the Pensieve, he put the tip of his wan on one temple and pulled, Mel stood up abruptly.

"Maybe I shouldn't be here to hear it."

"You've earned your place in this conversation," Dumbledore replied. "Your life is linked to Harry's, is only fair for you to hear it too... that way you'll be able to make an informed decision."

"Only if he agrees."

She was used to Harry keeping her at a proper distance from his doings, nevertheless, Harry grabbed her wrist.

"Sit down... please."

Before she could reply a figure rose from the Pensieve, there stood a small version of Sibyll Trelawney with a voice Mel had only imagined thanks to Harry's tales from two years ago:

"THE ONE WITH THE POWER TO VANQUISH THE DARK LORD APPROACHES... BORN TO THOSE WHO HAVE THRICE DEFIED HIM, BORN AS THE SEVENTH MONTH DIES... AND THE DARK LORD WILL MARK HIM AS HIS EQUAL, BUT HE WILL HAVE POWER THE DARK LORD KNOWS NOT... AND EITHER MUST DIE AT THE HAND OF THE OTHER FOR NEITHER CAN LIVE WHILE THE OTHER SURVIVES..."

Professor Trelawney vanished slowly.

"Professor Dumbledore?" Harry said after a moment. "It... did that mean... What did that mean?"

"It meant... that the person who has the only chance of conquering Lord Voldemort for good was born at the end of July, nearly sixteen years ago. This boy would be born to parents who had already defied Voldemort three times."

"It means — me?"

Dumbledore eyed both teenagers carefully before speaking.

"The odd thing is, Harry, that it may not have meant you at all. Sibyll's prophecy could have applied to three babies, one of them being Mel."

"What?"

"I thought it was meant to be Matthew's baby," He sighed, "an Auror and a Dumbledore... but alas, you were born at the start of the month — and you were a girl. There were still two more babies in line. Both born at the end of July that year, both of whom had parents in the Order of the Phoenix, both sets of parents having narrowly escaped Voldemort three times. One, of course, was you. The other was Neville Longbottom."

"But then... but then, why was it my name on the prophecy and not Neville's?"

"The official record was relabeled after Voldemort's attack on you as a child. It seemed plain to the keeper of the Hall of Prophecy that Voldemort could only have tried to kill you because he knew you to be the one to whom Sibyll was referring."

"Then — it might not be me?"

"I am afraid that there is no doubt that it is you."

"But you said — Neville was born at the end of July too — and his mum and dad —"

"You are forgetting the next part of the prophecy, the final identifying feature of the boy who could vanquish Voldemort... Voldemort himself would 'mark him as his equal.' And so he did, Harry. He chose you, not Neville. He gave you the scar that has proved both blessing and curse."

"But he might have chosen wrong! He might have marked the wrong person!"

"He chose the boy he thought most likely to be a danger to him. And notice this, Harry. He chose, not the pureblood (which, according to his creed, is the only kind of wizard worth being or knowing), but the half-blood, like himself. He saw himself in you before he had ever seen you, and in marking you with that scar, he did not kill you, as he intended, but gave you powers, and a future, which have fitted you to escape him not once, but four times so far — something that neither your parents, nor Neville's parents, ever achieved."

In her mind, an alternate life started to take form: Mel as the orphan, Harry's parents alive and well, it was her the one facing death every time...

Then poor scarred Neville, while Mel and Harry lived surrounded by their families, perhaps even together. The fact that the only reason why Harry was the chosen one was a matter of gender and dates...

"Why did he do it, then? Why did he try and kill me as a baby? He should have waited to see whether Neville or I looked more dangerous when we were older and tried to kill whoever it was then — or even Mel... She's a Dumbledore — She's the strongest!"

"That might, indeed, have been the more practical course, except that Voldemort's information about the prophecy was incomplete. The Hog's Head Inn, which Sibyll chose for its cheapness, has long attracted, shall we say, a more interesting clientele than the Three Broomsticks. As you and your friends found out to your cost, and I to mine that night, it is a place where it is never safe to assume you are not being overheard. Of course, I had not dreamed, when I set out to meet Sibyll Trelawney, that I would hear anything worth overhearing. My — our — one stroke of good fortune was that the eavesdropper was detected only a short way into the prophecy and thrown from the building."

"So he only heard..?"

"He heard only the first part, the part foretelling the birth of a boy in July to parents who had thrice defied Voldemort. Consequently, he could not warn his master that to attack you would be to risk transferring power to you — again marking you as his equal. So Voldemort never knew that there might be danger in attacking you, that it might be wise to wait or to learn more. And once Mel was born at the start of July as a girl, and you a boy, this only narrowed it down to his apparent advantage. He did not know that you would have 'power the Dark Lord knows not' —"

"But I don't! I haven't any powers he hasn't got, I couldn't fight the way he did tonight, I can't possess people or — or kill them —"

"There is a room in the Department of Mysteries," Dumbledore replied carefully, "that is kept locked at all times. It contains a force that is at once more wonderful and more terrible than death, than human intelligence, than forces of nature. It is also, perhaps, the most mysterious of the many subjects for study that reside there. It is the power held within that room that you possess in such quantities and which Voldemort has not at all.

That power is what has aided Mel to know if you're in danger and allowed her to help, that power took you to save Sirius tonight. That power also saved you from possession by Voldemort, because he could not bear to reside in a body so full of the force he detests. In the end, it mattered not that you could not close your mind. It was your heart that saved you. So you see, Mel," He added, "caring it's never useless."

"The end of the prophecy... it was something about... 'neither can live...' "

"'... while the other survives,' " Dumbledore concluded.

"So... so does that mean that... that one of us has got to kill the other one... in the end?"

"Yes."

They stayed silent for the longest time, Mel found her voice at the same time as her courage.

"Okay," She spoke. "We just have to make sure you're the one that lives."

Dumbledore's face hinted at a smile, but it did not form fully. Harry stared at her like the thought of surviving was next to impossible.

"I feel I owe you two other explanations," said Dumbledore carefully. "You may, perhaps, have wondered why I never chose you as prefects? I must confess that I rather thought both of you had enough responsibility to be going on with..."

Mel let out a dry chuckle, Harry just sighed.

"The second and final... is about the decision you ought to take."

"What decision?"

"Your lifeline," He started, "I've been reading about it since the third task... It's called Unio Azoth — A universal cure for any kind of injury, you heal with life itself, and it's always effective. However, not many people dare use it because it demands great sacrifice from both sides of the connection. It's created through highly complex magic, or it can happen, as it was your case, after multiple shared near-death experiences," He paused. "It can also be removed."

There was a split second in which the students didn't know how to react.

"You're saying," Mel started. "We've been hurting each other for a whole year — and you hid this from us?"

"You were on bad terms after the tournament, the removal can only happen if both sides consent, and you were holding onto it tightly, Mel."

"Is it dark magic?" Harry asked abruptly. "Our connection?"

Dumbledore took another long look at him.

"I believe that what you're trying to ask is if it's damaging for any of you," He replied. "Which is something that depends on the circumstances. There have been moments your connection has improved your lives, but it's also damaged you physically to a great extent. You're asking a question only you can answer, Harry."

"This could've fixed everything between us," Mel felt her anger increasing. "And you just let us argue instead? Why?"

"It was your impulsive actions that kept me from speaking, I couldn't risk one of you trying to cut it without the other knowing, it would've resulted in tragedy."

"We would've acted differently if only we’d known! The reason why we fought was because of how guilty Harry felt about putting me through extra pain — We could've just cut the damn thing — You thought I would've just decided to abandon him?"

"Isn't that what you were attempting this year?" Dumbledore asked pointedly.

"Harry and I couldn't stop fighting, I was tired — I had to keep my distance," Mel stood up. "He spent a whole year drowning in guilt thinking we couldn't change things —"

"When I found out it could be removed," Dumbledore's voice came out just as firm as hers. "You were already far too traumatized. Losing this would've felt like losing a limb. You weren't ready to make a choice then, but I can't keep you in the dark any longer, you have the whole picture now, so you can make an informed decision, but I must ask you to think —"

"I don't need to think it over," Mel said, but Harry spoke at the same time.

"I want to keep it."

"What?" She looked at him in disbelief.

Harry stared at her.

"It's thanks to this that I knew you were having panic attacks, you've saved my life many times now, I owe you — and it doesn't have to hurt, you can control it, I just need to learn how to do it too!"

"You've been nagging me about how much of a burden this was and suddenly you cling to it as if it were a blessing?" She narrowed her eyes.

"It's just..." His jaw tensed. "It works both ways — if I give it up and Voldemort takes you... I can't leave you to deal with it alone, you'd do the same for me. You've already done it."

Mel shook her head, speechless.

"The decision is yours to make..." Dumbledore concluded. "You have until next term to tell me, and then we'll do whatever you please."

They were walking side by side without speaking. She did not wish to fight, and she felt like it would happen if they were to bring up... well, everything.

"I'm sorry," He muttered.

"I don't want to hear it. I'm to blame as much as you are. I ignored you — Dumbledore's right, knowing would've tricked us into thinking we could deal with it on our own, it would've killed us... I've been selfish enough this year to know I would've felt tempted to try and cut it on my own. I won't admit it in front of him, though..."

"You weren't —"

"I don't want to have this conversation," She stopped walking. "Everyone thinks I'm like my father or my uncle... and I'm not. When I was with you I was just Mel... whoever that's supposed to be. When we fought I got lost — you said awful things to me, but you were the only one who wasn't treating me like some overpowered freak..."

"I can't promise we won't fight in the future, but there are worse things than disagreeing and the thought of dying without telling you that I..." He came to a halt, voice breaking.

They wanted to talk about so many things, and yet Mel felt like they would never get to say anything at all.

"You know," She said softly. "We've gone through so much already... and it's hard, looking at you and having to pretend I can continue like this."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm feeling so alone, Harry," She forced the words out of her. "I miss you."

She'd almost been murdered that night, treated like a ragdoll, and traumatized until there was no safe place in her world. Still, nothing made her feel quite as vulnerable and tiny as Harry's understanding of her, the way he knew every single corner of her mind as if it were his own.

Harry gazed at her with hurt, he clenched his jaw and shook his head lightly. She was ready to watch him leave when suddenly, he hugged her.

Mel was having trouble breathing against his shoulder but her arms kept him close, one hand made its way up to the back of his head while the other went to the middle of his back. He was a few inches taller than her, but she still felt like they were a perfect fit.

"I'm sorry," Harry mumbled against her hair, and Mel knew he wasn't just talking about Sirius.

"Me too," She closed her eyes tightly. "We'll find a way through this... together."

Next Chapter —>

Taglist.

@dee123ksha @vampiregirl1797 @siriuslysirius1107 @stardusthigh @mikariell95 @vernon-dursley @thesuitelifeofafangirl @tomshollandz @kylosleftbuttcheek @reverse-hxlland @bloodorangemoonlight @omiwashere @t-rexs-world @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @21bruhs @i-am-scared-and-useless-bisexual @dielgonacoffee @thelastpyle

#twoidiots writing #hp fanfic #Harry Potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter xoc #WITT fic

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falcon-eye · 4 years

Text

Part 3? of the story for my OCs for @inexplicifics Accidental Warlord AU! I intended to only write like the opening paragraph for this today but now it’s two hours later and the whole thing is typed out. Oops.

At some point this will all be on AO3, I promise! But until then, should I do a tag list? Would people want me to tag them as I write these in the meantime? Please let me know!

(Also points to whoever can guess what Veko’s talking about when it comes to colors and smells and things! I also have it, though not exactly like Veko does)

(Also bonus points to wherever can figure out what real life goat Ren is based on lol)

———————————————

Unfortunately, Veko wasn’t able to return to Eloise for a few more years. Between simply not being in the area, not having time between hunts, his brother Hamra almost being disemboweled one year, and his own injuries, he just hadn’t been able to make his way to her little town in Temeria.

This year, he was determined to go back, though he wasn’t sure why. He chalked it up to being able to stay somewhere comfortable, with actual good food, for free, but even he knew that was a flimsy excuse. Eloise fascinated him, for lack of a better word. She hadn’t been afraid of him—quite the opposite! From the get-go it was like she had tried to intimidate him, and godsdammit it worked. But she was so nice to him, and despite what she said, her food was quite good. Or maybe everything Veko had been eating recently was just that awful.

Veko swung down off of Nine—his new gray mare after Eight became wyvern food (rest in peace you prick)—and hitched her to the fence post outside Eloise’s house. For some reason, he was nervous to see her again. Was it because it had been so long (for a human anyway) since he’d been here? He didn’t want her to think he wanted out of their deal or anything.

Veko brushed as much dirt and grime off of his armor as he could before knocking on the door. A moment later, it swung open and Eloise stared up at him with wide eyes.

Veko scratched his burns. “Uh, hello Elo—“

Eloise threw herself at him, arms around his neck. “Oh my gods!” she cried. “You fucking prick! Where have you been?!” Veko faltered for a moment before tentatively wrapping his arms around Eloise’s, but she immediately pulled back, giving him an icy glare. “Well?!”

“I, uh, I’ve been... busy,” Veko replied, but for some reason, Veko felt awful despite it being the truth.

“Busy!” Eloise exclaimed. Holy shit, she’d really been upset about this.

“I’m sorry,” Veko said, staring down at his boots. “I really am. And—and I really was busy. I don’t want you to think I was trying to get out of the deal or anything, cuz I wasn’t—“

“You think I’m upset because of the fucking deal?!” Eloise shouted. Veko blinked at her and she pinched the bridge of her nose. “For Melitele’s—get in here!”

Eloise pulled Veko into the house and slammed the door. Despite the few years that had gone by, not much inside had changed. There were more paint supplies strewn around the house than last time, but that was about it.

Veko scratched his scars again and Eloise slapped his hand away. “Sorry,” he said automatically.

“I thought you were dead!” Eloise shouted, poking a finger into Veko’s chest. “You’re a bloody Witcher! That’s what happens, isn’t it? You fight monsters, and then you die. Well godsdamn you I thought you died!”

Veko was horrified when the salty smell of tears began tickling his nose; something must have showed on his face, because Eloise rubbed her eyes quickly, not letting any of them fall.

“I’m sorry,” Veko said again.

Eloise glared at him again before suddenly hugging him. “Fucking git,” she hissed. “Send a letter or something, at least! I don’t know how to get ahold of you but I’m always here!”

Veko hesitated again but hugged Eloise back. This time, she didn’t pull away. “Sorry,” he said into her hair. “Just, every time I was in the area, something would come up, or my brother was hurt, or I was too injured to travel—“

“Are you ok now?!”

“Oh yeah, all healed up now.”

“And your brother?”

Veko smiled sadly, remembering the blood on his hands and the horrifying look of resignation on Hamra’s face. “Touch and go for a bit, but yeah, he also made a full recovery. I just couldn’t leave him like that.”

Eloise finally pulled away and crossed her arms. “Well damn,” she grumbled. “How can I be mad at you now?”

Veko chuckled, feeling like a weight had lifted off of his chest.

—————

During lunch, Eloise filled him in on how things had been going since they’d seen each other. Lennart was still a bastard, but after being slapped in front of the gods and everyone by a lady at the tavern, he’d been officially removed from his position. A local woman had taken the title of alderwoman now, and things had been a lot better. A few of Eloise’s goats had had multiple babies, though a wolf problem last year had taken a few of them. She still had one of her original nanny goats, though, and apparently this particular goat was about as stubborn as they come.

“She actually chased one of the wolves off, even!” Eloise explained. “Charged it head on. I’ve never seen a wolf roll like that in my life.”

“Remind me not to piss your goats off, then,” Veko chuckled.

Eloise seemed to pause for a moment. “I actually have to go feed them,” she said. “Plus, your horse has just been... well, outside tied to my fence. Come with me?”

So that was how Veko found himself leading his horse to the tiny barn behind Eloise’s house. He could see a couple goats that were obviously youngsters immediately rush over to the fence, bleating loudly. From within the barn, a huge tan goat trotted out and fucking screamed.

Veko flinched and even Nine pulled back. “Sorry, sorry,” Eloise said. “That’s Georgina. She’s... special.”

“I’ll say,” Veko grumbled. “This our wolf chaser?”

Eloise shook her head and pointed to another goat on the opposite side of the paddock. A little black thing, shorter than the others, with huge, curled horns. Eloise whistled and the goat immediately charged—and slammed horns first—into the fence.

“Ren,” Eloise said, crouching down to scratch the goat between the ears. “She’s harmless. Mostly.”

Veko looked at Nine and seemed to almost share a stare with the horse. A ‘can you believe this shit?’ moment that got Veko chuckling despite himself.

“Whatever you say.”

Eloise led Veko and Nine into the barn and into a small empty stall. “This was my father’s horse’s stall,” she explained as Veko began undoing Nine’s tack.

“Where is your old man, anyway?” he asked as he heaved the saddle down.

Eloise looked away. “He, um,” she cleared her throat. “He passed, um, a few months after you left.”

Veko dropped the saddle. “Fuck,” he said. “I’m—I’m so sorry. Fuck, if I’d known—“

“Veko,” Eloise put a hand on his arm, “my father was sick. Even I didn’t realize how badly until a week before he went. But it was... it was peaceful, at least. I’d made him dinner, he wished me goodnight, and I found him in the morning.”

Veko honestly didn’t know what else to say. Death was a weird subject for Witchers, after all. He continued grooming Nine while searching desperately for something to say that wasn’t ‘sorry’ again.

“Did he have... a funeral?” Veko asked. He could’ve slapped himself. Of course he had a fucking funeral.

Eloise seemed to sense Veko’s fumbling, because she smiled gently and nodded. “A very nice one, too,” she said. “I’ll go get some water for your horse.”

As Eloise walked away, Nine looked at Veko again. What was it with this horse? Veko pointed a warning finger in his face; Nine simply huffed and turned away. Somewhere, Hamra was laughing, Veko was sure of it. His brother had always had a good relationship with his horses.

Eloise returned a moment later with a bucket of water. Veko immediately took it from her and poured it into the empty trough.

“What’s her name?” Eloise asked. If he could blush, Veko would’ve been scarlet.

“Nine,” he said.

“‘Nine’?” Eloise repeated. “Does that mean something in another language or like, the number?”

“The, uh, the number.”

Eloise slapped Veko’s hand as it reached for his scars. “Why?”

“She’s my... ninth horse.”

There was beat before Eloise burst out laughing. “You’re something else, you know that?”

Veko smirked to cover his embarrassment. “So I’ve been told.”

Eloise rolled her eyes and headed over to the opposite end of the barn. The far wall was lined with bales of hay. Before she could even reach for one, Veko rushed over and hoisted one over his shoulder. Eloise put her hands on her hips.

“You know I’ve been doing this for years even before you showed up, right?” And she had a point; what was wrong with him?

“I, uh,” he looked anywhere but at Eloise, trying to find an excuse. “I figured it’s... been a while since I’ve been here so I, uh, owe you. I guess.”

“Are you telling me or asking me?”

“Yes.”

Eloise laughed. “Ok then,” she said, heading back out of the barn. “I’ll get the gate at least.”

Veko followed Eloise to the paddock and held Ren by a leather strap around her neck while he made his way through the gate. The other goats immediately began following him. As soon as the hay hit the ground, the goats descended. Eloise let Ren go and the other goats parted to let her through.

“I never realized how scary goats were,” Veko said as Eloise latched the gate closed.

“To be fair, I have quite the herd of characters,” she replied. “Most people have a rooster to wake them at sunrise; I have Georgina and her screaming. Ren is like my own personal guard hound. Sometimes she gets out and chases off anyone who gets near the house. The others are still young, yet, but they’re slowly starting to show their personalities.”

“I’ll stick with horses, I think,” Veko said. “They’re enough trouble as it is.”

“Apparently!” Eloise laughed as she and Veko made their way back to the house. “Seeing as you’ve had nine of them!”

“This is a dangerous job!” Veko defended, but the tone was joking. “Plus in the grand scheme of things, nine horses hasn’t been a lot for how long I’ve been on the Path.”

Eloise’s brow furrowed. “How old are you?”

“Old.”

Eloise scoffed and started gathering some of her paints. Veko followed her into her art room, not sure what else to do at this point, and found the walls covered in different paintings than the last time he’d been here. One in an ornate frame was her father, exactly as real as if he was standing before them.

Eloise picked up a few leather straps from one of the tables. “Help me with something,” she said. “I’m going to repaint the goats’ collars and I don’t know what color to give who. I want you to help me decide.”

“Ok?” Veko said, taking a seat. “Why?”

“Something you said to my father, when you saved him,” Eloise replied. “It always confused him. He told you he lived in the house with the blue roof and you said it suited him. Why?”

Veko went to scratch his scars, but instead balled his hand into the fabric of his pants. “Well, it’s, uh,” he hesitated. Of all things for that old man to focus on!

“My father was always fascinated with color,” Eloise said, as if sensing Veko needed a minute. “That’s how I got into painting. He was never content with something being the original color it was. Hence, the blue roof. He said that you saying the blue suited him kind of, I don’t know, validated him.”

Veko’s chest felt tight. Now he felt fucking terrible for not being here before. Maybe Eloise’s father would’ve understood, or at least found it interesting that—

Veko cleared his throat. “So, sometimes,” he began, staring down at his hands. “When I think of things, or names, or... well anything, really. I get these senses.” When he looked up, Eloise was enraptured. “Like, your father, just looking at him, the color blue came to mind. I don’t know why.”

“Just colors?”

Veko shook his head. “Smells, sometimes. Like when I think of you... I, uh, I think of the smell of your paints.”

“That’s... that’s fascinating, Veko,” Eloise said. “Tell me more?”

Veko gestured to the collars. “Well, you’re trying to figure out what color for what goat. As soon as you said Georgina, green came to mind. I don’t know why. And Ren is red, but not because the name and word are close. Uh, sometimes when I picture my supplies in my pack, I see them like they’re all laid out on the table, lined up side-by-side, despite the fact that I know damn well they’re a jumbled mess in my bag. And in my head, the order is always the same. I kinda do the same thing with months. I see them lined up like squares on a wall.” Veko grimaced. Fuck. “No, ‘see’ is the wrong word, cuz I don’t—I’m not hallucinating or anything!”

“I believe you,” Eloise said softly, taking one of Veko’s hands in hers. And she was telling the truth. Veko felt the tension in his body release.

“It’s weird, I know,” he said. “So I don’t normally say anything. When I was younger the trainers thought my head got fucked up by the mutagens but it’s just the way I’ve always been.”

“Does your brother have this too?”

“No,” Veko chuckled. “But he’s been the most receptive to it, even if he doesn’t understand it. Like, his favorite color is green, but when I think of him I think of like an indigo color. And I’m red, but I don’t know why.”

“What about me?” Veko met Eloise’s gaze and held it. The look on her face was one of honest curiosity and interest. She smiled at him and squeezed his fingers. “What do you see when you think of me?”

Veko swallowed. “I see turquoise, like the color your dress was the first time we met. I don’t know if it’s because that’s what you were wearing or what, but when I think ‘Eloise’ I think of that faint turquoise color.”

“Does it work for family names?”

“Sometimes. What is your full name, anyway?”

“Eloise Calold.”

Veko cocked his head to the side. “Yellow,” he said. “Calold is yellow.”

“But not because of anything I’m wearing,” Eloise said, gesturing to the paint-stained brown smock she was currently wearing.

“Guess not.”

“Veko,” Eloise breathed. “That is the most fascinating thing I’ve ever heard of. So you see colors? Or, think in colors? I wish I had that. I wonder how it would affect my art. I wonder how it would affect your art.”

Veko pulled away and put his hands up. “Hey, whoa, who said anything about me being an artist?” he said.

Eloise laughed. “I bet you’re better than you think,” she said.

“I bet not.”

Eloise smirked. “Tell you what,” she said. “I’ll drop the subject if you do something for me.”

“Name it?”

“Let me paint you.”

Veko again was struck silent. She wanted to paint him? Apparently his mouth was hanging open, because Eloise tapped his chin to close it. “Why?” he managed.

“Because,” she replied. “We’re... friends. Or I like to think we are. And in case... in case something happens to you...” she gazed at the painting of her father, smiling down warmly at them, “I want you to be immortalized with him.”

What the fuck could Veko say to that? “Oh. Ok,” he said dumbly. “Uh. How do you want me?”

Eloise jumped up and ran for a blank canvas. “Whatever’s comfortable!” she called. “It takes a while.”

Veko just... sat there as Eloise began setting up. He turned this way and that, never quite settling, before Eloise huffed and dragged an armchair over. Veko abandoned the stool he’d been on and sat back into the warn leather.

“Better,” he said. He turned, scar facing away, and immediately Eloise’s hand reached out to turn him back. Her fingers grazed the puckered mess that was his cheek and he flinched.

“I’m sorry,” Eloise said gently. “I just—I want to see it.”

“Why?” Veko whispered.

“Because it’s a part of you,” Eloise replied. “And gods know I’ve kept you from scratching it enough.”

There was a moment where neither of them said a word. Veko’s heart sped in his chest like it hadn’t in many years. Eloise gazed over his burn scars and gently brushed her fingers over them again. Veko didn’t flinch this time, but just barely. Her fingers were cool against the phantom heat of his burns, and as she traced the expanse of them along his jaw, he couldn’t hold back the full-body shiver the touch elicited.

Eloise pulled back and Veko scrambled to find something to say before she said anything else about them. “So—so how does this work?” he asked. “I, uh, I just sit here?”

Eloise nodded and finally pulled back. “Yes,” she said, not meeting his gaze. Now that he was out of his own head, Veko could hear her heart hammering in her chest. “Just, um, get comfortable, relax, and um, don’t... don’t move, if you can help it.”

Veko grinned. “Ok.” Eloise nodded and began mixing a few paints.

Veko just... watched her. As brush met paint and paint met canvas, he could almost see the cogs turning in her head. Instead of sticking her tongue out, like he’d heard some artists do, she made faces. A stroke here and her mouth pinched to the side; stroke there and her mouth opened in a little ‘o’.

Veko wanted to slip into meditation, as that would be the best way to sit still for her, but he found he just couldn’t. As much as Eloise was watching him for her painting, he wanted to watch her. He couldn’t help but think of the last time they’d seen each other, and what he thought of her then. She wasn’t all that attractive, merely plain by any standards. Her laugh was unladylike and jarring. She intimidated him. She swore. She—

She made him dinner. She let him sleep in her home. She told him stories and listened to his in turn. She wanted his opinions. She found his mental crap fascinating. She worried for him. She cried for him!

She called them friends.

As Veko sat, watching Eloise paint his portrait, a warm weight settled in his gut. He didn’t want to leave in the morning. Hells, he didn’t want her to ever finish this bloody painting. And although emotions aren’t exactly a Witcher’s strong point, he had a sinking suspicion that what he was feeling...

Fuck.

#falcon writes #inexplicifics #accidental warlord au #the witcher #witcher oc

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phantomqueen · 3 years

Text

Meme time: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening line, then tag 10 writers! uhhh i tag.....all of you

tagged by @ufohnoparty thanks!!

most of these are from oc fics (ok a LOT of it is just random stuff for my star wars dnd oc) or purely original stuff. none of them are finished or posted anywhere lmao. under the cut to keep it short

1. It should really say something about my job commitment that I still showed up for my shift after being attacked by the local cemetery. [retail vampire novella lmfao 😖]

2. Officially, they didn’t exist. [sw au for my ocs ana lucia, paige & nix]

3. Vesik has never been to Naboo, but using what he knows of it, he imagines a little house by the shore of some body of water. [um some introspective vesik thing that i forgot where i was going with]

4. Here is a brief list of things in the galaxy that remain constant: [ANOTHER introspective vesik thing i forgot where i was going with]

5. “Nothing personal,” Preskai says in her pre-recorded hologram. [au where vesik did not join the rebellion, also about my other sw oc antith]

6. I was the last one to arrive, still wiping blood from my mouth as I descended into the ritual chamber. [nano project from last year; vampire apocalypse club]

7. I only ever went to parties for free booze and that night was no different. [gay college vampire romcom that got me back into writing last year LMFAO]

8. Micah’s dragon was still a baby, about the same size and temperament as a dog—if the dog had wings, horns, and shimmering blue scales. [genuinely forgot what this was]

9. The last time Vesik sees his home, it’s burning to the ground. [say it with me...introspective vesik thing that i forgot blah blah blah]

10. Dear X, I’ve taken the liberty of hiding your name in case someone finds this. [ok THIS ONE i finished & adapted into a zine available here! letters b/w a fairy & her gf]

11. They make short work of moving in. [vesik’s thots on moving in w his bf]

12. “Okay,” Kaamna calls, “hold on—” [vesik backstory stuff]

13. Distantly, the school bell rang, and students flooded out the front door. [high school au thing]

14. Vesik kisses a boy for the first time when he’s eighteen. [vesik + boyfriends]

15. Vesik wakes badly, his hearts racing and his body ready to find the nearest exit. [vesik + post-death star mission]

16. These beds in Rebel Base weren’t made for two people, but they make it work. [vesik + his current bf. theres so many of these dont @ me]

17. The memorial is as bright and imposing as Khessa was, a monolith towering over the palace courtyard. [oh my god in late 2019 i tried writing a dragon prince janaya fic lmfaooo]

18. We lost our cities, but sometimes you’ll pass by their bones. [i tried & then abandoned writing a post-apocalyptic type thing. there’s some good parts in this but i didn’t really know where i was going with it]

19. The girl finds the god’s head drifting down the river. [sw au for my oc the witch]

20. LUX: Oh, is this thing on? How do I — [okay i also had a tma oc for like 5 minutes and tried writing a statement for them]

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alyssawritesssfics · 4 years

Text

Hounded [8] 8. Day Trip

Pairings: Bellamy x OC // Kane x daughter!OC

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings: violence, mentions of blood, character death (canon), series spoilers

Summary: Athena, in an attempt to avoid her father, searches for a lost bunker with Bellamy. In a search for supplies, they end up finding a newfound appreciation for each other.

Author’s Note: Hii, here is chapter/episode eight! I had SO much fun writing this one. It’s a big one, most of it Athena & Bellamy. I planned to have Athena talk with Kane, but it just didn’t fit into this chapter. I hope you enjoy it! Please remember to note and reblog! It really helps me see interest and therefore update the story more often. Thank you!

Tag List: @topazy @no-damsel (DM or send an ask to be added)

previous chapter // series masterlist

The rest of the day was spent recovering from the storm. Finn was healing slowly but surely, and the Grounder was still tied up on the top level of the dropship. I'd hardly seen Octavia, and I didn't blame her for avoiding me; part of me wished I could avoid me too.

I sat in my tent the following day, waiting for Clarke's meeting with the council to finish. We would soon know how long until the Ark would reach the ground, more importantly, how long we had left before we had proper defences against the Grounders. Until we had guns, the Grounders would always have the upper hand.

"Athena, are you in there?"

I stood from my cot, pulling open the flap of the tent. "How did the meeting go?"

Clarke shrugged. "There's an emergency depot not too far from here. Your father mentioned it would have supplies and could provide shelter for us while we wait on them to get down here."

I could feel my body tense up at the mention of my father. "That'll be good. I have a feeling we'll need to move there sooner rather than later." Stepping out of the tent, I allowed Clarke to lead me towards the dropship.

"The council set up meeting times for the rest of the day," Clarke started. "For us all to talk to our families."

I took a deep breath. "That'll be good."

Clarke stepped in front of me. "Are you okay?"

"Sorry," I spoke, rubbing my eyes. "I've just gotten so used to life down here, you know? Without the Ark. Not having to worry about my father."

Clarke nodded. "I know what you mean."

"Right," I couldn't help but frown. "Did you talk to your mom at all last night?"

"You mean, about her turning my father in?" Clarke asked, each word laced with venom. Then, she let out a small sigh. "Yeah, I told her I knew."

"What did she have to say for herself?"

Clarke shook her head. "I didn't really give her a chance to explain. I mean, what is there to explain? Nothing she could possibly say would make any of this better. She's the reason my father is dead. I don't think I can forgive her for that. Does that make me a terrible person?"

I shook my head. "It makes you human."

"Being human sucks."

I looked up at the sky, taking a deep breath. "Forgiveness has never really been my strong suit, so I'm probably the worst person to give you advice anyway."

Clarke frowned. "Well, I can help you avoid having to talk to your parents."

My eyes met Clarke's, a small smile forming across my face. "What do you have in mind?"

Clarke turned around, continuing towards the dropship. "The depot. I figure you can lead the search for it. Scope it out, see if there's anything of use there. See if it can actually be used as shelter."

"I can do that," I responded. "When do we leave?"

We entered the dropship, spotting Bellamy and Octavia standing next to the ladder.

"Whatever twisted connection you think you have with that animal, forget it. You don't get to see him. End of discussion." Bellamy turned to leave.

"Why do you even care?" Octavia pressed. "If I ruined your life, you should want me to go up there. Maybe you'll get lucky and he'll kill me. Problem solved."

Bellamy looked back at her. "You know I didn't mean that."

"Bellamy," Clarke spoke up.

"The answer is still no, Clarke." He responded, now facing us. "I'm not talking to Jaha."

Clarke shook her head. "That's not why I'm here."

"What, then?"

"The Ark found some records that show an old supply depot not too far from here."

My eyes darted to Clarke. "Clarke, what are you-"

"What kind of supplies?" Bellamy asked.

"The kind that might give us a chance to live through the winter." Clarke responded. "I have to stay behind to organize visits, but I'm sending Athena and she could use some back up."

I folded my arms across my chest. "You're kidding, right?"

"Why are you asking me?"

Clarke smirked. "You want to avoid Jaha right?"

Bellamy scoffed. "Alright, I'll go."

"I thought so." Clarke said, handing me a map. "I've marked the coordinates on this map. Be careful out there, alright?"

Before I could object, Clarke had left the dropship. I turned back to Bellamy, my arms still placed tightly across my chest. "Meet me at the gate in ten minutes, or I will leave without you."

Bellamy smirked. "Someone is bossy today."

"I mean it, Bellamy," I spoke, turning to leave.

I stopped at my tent to grab my pack before heading to the gate. By the time I made it there, Bellamy was stuffing packages upon packages of nuts into his pack.

"That's a lot of rations," I mumbled. "You do realize this is a day trip, right?"

"A lot can happen in a day."

I rolled my eyes, signalling for Jasper to open the gate.

...

We had been walking for over an hour, only ever discussing the directions Clarke had given us. While the silence had left little room for a Grounder to sneak up on us, I was growing tired and needed a distraction.

"You know, the first dropship will be down soon," I spoke, earning a side-glance. "Pretty sure you can't avoid Jaha forever."

Bellamy scoffed. "I can try."

"Maybe he'll be lenient?" I suggested, eating some nuts from my packet. "You know, he's forgiving the rest of our crimes. Why not yours too?"

"I shot the man, Athena. He's not just going to forgive and forget."

"At least you didn't kill him."

"Has terrible aim ever in the history of law been a good defence?" He sighed. "Your honour, I concede that I shot the man, but he didn't die! No harm, no foul?"

I rolled my eyes. "I'm not saying you'll get off with no punishment. I'm just saying, maybe he'll opt for some time in lock-up? We don't really have to worry about wasting oxygen anymore."

Bellamy stopped, staring at the ground. "What if they find out about the radio? I mean, someone is bound to tell them. I shot the Chancellor, and then I destroyed the radio, causing three hundred innocent people to die up there."

"So it does bother you?"

He turned around, looking me dead in the eye. "Of course it bothers me, Athena." Bellamy turned back around, continuing through the forest.

"Why do you always act like you don't give a shit, then?" I asked. "I mean, why do you keep pretending like nothing matters to you?"

"I don't pretend like nothing else matters."

"You're right," I responded. "You couldn't pretend that Octavia doesn't matter to you no matter how hard you try."

Bellamy shook his head. "You have no idea."

"Octavia used to talk about you all the time," I started, smiling to myself. "Her big brother. Her greatest protector. You gave up everything to protect her."

"What's your point?"

"I'm just trying to understand how the person I heard about for eight months is the same guy I'm talking to right now." I shrugged.

Bellamy scoffed. "No matter what Octavia has told you, you'll never understand what we went through up there. What I went through. Your father would take over if anything happened to Jaha, right? That would make you Wells 2.0."

"Bellamy-"

"You will never understand, Athena. You will never know what I had to go through to keep her safe. What I had to see my mother go through." He paused, steadying his breathing. "Octavia spent sixteen years under the floor. Sixteen years confined to our tiny dorm. She was a prisoner from the day she was born and all I wanted was to protect her, or at the very least, be with her one last time before radiation killed her." He stopped, looking around. "But, it didn't."

"So you destroyed the radio because you were afraid she'd be alone? After they came down here and executed you."

"That was part of it." Bellamy nodded. "Is it so wrong just to not want to die?"

I shook my head, feeling a pang in my heart. "I don't think so."

"If I had known what would happen," Bellamy closed his eyes. "I wouldn't have destroyed the radio. I swear."

I stared at Bellamy for a moment, taking in a side of him I hadn't seen since the night in the cave. He was vulnerable. Maybe I was an idiot, but I couldn't help but believe him. Feel sorry for him even.

Clearing my throat, I pushed past him, looking down the hill we'd now approached. "The depot is supposed to be around here somewhere. There's got to be a door underneath all of this brush."

"Let's just split up, cover more ground." He sighed, beginning down the hill. "Stay within shouting distance, alright?"

I nodded, slowly making my way down the hill behind him. Broken branches from the trees surrounding us were scattered along the grass messily, having been tossed around by the storm most likely.

It didn't take long for me to find a metal door hidden under a large branch. "Bellamy, I think I found it!"

Bellamy rushed over, helping me move the branch. He tugged on the handle, to no avail. "It's rusted shut. Here, watch your foot."

I stepped back as Bellamy pulled out his hatched, bashing it against the edges of the door a few times. Putting the hatchet back on his belt, he signalled for my help. After a few tugs, the door swung open.

"Woah," I gasped, peering down the stairs. "Here, take this," I said, handing him one of two flashlights before descending into the bunker.

Bellamy followed behind. "Do you really think this place hasn't been touched since before the war?"

"A girl can dream."

We continued through the bunker, coming across another set of stairs. My light shone over a skeleton, leaning up against the bannister.

"A hell of a place to die," Bellamy commented.

"So much for living down here. This place is disgusting." I said, looking around the spider-web infested room. "Damn it."

Bellamy sighed. "Anything left down here is ruined."

I soon noticed a shelf, shining my light against it. "Hey, I found some blankets!"

"Excited about a couple of blankets?" Bellamy grumbled.

"It's something, at least," I responded, rolling my eyes. "We might not be able to live down here, but at least these will help us stay warm. Even if it is just a little bit."

"How about a canteen? Or a medkit? Or a decent freaking tent?" Bellamy snapped, kicking a barrel in front of him.

I spun around, noticing the contents of the barrel spilling out onto the floor. "Holy shit," I mumbled, rushing over.

Bellamy smiled, kneeling down next to it. "I'll be damned."

Two guns laid on the floor, surrounded by grease.

"Do you think they'll still work?" I asked, picking one up.

"I guess we'll find out," Bellamy responded, looking around. "Help me with the rest of the barrels. Maybe there's more guns, some ammo."

We headed around the room, kicking over every barrel insight. In total, we came up with fifty guns, but only enough ammo to fill half of them twice.

"This changes everything. No more running from spears." Bellamy spoke, a glimmer in his eyes. "Ready to be a badass, Athena?"

I bit my lip. "I know we need these, but I don't know how I feel about bringing them back to camp. We do have murderers among us."

"Who could've killed us by now with anything else lying around camp." Bellamy pointed out. "I know what you mean, but trust me, those killers are focused on the Grounders. Not any of us."

"You're right," I confessed.

"We're lucky these guns were packed in grease. The fact that they survived means we're not sitting ducks anymore." Bellamy grabbed a sheet from the shelf, drawing a target on it with some dust. "You need to learn how to do this."

I nodded, lifting the gun and pointing it at the sheet. "So I just hold it on my shoulder?"

"Just a little higher," He spoke, standing behind me. He placed one hand on the gun and another on my upper arm. I could feel his warm breath on my ear, jagged with each inhale and exhale. "Uh, yeah, that's good." He spoke, moving away. "Here, watch and learn."

I stepped back, watching him pick up another gun. He aimed it at the target, pulling the trigger. The gun clicked, nothing coming out. "Still watching," I spoke, smirking.

He shook his head, turning to me with a smile. "My bullets are duds. Try yours."

I stepped back into place, aiming the gun and pulling the trigger. A bullet flew out of the gun, shooting through the sheet. "That was amazing!" I spoke, smiling ear to ear. I turned to look at Bellamy, my face now pale. "Am I horrible for feeling that?"

He shook his head again, still smiling. "Try again."

"We shouldn't waste the ammunition."

"You need to practice."

"We need to talk about how we're going to keep these guns around camp," I started. "Where we're going to keep them, who has access to them." Bellamy rolled his eyes, opening a pack of nuts and eating a small handful. "You left Miller in charge of the Grounder," I continued. "You must trust him."

Bellamy nodded. "You should keep him close. The others listen to him."

I raised an eyebrow. "Bellamy, what's going on? You've been acting weird all day and you took a shit-ton of rations-" I stopped, my eyes widening. "You're planning on running. That's why you agreed to come today. You were gonna load up on supplies and just take off?"

"I don't have a choice, Athena." Bellamy sighed. "The Ark will be down here soon. You said maybe they'd just lock me up, but there's no way I'm giving Jaha the satisfaction."

"What about Octavia?" I asked. "You can't just leave her."

"Octavia hates me. She'll be fine."

"Octavia is upset, but she'll get over it. She loves you." I spoke, stepping closer. "Please, Bellamy. Don't do this."

Bellamy stared at me for a moment, his eyes softening. "Come with me."

I stared back, my heart stopping for a moment. "What?"

"Screw everyone else," Bellamy responded. "Let's just go."

"Bellamy-"

"Clarke knows where the depot is." Bellamy started. "We can take a gun, some ammo, and go somewhere else."

"We can't just abandon our people. Your people, as you've said over and over again since we got down here." I spoke, stepping back.

Bellamy rolled his eyes. "Keep practicing. I need some air."

"Bellamy, wait!"

"Don't worry, Athena." He spoke, walking away. "I won't leave just yet."

As his silhouette disappeared, I felt my heart sink into my stomach. Come with me. He asked me to come with him, and for just a moment, I thought about it. Could we find a place where the Grounders would never find us? Would the others manage on their own until the Ark came down? Leaving them to fight without my help just didn't sit right with me.

I placed my gun on the shelf, grabbing a few more nuts. Then suddenly, I heard a familiar voice.

"You've always been just like your father, you know?"

I turned around, the room having morphed into my bedroom on the Ark. Standing in front of me was my mother, as clear as ever.

"Mom?" I gasped, rushing over and throwing my arms around her.

"My sweet baby," She spoke, giving me one of her tightest hugs. "I've missed you so much."

I opened my mouth to respond, reality slowly sinking in. Looking up at my mother, I frowned. "You're not really here, are you?"

"I'm afraid not," She confessed.

"How is this possible?" I asked, stepping away.

My mother turned away, looking around the room before sitting down on my bed. "I'm thinking 'why' is more important."

I frowned. "Because I need you."

"What for, Sweetheart?" She asked, patting the bed next to her.

I sat down next to her, feeling her arm wrap around my back. "I don't know what to do. I'm so scared, Mom. All of the time. I don't know what I'm doing. I don't know how to keep us all safe. I don't think I can."

"Are you trying your best?" I nodded. "That's all you can do." She said, pausing for a moment. "But, you can't run away, baby. You're better than that."

I pulled myself away, standing in front of her. "You don't understand what it's like down here."

"Of course I do," She said, smiling. "I'm you, remember?"

"Right," I frowned. "So I guess you're my conscience?"

"I'm whatever you need me to be."

I let out a huff, shaking my head. "That's not really helpful, you know?"

"Would you prefer to speak with your father instead?" She asked, letting out a small chuckle.

"That's not funny," I hissed. "And for the record, I'm nothing like him."

"Are you sure about that?" I raised my eyebrow at her. "Here you are, worrying about the safety of your people. Having to make the hard decisions to keep them alive, a burden he's carried since before you were born."

"Dad has never had trouble making the hard decisions."

"Athena-"

"If you're going to try and defend him, just save it. He let them lock me up." I spoke, tears forming in my eyes. "Aside from our family, Jaha and Jesse's family, nobody else knew what I did. He's the second in command! He could've talked to Jaha, asked him to let it go, but he didn't. He's never stood up for me, not once in my entire life. He knew they were sending us down here, and he did nothing to stop it. He sent me, his own daughter, down here to die."

My mother frowned, her eyes shifting to the floor. "You know none of that was within his power. He loves you, more than anything."

"Now I know for sure you're not real," I scoffed. "You'd never lie to me."

"Too bad I couldn't say the same for you."

Her words hit me like a punch to the gut. "I never told you I was sorry. For what I did. Stealing your keycard. I know you could've lost everything."

"But you did it anyway, all to save someone you loved. Look where that got you; locked up and sent down here to die."

"You're saying Dad did the right thing?" I rolled my eyes.

"Not everything is black and white, Athena." She started. "Sometimes you have no other choice. Being a leader is doing what's right for your people, not what's right for you or one other person. Your father knows that, and so do you."

I shook my head, a tear falling down my cheek. "I'm not ready to forgive him."

"Whatever," My mother spoke, her voice suddenly changing. "Crazy bitch."

"Mom?" I asked, feeling a hard smack against the back of my head.

Then, everything went black.

...

I woke up on the cold ground of the bunker, my head throbbing. Sitting up, I looked around the room, noticing Bellamy's pack still sat on the ground where he left it. Whoever knocked me out, it definitely hadn't been him.

"What am I supposed to do?" It was Bellamy's voice.

I pulled myself off the ground, grabbing my gun and running out of the bunker.

"Do you think you deserve to be free of your pain? Do you deserve that gift?" I recognized the voice as Dax, one of the murderers of our camp. "Because you're going to get it."

I hid behind a tree, poking my head out, struggling to see in the darkness. Dax stood over Bellamy, holding one of the guns we'd found. Bellamy lifted his hand, his eyebrows furrowing.

"Nothing personal," Dax said. Then, he pulled the trigger, nothing coming out.

"Put the gun down, Dax," I spoke, stepping out from behind the tree with my gun aimed at him.

Dax spun around, shaking his head. "You should've stayed in the bunker, Athena. I tried not to kill you, but here you are, and Shumway said no witnesses."

"What is he talking about?" I asked, my eyes shifting to Bellamy for a moment.

"Shumway set it up. He gave me the gun to shoot the Chancellor."

I froze for a moment, Dax taking the chance to move closer. "Walk away now, and I won't kill you. This is your last chance."

"I can't do that, Dax."

He nodded. "Your choice."

I pulled the trigger before he could, this time my gun being the one to jam. He was quick to pull the trigger next, and I dove behind the tree just in time.

"No!" Bellamy yelled, tackling Dax.

I could hear them struggling behind me as I remained behind the tree, reloading my gun. Stepping out, I fired again and again and again, nothing coming out. I watched Dax climb on top of Bellamy once more, pushing the gun hard against Bellamy's throat. Giving up, I ran towards.

"Get the hell off of him!" I yelled, swinging the gun at him.

Dax dodged me, hitting me in the stomach with his gun, causing me to fall to the floor. I clutched my stomach, gasping for air, Dax's eyes still on me. With no time to waste, Bellamy grabbed a discarded bullet, stabbing Dax in the neck with it.

Blood spilled from Dax's mouth as he fell backwards, slowly bleeding out. Finally, he stopped moving.

I crawled over to the tree, leaning myself up against it as Bellamy rushed over, still struggling to catch his breath. He placed his hand on my knee, leaning himself against the tree as well.

"It's okay," I spoke, slowly catching my breath. "You're okay."

"No, I'm not." He choked out, tears forming in his eyes. "My mother... If she knew what I've done, who I am. She raised me to be better. To be good. And all I do is hurt people."

"Bellamy-"

"I'm a monster."

"Hey, you saved my life today. You've saved my life twice now." I spoke, grabbing his hand. "You may be a total ass half the time but... I need you. We all need you. None of us would've survived this place if it wasn't for you."

He shook his head. "They have you. And Clarke."

"We couldn't have kept everyone alive without you by our sides," I confessed. "You want forgiveness, fine, I'll give that to you. You're forgiven, okay? But you can't run, Bellamy. You have to face it."

"Like you faced your father?" He asked, catching me off guard. "Come on, Athena. I know you only came here today to avoid talking to him."

I sighed. "You're right. I don't want to face my father. I don't want to face any of it. I would love to run away and start a life far away from everyone else, far away from all the death and destruction, but we don't have a choice."

"Jaha will kill me when he comes down."

"I won't let that happen," I spoke. "We'll figure something out."

Bellamy nodded. "Can we figure it out later?"

I nodded, leaning my head back against the tree and letting go of his hand. "Whenever you're ready."

...

We returned to camp later that night, pushing our way through a crowd surrounding the dropship. Miller had just informed the camp that the Grounder had gotten free, nowhere to be found.

"What if he brings other grounders back?" Jasper asked.

"He'll kill us all!" Another delinquent spoke.

"Or worse."

"Let the grounders come," Bellamy spoke, us both reaching the front of the crowd. "We've been afraid of them for far too long, and why? Because of their knives and spears. I don't know about you, but I'm tired of being afraid."

Bellamy and I both dropped the sacks we'd made of sheets, them falling open to reveal guns. Clarke eyed them in amazement as everyone cheered around us.

"What about the bunker?" She asked.

I shook my head. "We can't live down there, but we did find blankets."

Clarke nodded, raising her voice. "These are weapons, not toys, alright? We have to be prepared to give them up to the guard when they get down here."

"But for now, they'll keep us safe," I added, earning a small smile.

"There are plenty more back at the depot that we couldn't carry," Bellamy spoke. "Tomorrow we start training, and if the grounders come, we're going to be ready to fight."

Everyone dispersed, Monty and Jasper carrying the guns to the dropship for storage overnight. Clarke placed her hand on my arm, grabbing my attention.

"I got you a meeting with Jaha," Clarke said. "He's waiting."

I smiled. "Thank you."

"What do you need to talk to him about anyway?"

"It's not for me," I responded, my eyes landing on Bellamy. "He was going to leave, you know?"

Clarke's eyes widened, her face turning red. "Are you kidding me?"

I shook my head. "I convinced him to talk to Jaha. Promised I'd do it with him. He's just scared, Clarke."

Her face softened and she nodded. "I get it."

I watched as Bellamy marched over, his eyes shifting nervously around camp. "Are we doing this?"

"Jaha is waiting. Are you ready?"

Bellamy huffed. "No, but let's get this over with."

The two of us headed to the tent, Bellamy gesturing for me to enter first. I pushed the flap aside, quickly spotting Jaha's face on the monitor in front of us. Bellamy took a deep breath, sitting down first and putting on his headset. I did the same.

"Mr. Blake," Jaha spoke. "I've been wanting to talk to you for some time now."

"Before you do, there's something I'd like to say." I started, glancing at Bellamy before looking back at Jaha. "When you sent us down here, you sent us to die, but miraculously, most of us are still alive. In large part, that is because of him, because of Bellamy. He's one of us, and he deserves to be pardoned of his crimes just like the rest of us."

Jaha scoffed. "Athena, I appreciate your point of view, but it's not that simple."

"It is if you want to know who on the Ark wants you dead."

I watched as Jaha contemplated Bellamy's offer. Finally, he responded. "Bellamy Blake, you are pardoned for your crimes."

Bellamy let out a sigh of relief, and I couldn't help but do the same. I placed my hand on his, squeezing it slightly and earning a small smile from him.

"Thank you," Bellamy spoke.

Jaha nodded. "Now, tell me who gave you the gun."

next chapter

#the 100 #the 100 fanfiction #bellamy blake #bellamy blake fanfiction #bellamy blake x oc

16 notes · View notes

capricornus-rex · 4 years

Text

A Shadow of What You Used to Be (11)

Chapter 11: Set in Motion | Cal Kestis x Irele Skywalker

Requested by Anon

Summary: There is another! Years after young Anakin Skywalker departed Tatooine, his mother Shmi delivers a second child—this time, a daughter. Whilst the circumstance of the girl’s birth remains unexplained, Irele Skywalker has yet to choose the true path between those laid out for her.

Tags: Fem! OC, Irele Skywalker, Force-sensitive! OC, Anakin’s Younger Sister, Skywalker! OC, Darth Vader’s Secret Apprentice, Long-lost Sibling

A/N: Hi guys, I’m slowly getting back on my feet mentally. I hope I didn’t disinterest you guys with how long I’ve taken to write stories. If you still stayed to tune in to the story despite the dramatic change in my posting schedule, A BIG THANK YOU TO YOU GUYS!! I’ll keep writing to make this story interesting.

Requesting to be tagged: @heavenly1927

Also in AO3

Chapters: Prelude – 1 – 2 – 3 – 4 – 5 – 6 – 7 – 8 – 9 | Previous: Part 10 | Next: Part 12 | Masterlist

12 of ?

17 BBY

A day after her full medical examination, the Anathema charted a course to the western arm of the Mustafar system.

For the first time in a near-month, Irele officially can wander around the ship. The first thing she did with the privilege was to find her way to the bridge, with HY-L33 by her side. Despite her plain-looking clothes, she stuck out like a sore thumb.

She approaches the viewing pane of the bridge, a spot that most officers were accustomed to seeing Vader instead, and watches the bluish-gray moon come into size as they pass through the Imperial blockade. She didn’t listen to the standard exchange between officers from each end, her gaze remained on the moon. She allowed herself to close her eyes to get a feel of the planet—she felt it cold and brooding, and yet it was brimming with life. She started to guess what kind of terrain it had too, probably volcanic rock, she thought; but the closer the ship got, she realizes that it was mostly water.

Unaware that she’s connecting with the planet’s essence through the Force, to her, it felt like frolicking around someplace new and unexplored; for this particular moon, she could feel the cold water seawater freeze the nerves under her skin, she could the faint light of the bioluminescent creatures thriving in the depth as if like starlight, and the strong current that nearly swept her off of her feet. Her eyelids shot up.

“What is this place?” she asked no one in particular.

“We are approaching the moon, Nur, Lady Irele.”

Irele turned her head to the side to see who answered: a young uniformed officer with black hair neatly cropped at the sides. He donned the exact same garbs as his colleagues, the only thing that differed was the badges pinned on his left chest—which was relatively fewer than the seasoned admiral.

The same officer didn’t go far from her; as the Anathema got into the moon’s exosphere, he escorted her—along with HY-L33, whom she insisted to be allowed to follow her—to the hangar where the shuttle Zenith awaits its passenger. Irele made herself comfortable in the main cabin, furnished with only a small round table surrounded by a booth, across it is a slab meant as a bench for other passengers.

The girl’s curiosity grew at the same time the moon scaled in size as they descended into the atmosphere. At first glance, she’d think the gray and black surface would be high cliffs; the Zenith cut through the clouds, revealing much of the land mass, she leaned in by the window to find that there was none. All of it was water. The only other terrain that existed there was the fortress that sat in the middle of the ocean, it was practically an artificial island in its own right.

“What is that?”

“That is Fortress Inquisitorius, Lady Irele.”

“What’s in there?”

“This is the standard lodge and training grounds for Inquisitors.”

It’s the first time she’s heard the word, though she’s absolutely sure that she is none of that.

“Why am I being brought here?”

A pause came upon the droid, HY-L33’s neck whirred as to bow her head.

“My apologies, neither captain nor crew have uploaded their ship manifest into my database.”

Irele made a mental note to request for HY-L33 to have special privileges if it involved her. That is, if she can even make one.

The fortress’s peak pierced through the sky like a spear, standing tall and as deep as the ocean floor. The pilot gently curbed around, allowing Irele a closer look and all of a sudden she felt weary.

–

Irele exited the Zenith and was then passed over to another officer, though much older and appearing to be perpetually vexed by this fool’s errand. Nevertheless, the escort officer walked Irele and HY-L33 through the fortress. It was a metal maze underwater.

The vibrant blue of the underwater life reflected a sheen over Irele’s widened eyes. Mouth agape, she had forgotten that she was in such a foreboding, ominous place. Never has she ever dreamed in her entire life that she’d see a place this blue, after living of seeing nothing but golden-brown sand that stretched up to the ridges where the twin suns hid.

The escort officer kept on blathering about where was what, schedules—her schedules, specifically—of her routines and training sessions. Irele was having none of it, she walked by the glass wall staring at the shoals that swam past her. Her distracted giggling caught the attention of the officer and he snapped.

“Lady Irele, did you hear what I just said?!”

The poor, startled girl’s shoulders jumped and her heels sprang. She froze in place.

“S-Sorry, I was looking at the water…”

The officer sighed and switched his tone, “Would you want me to arrange a tour in your own personal pod, young lady?”

It didn’t take a genius to see that the officer’s words were drawling with a harsh breed of sarcasm. Irele’s fists balled so tightly that her fingernails dug curves on the skin of her palms. She glowers at him, refusing to speak. The escort rolled his eyes and sighed, further irritated by this mundane task given to him.

“Puh! Children!” he scoffed under his breath as soon as he turned away from Irele and continued.

Eventually, they arrive to a viewing room with a wide window that spanned from left to right. Irele was reluctant to stand beside the escort, the latter thought likewise so he stepped back himself. Below the viewing deck, Irele witnessed something intense, brutal, and oddly fascinating.

Two individuals, armored head to foot in sleek black, both wielding weapons but each a different kind. One held a pair of rods, and the other a weapon in the same fashion as a hammer. Violet electricity crackling along the ends of the weapons sparked at every collision and strike each fighter made.

Irele pressed herself against the glass when the fight was getting good. She didn’t place her bet on anyone, she had never seen a graceful, calculated fight such as this—even though this is a normal sparring session, to keep these fighters’ wits and skills sharp. The dual wielder eventually wins after staggering his opponent with a flurry of attacks.

“Come now, young lady, it’s time I bring you to your quarters.”

She looks away from the viewing pane and then to the escort, her expression served enough as a question asking for elaboration, though he didn’t humor her with an answer—even if she actually asked.

Her room in Fortress Inquisitor was a bigger version of the one she had in the command ship; and so she had to adjust all over again, but seeing that it was no different either way, getting used to the room was somehow easy.

“Well, HY-L33, I guess we’ll be staying here for a while.”

“Indeed, Lady Irele. I will be here to assess you medically if you are fit for your regular training sessions assigned in your schedule.”

“Why am I going to be trained? Are they gonna make me an Inquisitor?”

“In a way, Lady Irele, yes. But you will not be named an Inquisitor.”

“Then what’s the point of training me? I get that I will need to learn how to fight but for what?”

HY-L33 stood silent and incapable of answering her master’s questions. Irele apologized for barraging the droid with questions that may not have been—as she now mockingly calls it—“not uploaded into her database.”

Irele took rest for the day, not knowing what’s in store for her in the coming days.

The pawn now moves.

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eldritch-fr-ideas · 3 years

Text

Uh huh, sure Kir, there was definitely something chasing you down in the Shrieking Wilds, we all believe that!

[Oh, shut up, I wasn't imagining it!]

{Ok, but have you considered that you totally were?}

(You do imagine everything under the sun...)

You know, if you guys want something really scary...let me tell you the story of Ascua.

Ascua was my hatchmate, see.

Not in actual genetics, but our original lair had a habit of gathering up eggs on their lonesome, and we hatched on the same day, nearly the same coloring, although completely opposite eyes- my water to his fire.

But we hatched on the same day, and we grew up together, so all in all we just called ourselves hatchmates and that was that.

{Come on, get on with it, get to the scary bit.}

Oh, come on, let me have my buildup. Would you rather Ascua was some random stranger?

("Was"...did your hatchmate die?)

I'm getting to that, Rolla.

But for the record, no.

So. Lets talk about the volcano, shall we?

You all know our Great Furnace, yes? Well, we lived- not in the furnace, our clan wasn't nearly renowned enough for that- but in the Blacksand Annex, where land is sculpted by every dragon's whim, and it's therefore such a beautiful chaos, to know how many clans reside there is almost impossible. Right easy to get away with not paying our dues, or to steal from another clan.

{Holy shit, Verre committed crimes.}

No-

That's not to say that anything we did was illegal, it's just that we all only bothered to keep track of coin or custody once or twice a year, when the forgemasters deigned to descend upon us and take the best of what we made. It was just...easier to not, with the smoke, and it's not like we were ever scarce on anything that way.

{It's still stealing, even if its consensual!}

That is not how that works.

In any case, it was on one of these such days when our story, proper, takes place. The forgemasters had come down from their Great Furnaces to collect what they thought theirs, and, well, me and Ascua had gotten it into our little heads to go hide from them. We were, what, a few months old at best?

This happened long before the Rebellion started burning, of course, and our overseers were not nearly so strict, nor the Furnaces closed, and the two of us had witnessed the sort of chaos the Annex was thrown into the entire week before, over who owned what and what dragon belonged to which clan, and it had...well, it had made us a bit nervous, about why it all mattered.

If even Tegere, who was this great big guardian who kept us safe from harm, was worried, what horrible beasts these masters had to be!

They weren't, and aren't, of course, just dragons with power, but we were young and foolish and thought everything was dangerous.

(Sounds familiar.)

[Hey- shut up, ok!?]

(Mmm....no :)

So we decided to hide. Our little minds thought that, well, if all the horrible forgemasters were down here, none would be up there, and so...

We flew up.

The smoke was particularly thick today, and none saw us leave.

No one would have stopped us if they did, too embroiled in their own troubles.

And so up, and up, and up we went.

Nothing stopped us.

Some days, I wish something had.

We went up, and then we went down.

Down, down, down to the great bellows in the earth, into a place that dragon-made machine could never hope to tame, where we must build enormous contraptions just to give us breath, and then even deeper, where that machinery had not yet reached. We got hopelessly turned around, jumping at every sizzle of smoke, and then we found our way again.

It turns out that we somehow made our way into the volcano through a passage that doesn't exist on any map, that doesn't exist at all. But that was only obvious after the fact, when I went back to check, to make sure what I experienced was real, and couldn't find the entrance I went into.

In the Great Furnaces, there were dragons, proud smelters and workers, but none of them noticed us, careful not to say a word, make a sound. They were too focused on their work, and the pounding of the enchanted hammer was already far louder than our footsteps.

But beyond that, below, there was not a soul but the two of us.

And, in all honesty, that was far more frightening.

The caves down here were not lit by anything but the free-flowing lava, the blood of Sorneith. Shadows flickered, and smoke burned our lungs.

And still, we kept going. Our footsteps did not echo, the sound taken by the pumice beneath us, around us, but we did not speak.

We just kept going.

I don't know why.

I don't want to.

Ascua was fire, and I was water, and our matching slate-grey colors were a natural camouflage against the rock.

But for all we matched, we had our differences. Ascua was far more certain, far more...driven. I was reserved.

And so as the smoke became thicker, and the air became thinner, and we still kept going deeper, and deeper, I think something shattered, for me.

Like glass.

I wanted to turn back, and I told Ascua so.

He did not listen. He did not even hear me.

I wasn't afraid enough to turn back, and so with him I went, but now, there was hesitation.

And, now, I knew that something was watching us.

I didn't know what that something was. Even now, I'm not really sure. But it was bigger than the volcano it "lived" in, if such a thing could ever live like we do.

It was not a person, nor a monster. It was greater than all of that. It saw more than any of us would see in a lifetime, and it had no need for eyes or blood or flesh or skin.

It had no need for a mortal mind nor a physical body.

It had such a thing anyway, in the volcano. It was...

Trapped.

We descended deeper. There was no sound. The stone turned red-hot, burning our feet, and still we went deeper.

I looked at Ascua, and I noticed that there was something wrong with his eyes.

They were too bright, and there was nothing behind them. They did not move at all, fixed on a point I no longer saw.

And I wanted to turn back,

but there was no point,

because all at once we arrived at the end of the tunnel.

There was a cavern

Its ceilings were as high as the sky and you

Could barely see the walls

Veins of magma trailed along the cavern

On the other side of it there was another tunnel going deeper down

Everything burned, red hot, and I blinked to keep out the smoke

I had not blinked the entire way

But now I did

Imprinted on the back of my eyelid I saw

Something much larger than I

It paid no mind to the dragons in the Furnace, those forgemasters that

Had driven us down here in the first place

For although the volcano was a part of it

It was not a very big part

And it did not care whether every dragon on itself lived or died

Though every dragon was on its skin

And the Pillar of the World could crumble to dust if it shifted

Though cared not about it

All it wanted was to be freed

And the two little specks that had made it just a little deeper into the vast creature

Might be a start

So it beckoned us to keep going

To free it from its bindings of fire and earth

I didn't go.

Ascua did, and as he did, he burned, and his eyes set alight.

I still have scars, from when I touched him, tried to pull him back.

And as I ran, and abandoned my brother, the great enormous thing at the heart of the world was...disappointed in me.

It let me leave, for there was nothing I could offer, and it would not care whether I lived or died.

Better than having its attention on me, I thought,

And I ran up, and up, and up,

Although as far as I ran, I knew I could never escape

The vast body of Sorneith.

(Kir, are you alright?)

[Wh-]

[Oh, yeah, sorry, I just...swore I...nevermind]

{What, imagining things again?}

[N...no, I definitely...]

I- Shit, if you're actually scared, don't...don't pay this story any mind, ok?

It's just a story.

You're safe here.

------

hi its prophet anon again the premise for this one was "u know shadow and arcane and ice and water are really easy to eldritch horror but u know what? no, im going to eldritch fire. take some dragon ocs and the concept that the world is incomprehensibly vast"

The narrator is Verre, and they look like so: https://www1.flightrising.com/scrying/predict?morph=1487467

Ascua looked like so (although who knows what he looks like now): https://www1.flightrising.com/scrying/predict?morph=1487468

And the 3 other side characters are Kir, who is in [square brackets], Rolla, who is in (parenthesis), and Fonen, who is in {squiggly brackets}

This snippet was a lot more trope-y i think, but tbh i managed to write a first person pov without hating it so we'll call that a win

----------------------------------------------

We forget what lays beneath. We forget what came before.

Even the gods fear something, no matter how much they hide it, and it will always come to light...

#offerings for cthgooloo #fr short horror #answered #submission #tw fire #tw underground #cthgooloo's forbidden tomes

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five-hxrgreeves · 4 years

Text

I Won’t Back Down - Five Hargreeves x OC

Word Count: 3,244

You can stand me up at the gates of hell But I won't back down I'm gonna stand my ground Won't be turned around And I'll keep this world from dragging me down

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

Pt. 4- Waking up to Ash and Dust

Lola didn’t know what woke her but she groaned and opened her eyes, lifting her head from where her cheek stuck to the page she’d been writing on before she’d fallen asleep. The basement was pitch-black, her candles having been burned out while she’d been resting. Unbothered, the brunette stood, stretched, and made her way to the wall where she knew the light switch was. After patting the guessed area, her hand hit on the dimmer and flicked it up. Nothing happened.

She moved it up and down several more times and the room remained completely dark. Frowning in confusion, Lola guessed that they’d lost power during the night for some reason. With no windows in the basement, it was impossible to tell what time it was or if a weather event had happened. Shrugging, she stepped twice to the right and placed her hand on the banister to guide her steps up the stairs. Only- she hit her head even halfway up.

”Ouch!” the girl yelped, rubbing the sore spot on her head. What the hell? The ceiling was never this low before! There were fifteen steps from the door to the bottom of the basement. Lola had only gone up ten.

She pushed on the supposed ceiling tentatively. No movement, “hey, guys? Mom? Dad?” she called, hoping someone would hear.

There was no way the ceiling was caved in, right? How would that even be possible? Maybe her uncle was pulling a prank on her and had stuffed obstacles down the stairs so she couldn’t come up.

“Uncle Ed? You’re really very funny! Haha!” she tried, hoping it would convince him to help move the stuff.

Then, something shifted and movement by her feet made her jump, causing her to yelp. There’s no mice down here, idiot. Her mother would never allow that, so what had fallen by her foot?

Still in pitch-blackness, Lola made her way back down the stairs until the was on the last one. Gripping the banister carefully, she moved her foot into the empty space below the final step until she hit what had fallen. Bending over, she was surprised by the weight of the item.

Lola moved the object between her hands, feeling the roughness and shape of it. It wasn’t any sort of object used for a prank, she determined. It felt like a part of her house. But how could that be right?

Stay calm, Lola, she told herself, there’s a reasonable explanation for this. Maybe mom decided to renovate the upstairs, started this morning, and forgot you were down here? That seemed a little far-fetched. What about school? Her mother always checked the basement if Lola wasn’t in her room and it had to be around the time she had to get ready.

Dropping the loose object, the girl made her way back up until her head brushed the blockage again, “MOM? DAD?” she yelled again, straining her ears for an answer.

What the hell happened last night? Or early this morning, she supposed. She called for her parents several more times, all of which went without response. Turning, she sat down on the seventh step and buried her face in her hands, the sudden coverage of her eyes making no difference with the black of the room.

Okay, she thought, you know the basement. What could you use to help you?

There were drills and electrical cords so she could drill herself out but she’d never used the tools before, her mom would go nuts and there seemed to be no power. She had candles, so she could burn her way through but if it was mostly cement on top of her that wouldn’t help. Paint was useless and so were light bulbs. She doubted there was something useful in the holiday section. Did they have a pick axe? Those couldn’t be so hard to use. Or maybe an anvil and a hammer.

That would take longer but didn’t require electricity and her mom might be more okay with that.

What if it caves in on you, though? she considered, biting her lip as she tried to puzzle around it, what did people use to prevent cave-ins? Some type of support, she supposed. Did they store plywood in the basement? Was that even strong enough?

Stay calm, Lola, you can do this. And besides, she was jumping ahead of herself. Surely her parents would notice and dig her out? Maybe there wasn’t even that much blockage and it just seemed like a lot. It probably just was a rotten prank her Uncle Ed had cooked up but she couldn’t see her mother being okay with her being late for school because of it. Still, she didn’t want to jump to conclusions so she stood and made her way back up the stairs, calling as loudly as she could, “MOM? DAD? UNCLE ED?”

There was no telling how much time had passed but no answer came as Lola’s voice tired out. After her 839th call, she gave a final cough, turned, and sat down, bending her head slightly to accommodate the small space. What now?

Surely it was past school’s starting time. Her uncle and father would be at the store and her mother would be at the library starting her shift. Lola sighed and strained her eyes into the blackness, hoping it would reveal an answer of what happened. It didn’t, of course, but she wasn’t sure what else to do. Maybe her voice wasn’t loud enough? The thought suddenly occurred to her and part of her favorite, well-memorized story came back to her: Liesel hit the lid of a paint can. Maybe her paint cans weren’t as useless as she thought.

After sliding down the stairs feet first and lowering herself carefully by her hands, she stood and made her first step to the left. Suddenly, she was very glad she was a counter. There were exactly twenty-seven and a half steps to the paint section of the shelves from the bottom of the stairs. Carefully counting them out, she arrived in the correct place and took the top paint can after feeling around for the handle. Then, with another fifteen steps, she made her way to the hand-held tools and felt along the second shelf for a hammer, pleased when her hand grasped the worn, wooden handle.

Turning, Lola counted the total forty-two and a half steps back to the stairs and went up again to the blockage. Placing the paint can on the last available step, she swung the hammer down, hard, on the lid. It let out a resounding clang which was loud in the dark stillness and made her flinch in surprise. Shaking off her prickle of fear, she repeated the action several more times.

The girl jumped when something slightly wet splashed on her and she gingerly felt the spot where it landed on her shirt. Oops.

The lid had dented after so many hits and now it had finally given, the most recent contact had splashed the sent the wet paint flying. She swallowed nervously. How many paint cans did they have? How long would she be stuck here? Clearly, no one was coming to help. Lola supposed she should have waited until her parents would actually be home but the thought hadn’t occurred to her until now. Besides, who knew how long it had been?

The thought made her shudder slightly, the idea of days passing without being released not sitting well with her. She loved the basement but even she didn’t want to live out the rest of her days here. I need light, Lola thought, slightly frantically.

She shook herself and took a deep breath. As well as she knew the space, losing count of the steps wouldn’t help her. She descended the stairs again and stepped left, this time counting out eleven steps. Her hands found the candles and matches blindly, relieved when she felt that there were twenty-five in all. She would still conserve the light, though. Just in case.

Lola repeated her path in reverse and sat on the third step, carefully holding one slim, long candle between her legs as she prepared the lighter. There was a spark and the match caught, causing her to quickly set it to the wick and shake it out, relieved to keep some of the darkness at bay. Holding the light aloft, the brunette stood from the stairs and in twenty-one steps she reached the far wall where a wine cellar of sorts stood embedded into the cement. The space was tiny and hand-dug, extremely cold in the winter and less so in the summer but was an additional food storage area for long-term items. They didn’t usually keep it very full but there were several packages of canned drinks, two tubs of ice cream, some frozen dinners and a case of water.

The girl now took stock of the items, checking that each one she thought was in there actually was and was reassured that she would be able to survive down here for some time, if it came to that. She hoped not. Lola had zero practiced survival skills and what she knew only came from books like Hatchet which wouldn’t truly help her here.

She wasn’t an idiot; rationing her food should start immediately and she needed to go as long as possible without eating or drinking to make it last longer. Going to the bathroom would be a challenge, but she’d dedicate a spot and hope for the best.

Stop it, idiot, Lola thought suddenly, you’re acting like you’re stuck down here. You probably aren’t.

Still, she couldn’t help but think what if she was? At least the couch could act as her bed and the rest of the time would be spent trying to free herself.

She sighed and exited the food storeroom, at least you don’t have to worry about homework right now. Your teachers will understand if you miss because you’re trapped in a basement. Hopefully.

Okay, she thought, if worst comes to worst, you’re pretty well off. There’s definitely no need to panic. Nope, none at all. Think: what would Liesel do? WWLD? She wouldn’t panic- well, she did at the sight of her dead-

STOP. Don’t think like that. The point is, she didn’t panic when she was trapped in her basement. People came to help. The same will happen for you. You’ve always wanted to be like her, remember? Now’s your chance.

“At least this will make for an interesting section in my autobiography,” Lola commented aloud and instantly shook her head, stop it, talking to yourself is a sure sign of insanity. It had only been a few hours at most, probably eight.

The uncertainty of exactly how many made her shudder slightly.

The next day- or what she assumed was the next day- she tried the same routine, calling her parents’ and uncle’s names for as long as she could before her voice gave and then resorting to banging on a paint can until it, too, gave. Lola used some of her light to count exactly how many paint cans she had, which were fifteen. A little over two weeks and she’d used two already.

They could help her keep track of the estimated days. To keep herself busy, she also partitioned out her food into servings so she wouldn’t eat a lot at once, even if she was really hungry. Her stomach was already starting to growl but she pushed through knowing it could get worse.

Another obstacle she realized she had was that there was no running water, not that the basement had a sink. There was no way to keep her hands clean or wash herself and she cringed at the thought of becoming disgustingly dirty.

The next guessed day came and Lola was entertaining the idea that something had gone very, very wrong outside. She’d sat for several hours next to the cave-in and heard nothing. She allowed that the pile on top of her was too thick to let sound through but it seemed that she’d hear police sirens or something as they swarmed over the collapsed house.

The thought made her heart twist in her chest. What about her parents? Were they hurt? The only explanation that there could be was the house collapsed, but surely they hadn’t been inside when it happened? They were probably worried out of their minds right now about her. Lola wished she could send them a message that she was okay.

An idea had crossed her mind that she could tap out an SOS out on her paint can lid but she didn’t know Morse code and had tossed the idea aside. The brunette was glad that she had rather weak olfactory senses and couldn’t easily smell herself but she was sure that after three days of not showering, she must stink.

You stink to high heaven! her mother would say. Lola had never missed her as much as she did right now and she wished she could have been more understanding about her mother’s reasoning for things. The next time she gives me chores or scolds me, I won’t ever complain again.

Two more days passed without much change. Lola still lived in darkness most of the time, worried about running out of light. It was surprisingly easy to stick to food rations. She’d never been a big eater but she wasn’t a small eater either. She chalked it up to the fact that she could count each serving.

Her first time going to the bathroom without a toilet had been awkward and messy but luckily they did store toilet paper and trash bags on the lower part of one of the shelves so at least she could clean up. The couch was a fine sleeping place and only creaked a little when she shifted around.

After spending her obligatory hours trying to get help, Lola would then shuffle, shuffle, shuffle her cards, over and over again to keep the panic at bay, the action familiar and comforting. In the dark, she would try magic tricks which proved to be difficult as she couldn’t see the result. Then, she returned to counting all fifty-two of the cards, reassuring herself that they were all there. Her writing fell by the wayside as she focused on keeping herself calm and definitely not panicking.

After approximately one week, Lola was starting to feel the affects of being stuck in the dark for so long. Sleep had become more difficult and she instead lay awake for hours, staring into nothing as she lay on her side on the couch, the cushions pressed against her back. It was easier to operate without light now, too. She still counted her steps whenever she moved around but her ears seemed sharper- the ringing of the paint can lid proved that- her touch seemed more sensitive and it seemed like her smell had improved, too, because she was definitely stinking.

Lola wished she had a change of clothes at least, but she was out of luck. The only possibility of new cloth was Christmas tree skirts and that wouldn’t help her since she didn’t have needle and thread- not that she was even a fashion designer, but she could have figured something out.

Sometimes, when she stared at nothing for long periods of time, bright spots would enter her vision or strange, geometric shapes would pop up. Then, she would blink and they would disappear. The thought of seeing things terrified her and Lola made an effort to keep her eyes physically closed instead of just peering into the darkness.

By the beginning of the second week, sleep had suddenly come back. Lola thought she was just closing her eyes in short spurts but in reality, they were closed for many hours. The paint cans helped keep her from misjudging how many days she’d spent in isolation and the food rations did too, slightly.

The panic that had threatened to overwhelm her had ebbed, only poking at the back of her mind every so often. Lola could feel that her body had become weaker, too, even though she spent many hours pacing the edge of the space, counting out all 900 steps. It was clear that no one was coming to help her but she couldn’t bring herself to stop hoping. Even as she lost everything else, something told her to press forward and keep believing someone would come.

She’d been speaking to herself more and more too, to cover up the awful silence that persisted in the darkness. She’d often just recite parts of her autobiography, sang song lyrics she'd memorized or she’d spend several hours reciting The Book Thief as a way to help calm her as her panic increased. One time, in her rotations, she’d turned on the third corner and had stopped for a moment, eyes wide, as what looked like a monkey on a unicycle juggled in front of her, complete with flashing circus lights and music.

Lola’s mouth had dropped open and she’d let out a crazy, slightly maniacal laugh before she rubbed at her eyes furiously in disbelief. The darkness had promptly returned, leaving her to shiver fearfully on the spot.

On the twelfth day, according to her paint cans- not that she actually knew for sure anymore- something changed. Lola hadn’t been expecting it, of course, and had gone on with her usual routine. Then, in one of her circuits of the basement, she heard something, out of the ordinary from the sounds she was used to- not that there were many. Her pulse picked up. Was someone trying to kill her?

“No, stupid,” she said aloud, her voice raw and hoarse from the hours she spent yelling, “you’re dumb. There’s no one alive. I think we’re alone now.”

The words didn’t make sense but then nothing much did these days. When had she started speaking in plural? Still, the shifting continued.

Creeping slowly up the staircase, the brunette paused next to her already set-up paint can. It certainly sounded like someone was out there. The girl looked down the dark staircase, thinking about her remaining food and liquid supply which was now rapidly dwindling, her shrinking amount of candles, paint cans and matches, her wrinkled, used deck of cards and came to a decision.

At first, her banging went unnoticed on the surface until the shifting stilled above her.

“Hello?” the sound was faint and muffled, clearly she was hearing things.

Lola continued her banging, hoping that maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t.

The shifting resumed but it seemed more purposeful now. The sound came again, “hello? Is anyone there?”

Bang, bang, bang came the answer, the brunette continuously hitting the lid. A chink of brilliant light appeared above her head, making her shut her eyes in pain.

“Hello? Can you hear me?” it was definitely a voice, a young one, too.

Then, the hole opened wider, wider, and wider until bright light came pouring into the dark space. Turning up her face but closing her eyes, Lola tried to look up at who had come for her. Maybe she was dead and the light was from heaven.

The answer was the exact opposite as the voice spoke again, this time disbelief clear in the tone, “what the hell?”

#The Umbrella Academy #Umbrella Academy #five #five hargreeves #five hargreeves x dolores #5 #five hargreeves x oc #five hargreeves x reader #Five x oc #five x reader #five x dolores #human dolores #dolores isn't a mannequin #dolores #pre-tua #apocalypse #hargreeves #tua five

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krixel · 3 years

Text

So, I’ve had a horrendous fucking week (family, am I right?) and I have, admittedly, had more than one glass of Scotch to drink (family, am I right?) but I was doing a dive into my old Beyblade Tala/Trey WIPs, which were written entirely for me because I’d never ever considered the thought of coming back to posting fanfiction, let alone Tala/OC fanfiction - that joke is forever on me but GLU is my trope riddled passion project baby that you can pry from my cold dead hands - and I’d forgotten about this bizarre Tala has a twin, whose identity he stole, government experiment mess of an AU that I still love.

So yeah, here’s the less than 2,000 words start of that story, because why not? So, if you’re at all interested in another Tala/Trey AU where they’re established and Tala has a twin... here it is. Also, my writing is rough, because it’s from 3 years ago, and I wrote it on my phone while I was making dinner.

The door opened once the stairs had been secured, and the ball of tension that had started in his stomach crawled up Kai’s throat. There was only a single passenger on the private jet, and the afternoon sun gleamed against his blond hair as he emerged. A laptop bag was slung across his body and he gripped the handle of a small suitcase. Kai would never get used to seeing him; a grownup version of a past ghost. Kai pushed off the hood of his Mercedes and moved to meet the newcomer as he reached the tarmac. Blue eyes - hollow and colder than the snow that fell around them - gave him a once over before he tilted his head in acknowledgment. “Kai. I see my brother still has you running his errands like a good dog.”

“Mikaela. I see time has done nothing to improve your charm,” Kai said, resisting the urge to scold the other for his casual use of his relationship with Tala.

“Forgive me. Unlike others, I cannot put on a false face when looking at one of the people who ruined my life,” Mikaela said, striding past Kai and towards the awaiting car.

Kai rolled his eyes but followed the other to the car. He popped the trunk but did not offer to put away Mikaela’s luggage. His unwelcome guest took the hint and did it himself. He climbed into the passenger seat, and Kai was hitting the gas almost before the door closed. “We did give you a choice,” Kai said after a while. “You chose to keep breathing.”

Mikaela huffed, the sound brushing against amusement, and eyed Kai from his peripheral. “I have always been curious, Kai. In all these years, other than the one obvious crime, you seem to be a decent sort of person. How do you stomach calling a monster like my brother friend?”

Kai’s knuckles whitened around the steering wheel, but his tone was a notch above boredom. “Tala is my best friend,” he said. “And if I have ever given you the impression that I was decent, then I apologize. Tala was the one who wanted to let you live. I told him it was smarter to kill you. You're a liability.”

“How quaint, after all, was I not Tala, once upon a time?”

“Not in any of the ways that matter,” Kai said.

Mikaela clicked his tongue but said nothing else for the remainder of the drive, just propped his chin on his fist and watched the once familiar city pass by the window. As Kai pulled into the underground parking for Tala’s building, Mikaela tensed, gloved hands curling into fists at the pressing darkness. Kai scoffed as he shut off the car. “Relax, Mikaela,” he said. “You're the one who wanted an in-person meeting, so don't act like we're going to drag you out back and shoot you.”

“Given past experience, can you blame me?” Mikaela asked as he pushed open the car door, hiding his relief at finding it unlocked.

Kai shrugged and tucked his hands in his pockets as he waited for the other to retrieve his suitcase. “Like I said, you’re the one who wanted to be here.”

“Wanted is an exceptionally powerful word. I was put in a situation that was unsafe to express by any other means,” Mikaela said. He popped the handle on his suitcase and followed Kai to the side door of the building. A man with a buzz cut and arms the size of tree trunks opened the door for them, acknowledging Kai with a grunt and frowning at Mikaela.

Kai returned the nod, a wry smile twisting his lips. “Leave him be for now. Tala will let you know if that changes.”

Mikaela bristled at the threat but under the brutal look from the guard - more like ex-military or grizzly bear fighter - kept his mouth shut. As Kai cleared both the retinal scanner and fingerprint, Mikaela lifted an eyebrow. “A bit paranoid, isn't he?”

“Can't imagine why?” Was the dry response as Kai turned his key and the elevator finally started its ascent.

Despite the massive height of the building, the elevator ride was quick and silent, and Mikaela’s lip curled in disgust at the lavish foyer beyond the wrought iron gate. Kai unlocked it and pushed it aside, then motioned Mikaela out first before he followed. Mikaela towed off his boots by the door, but made no effort to remove his jacket or scarf. Kai patted him on the shoulder as he walked by, his smile just the dull side of vicious. “Island life thin your Russian blood? Or are you not planning to stay long?”

“He won't be staying long.” Tala stepped out of the living room, the sound of the tv still audible in the openess of his penthouse, and stood with a hand braced on his hip. “Hello, Mika.”

Blue eyes clashed, one pair narrowing while the other glittered with deceptive amusement. Mikaela fought down a snarl, but his expression remained blank. If he let Tala rile him so soon, they would get nowhere. “Yuriy.” Mikaela looked around their surroundings before his attention returned to the redhead. “It looks like you are doing well for yourself.”

Tala’s smile sharpened against the whetstone of the taunt. “You act like I don't share it with you,” he said. “Or is there something you want that I haven't given you?”

“What I want cannot be bought, no matter how much wealth you accumulate,” Mika said.

Tala shrugged. “I better not have flown you all the way here just to rehash your grievances against me, Mika,” he said. “Getting you back into the country undetected wasn't easy.”

“I wasn't aware I existed, as far as anyone else was concerned.”

Before the rising tension could escalate further another set of footsteps sounded from the direction of the living room. Trey came around the corner, eyes flicking towards Kai, then the newcomer, and then back to Kai. “Damn. I thought you left to get pizza,” she said. “Is that even a thing here? You guys do have pizza in Russia, right? Oh my god, if not I need to go home, right now.”

Tala snorted at his girlfriend, his shoulders easing despite the proximity of Mika, and Kai resisted the urge to hug Trey for her brilliance. There was no way she'd missed the rising threat in the foyer, but she diffused Tala with the expertise of a bomb unit. She moved to Tala’s side, tucking herself under his arm and against his side. “Why do all of your friends look like they walked off magazine covers? Seriously?”

“We are not friends,” Mika said, eyes surveying Trey with confusion. He was the dirty little secret Tala kept locked far away from him, and yet Tala did not seem at all concerned about the girl’s presence.

“Co-worker? Arch nemesis? Is that still a thing?”

“Twin brother, though I suppose arch nemesis isn't entirely out of the question,” Tala cut her off.

Even Kai’s eyebrows lifted at Tala’s casual admittance to Mika’s identity. Trey blinked, and waited for the punchline, though as she looked closer it was impossible to deny the resemblance - really it came down to Tala’s ridiculous hair. And then with the horror of someone who has just realized they left their child at a store, said, “You mean there's two of you in the world?”

“It's still up for debate which one is the evil one,” Kai said, as he shrugged out of his jacket.

“You knew?” Trey asked, then frowned at the obvious question. “Of course you knew. You just picked him up from the airport.”

Tala smiled as Trey devolved into her nervous rambling, and tightened his arm around her. “Why don’t you go spend some time with Kai while Mika and I catch up?”

Trey blinked at the obvious dismissal, but nodded. Tala tended to tell her the truth, so if he wanted her gone for that conversation then he had good reason. Trey lifted on her toes and Tala tilted his head down to meet her kiss. He lifted his arm and Trey shuffled away from him, sparing a glance for Mika. “Um… nice to meet you?” Mika stared at her without expression and said nothing. “Right, or not, I guess.”

Tala’s eyes narrowed but said nothing, and Trey crossed the foyer to Kai, who rolled his eyes and ushered her towards the stairs. “Ignore him,” he said. “Mika hates Tala and anyone associated with him. It's nothing personal to you.”

“So, Tala has a twin?” she asked. “And they hate each other, but no one thought to mention it.”

Kai ran his hand through his hair, expression pinched with frustration. “It's complicated, and probably better left for Tala to explain,” he said. “I wouldn't even know where to start. I'm sorry he showed up now, though, while your here. It’s not going to make for the best vacation.”

“It seemed serious,” Trey said, remembering the black mood Tala descended into after that particular phone call. “And you seemed surprised Tala introduced us?”

“I was,” Kai said, opening the door to the game room and letting Trey step through first. “Tala is - guarded - about Mika.”

Trey flopped onto one of the couches in the room, propping her chin on her fist. “You thought Tala would lie to me?” Her tone walked a delicate balance between curiosity and hurt, and Kai realized his next words needed to be careful.

“Yes,” he admitted, and took a seat on a chair facing Trey. “About Mika’s identity, at least. It's hard to explain without explaining everything, but no one knows about Mika except me, and Ian because he hacked Tala’s files once.”

Trey laughed. “Tala had to be furious.”

Kai’s smile was faint. “Ian stayed with me for a couple of weeks while Tala calmed down,” he said. “I think that's the maddest I’ve ever seen him at Ian, but it worked out. Ian lives here, better for him to know.”

“But not me?”

Kai shook his head. “If that were the case, Tala wouldn't have introduced you. Believe me, I’m relieved. Don't mistake my surprise for judgment.”

“Why is the fact that Tala has a twin such a big deal?”

“Because, if the wrong people found out, it would end me,” Tala said.

Kai and Trey looked up at the intrusion and Tala smiled. He sat down beside Trey and adjusted when she cuddled against his side. “Mika’s getting settled,” Tala said to Kai’s look. “I figured you’d be giving her cryptic explanations, and thought it'd be better for me to just explain.”

“I wish someone would,” Trey said, elbowing Tala in the ribs.

Tala kissed the top of her head. “Knowing my darkest secrets isn't as appealing as it might seem, just ask Kai,” he said. “Last chance to bow out.”

“Tala, you were a psychotic lunatic I used to hate. Let's be clear that my opinion of you is pretty low, already,” Trey said.

The tension in Tala eased again and he relaxed against her. “Right. Somehow, I keep forgetting that bit.”

#holy dialogue exposition dump batman #yikes this is rough #but also nice to see how I've improved #and literally was never intended for more eyes than mine #and I already knew the story #so yeah #here's a thing #excuse me while I go panic about posting it later #er also zero intention of ever continuing this #it's literally here for kicks

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