#kyra is the sun to my shine | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

maple-writes · 11 months

Text

WHG 20 - Training (the rest of it)

WHG tag list: @concealeddarkness13 @ratracechronicler @pen-of-roses @grailfish @forthesanityofstorytellers @pied-piper-of-hamlet

featuring @pen-of-roses' Silver, and also I stole Hugo from @ratracechronicler briefly!

I didn’t sleep after the peacekeepers dumped me back to our floor of the tower, instead taking Ginger’s tablet she’d left on the table while she’d headed out for the night, and searching every database I could think of, reading and jotting notes from any article even tangentially related to anything that might help Primary. Gods, real or false, ancient or modern, anything that might give me at least a slight lead. My wrist ached from gripping my pen and scrawling note after note, citation after citation, through Ginger’s spare notebook as my handwriting slowly went less and less careful.

The sun rose gradually outside, shining in through the windows and reflected off the other glittering buildings on the Capitol. My eyes stung, my reading slow now as my brain fogged, fuzzy from reading paper after paper but there had to be more. Had to be something. I’d found more than I expected, more that I thought I would this soon but there was something missing. Or maybe I’d have to look at my notes again, find something I missed. Something that would free Primary from their stasis without destroying all they’d worked so hard to create. They said they didn’t care, but what about after? What would they think when it was all said and done and they stood before everything they once created, everything they must have once cared for, dead and gone by their own hand?

Would they feel the same as I did, seeing Cirrus watch me in fear, seeing him run, seeing Kyra put herself between me and Striker for his own safety? Would it feel the same as my hand around Striker’s throat? The same as returning to dead grass and trees and knowing it was my fault? To knowing I could never undo what I’d done?

I couldn’t let them face that. Not if I could help it.

A gloved hand fell on my shoulder and I jumped, twisted to see Ginger frowning down at me.

“Asher, what’s going on?” Her eyes flicked from me to the papers scattered on the table. “What is this? How long have you been up?”

I set the pen down, massaging my aching wrist. “Remember the god I was telling you about, the one that kept part of themself in Ares?” I paused, waiting as she nodded. “They, peacekeepers and a scientist, they took me to them last night and tried to make me their new vessel and I didn’t let them but Ginger, they,” I swallowed, throat tightening and eyes burning with tearful pressure. “They’ve been there for thousands of years, alone, stuck in a state they called stasis and I can’t just leave them like that. They’re lonely, and desperate and angry and say they’re willing to destroy everything they created but I, I don’t believe them.” I shook my head, tears escaping, slipping down my cheek, remnants from last night not dispersed by sleep. “I don’t know if I can fix it in time before the games so I need you to promise you’ll try for me.”

Ginger’s brows furrowed further as she tried to follow along. She reached for the notebook and tentatively flipped through, pausing on the page I’d done my best to sketch the corpse on, arrows and annotations pointing out what I couldn’t capture properly. “A god hm?” She tucked a loose strand of hair back as she studied the diagram. “It’s not going to be easy to do anything to a god, but I don’t want to say yet that it’s impossible. You already managed to destroy a fragment of it so I’m leaning towards not impossible but I’ll take a closer look at your notes later.” She sighed. “Right now I’m worried that it’s not a process I would be able to do alone, if this god is considerably powerful or stubborn.”

“I was told there might be a chance of escape.” I shouldn’t just be blurting this out, but my head spun, exhausted and without second thought. “Triel reached out to me the other day and invited me along. She has a plan and outside help.” I’d told her I wasn’t sure if I could handle it but now I had to. “I, I’m going to try as best I can to keep it together, to stay on her good side so I can come back.”

She nodded, uncharacteristically quiet as she looked between me and the notebook. When she spoke it was strangely soft, quiet. “You’re set on this aren’t you?”

“I, I am.” I leaned back in my chair, curling my shoulders. “I, I don’t know. I can’t just leave them there. I don’t think the scientists there have their best interests in mind, or they would have tried something besides presenting countless people as potential vessels.” I swallowed, wiping my face with my sleeve. “After what I felt there, I can’t just leave them there to suffer. It’s not right.”

Ginger set the notebook down. “Alright, I’ll see what I can do. If it gives you a reason to focus on surviving then I promise I will help you with this.”

“Thank you Ginger.” I took a long breath, shaky and weak. “For everything.”

“Like I said, I wasn’t about to let you face this alone.” She gently took the tablet from in front of me, out of my reach. “Get some rest. Training can wait.”

Could it? There wasn’t much time left. Half a week and I’d already wasted most of the first day so less than half a week to figure out how to survive long enough to escape and come back. “I’ll be okay, I’ll take it easy.”

She gave me a doubtful look but didn’t argue. “If you insist.”

Maybe I should have taken her advice. I swayed as I stood in the doorway of the hall just long enough to get my bearings before making for one of the stations. Noise buzzed in the background and it the images of plants blurred slightly but I could still make just enough of them out to try and figure out which was what, and which were poisonous. I took the quiz at the end and got most wrong and moved on.

I tried the next station, and the next, with about the same result. Some I remembered, like how to sharpen a blade and how to climb an easy tree, but most came as a blur and I left another station in the same way, wandering to see if anything else caught my eye. It wouldn’t hurt to try and improve my fitness before the games but how much could I really hope to achieve before the end of the week?

Another tribute brushed my arm and I turned, following a few steps behind them. They weren’t sure what to do. Weren’t sure if they could-

No, no. I turned around, fast enough my head spun and hurried in the opposite direction. I couldn’t start. Couldn’t start that again. I had to keep calm and controlled for the next few days and then the next foreseeable future. I could do that, right? Right?

—

The next day proved harder than I thought. My head spun all day. Fears and trepidations were dialing up with only a couple days left of training, sharp and choking through the air. What ifs and nerves and for some excitement. My heart skipped walking past others and too many times I had to force my head down, hold my hands together and flee away, anywhere but next to a tribute with just enough vulnerability that i could have tried to exploit. Had to hold my tongue, hide away in some dark corner away from curious eyes.

Twice I had to bite my tongue hard enough it bled, iron coating my mouth as I nearly ran back to the elevator. Bracing on the walls and panting, gasping as my heart raced and the lights flickered and my hand shook wanting to press the down button again. To find an easy target, an easy victim who wouldn’t see it coming. Twice I stumbled, shaking and snarling into the apartment.

Once while Cirrus was unlucky enough to meet me. I lunged at him across the table, plates and cups shattering on the ground as I caught him by surprise with claws digging into his arms and a growl in my throat and spitting on about how his mother disowned him and he was hardly a prince at all and he was an idiot to think anyone would ever care about him. That I never in my life would care for him.

But he’d heard it all before and he was stronger than me, throwing me off and sending me sliding across the marble floor. Throw me across the floor and sit by me as I realized what I’d done. What I’d done again.

“For fucks sake give me some warning next time,” he huffed, sitting close enough my shoulder brushed me arm.

He offered his hand and I took it, squeezing hard as his steadiness seeped in through his skin, calm, familiar, safe. Cirrus knew, he knew I didn’t mean it, but guilt gnawed at my stomach along with hunger. When was the last time I ate? I could hardly remember what day it was, what time, how long I’d been here for.

I shouldn’t have needed it, but he picked me up off the floor and carried me to my bedroom, tucking me in and hand delivering a tray of finger foods from the dining room. He sat with me, eating and talking but listening as I cried on about Primary, about Chess, about how I didn’t know if I could make it.

He listened, quiet, removing the tray when it was done and tucking himself in on the other side of the bed. “Like I said, maybe resistance isn’t what’s going to work for you.”

How could he know? How could anyone know? He held me from behind as I curled up in the bed, sniffling and teary eyed yet again but it was warm, and if Cirrus was here I wouldn’t have anything to be afraid of.

“How could I?” I mumbled, sleep pulling at me yet again. “I can’t do those things to people, I can’t just let it happen.”

He hummed, noncommittal. “Who knows. Might not hurt if someone’s in your way though.” He paused adjusting a pillow or something out of my view. “What if you just didn’t say anything?”

I sighed. Maybe. Maybe that would work but who could say for certain? I wouldn’t put it past myself to try something else even if I lost all ability to speak. I’d still find a way, find a way to torment whoever caught my attention next.

But it was harder and harder to dwell, with soft evening light shining in through half-drawn curtains, and Cirrus warm and solid and steady at my back.

—

Another day and I tried again to venture into the training hall but the air buzzed higher, sharper, electric with anticipation and wariness and the looming dread that it was coming. Coming sooner rather than later now. How many days? How many days until they sent us off now? What day was it?

I didn’t want to risk asking anyone, to risk asking and opening them to what I might say. There were so many tributes, people, and not all of them sure of themselves. Standing at the edge I found myself eyeing anyone who passed, as if crouched in waiting for wounded prey, someone I could sink my teeth, my words into, to twist what they thought against them. To see the hope dashed from their eyes, the fight drain from their body and I took everything I could, took it to be destroyed.

Fuck.

Without thinking too much I headed to the pool. Someone told me these jumpsuits were good for the water. Or maybe that was a dream. I couldn’t remember anymore. I walked straight in, plummeting into the deep end. Sounds came muffled and far away under the water but I couldn’t stay under long before my lungs burned and I swam to the top.

The water was too warm, overchlorinated, but it was better than nothing. Moving to stay afloat made it harder to think about the weakness that a man who’s name started with an H but didn’t come to me, might have had as he floated by on a makeshift raft fastened from materials nicked from other stations across the hall. I spread my fingers in the water, clawing through it with uncoordinated strokes. It felt nice between my fingers, satisfying as I splashed downward, clawing and scratching at the top of the water and kicking out behind me.

H, Henry? No, not quite, on his raft watched with the look of a lifeguard deciding if he got paid enough to intervene just yet as I opened my mouth, biting down at the surface and letting the treated water flood my mouth. I coughed when some got past my throat and it burned my nose, but I didn’t stop. Biting and splashing down and bobbing above and below the surface.

A rope slapped the water ahead of me and I kicked to turn, treading water clumsily. H had the other end in his hand.

“Don’t think you’re supposed to drown until later.”

I coughed again, clearing the last of the burning water from my mouth and nose. “I, sorry. I’m alright.” My cheeks heated, flustered. What the fuck was I thinking doing all that in front of everyone. “I’m just uh, I’m just playing around. Thanks, though.”

He shrugged and reclined back on his raft. “Carry on then.”

I paddled a little farther away before resuming, and diving down and up and down and up feeling the water trail behind my strokes and bubbles tickle my hands when drawn down from the surface. I must have lost track of time, alternating between splashing and diving and paddling lazily because one of the trainers shouted at me that it was time to go, waiting impatiently as I hauled myself up out and made my way back up to my floor dripping wet.

It might have been the last day now. I had to ask Ginger before heading down, head fuzzy and not sure what day it was anymore. She said it was.

Tonight there were tests, tomorrow there were interviews, and the next day the games.

Swaying on my feet I stumbled through the training hall trying to cram as much left as I could. Jumpy when anyone spoke to me I kept answers short, finding some excuse to hurry away when I wasn’t sure what I would say next. Today at least, hopefully others would assume my demeanor was nerves and nothing else. Nothing dangerous. Nothing that had to be looked out for.

Until I saw her again. Chess. Standing with her back to me, looking over a station next to someone I didn’t recognize. Vulnerable. Weak. A monster. My heart skipped and beat faster, my eyes locked on the back of her head. She didn’t know I was watching her. Watching her, stronger than her in conviction. I could feel my teeth sharpening as I took an unsteady step. Whoever was with her couldn’t protect her. I could take them both, talk them both down if I tried hard enough.

I walked slow, silent, eyes locked on her as if there was nothing else. I could finish what I started. It was so close last time. Just a little more and—

And what? I froze, every hair on my skin standing on end. No. Not again. I couldn’t do this again. Not when, not when I promised. I swallowed, blood cold as I backed up, away, away.

The elevator was past her. I would have to go past her. Would that be a good idea? No, no probably not. I couldn’t let her see me. Couldn’t let her see me and tell Triel or get hurt or.

Somewhere else.

Legs shaking I stumbled away, searching for somewhere to hide. Just in case. Just in case I saw her again and I didn’t notice what I was thinking in time again and…

A box-like room in the corner, a sound booth used for identifying bird song and other animal calls that might come in handy. There was a door. No one would hear me and I couldn’t hear anyone. Couldn’t see anyone, couldn’t touch anyone, couldn’t find anyone to hunt. Couldn’t find anyone to hurt.

My hand shook as I fumbled with the doorknob. I pushed the door open and stepped in and froze.

Someone was already here. They sat in the back corner, staring back at me. “Oh, sorry.” I glanced back over my shoulder. Could I make it? Could I risk it? What it, what if… “Mind if I join you?” It wasn’t worth it, wasn’t worth figuring out if I could handle myself right now.

They winced, pulling their shirt up over their ears as they nodded and quickly waved me in. The air around them buzzed, erratic and I clenched my teeth against the urge to scream, to yell, to start the birdsong training and turn the volume louder, louder, to slam the door, instead forcing my hands to move slow, to close it softer than it opened. I wasn’t here to hurt anyone. I didn’t, now wasn’t the time.

I sat at the other end of the booth, wedging myself into the far corner. Eyes shut tight I took breath after breath, slowing my racing heart, running my fingers over the smooth pearls around my wrist. I didn’t want to hurt anyone. I didn’t want to hurt Chess, or any of the other tributes. I didn’t want to scare the tribute hiding in this booth. Didn’t want to make them cry, not like before. I was supposed to get through this alive, and to do that I couldn’t hurt anyone. I wouldn’t be like him. I was better than him. Better.

Slowly the soft quiet eased the tightness in my chest, the twitch in my fingers to grip and claw.

The tribute sitting there, they wouldn’t expect it. Wouldn’t expect me to come after them. They were hardly even watching, already hiding from something. All I had to do was brush their skin and I—

No, no. I held my hands clasped together in front of me and forced another, longer breath. They hadn’t done anything to me. I’d hardly seen them before now. I didn’t want to hurt them.

I sighed, letting my eyes open and drift towards them. Something wasn’t quite human about them, something unfamiliar. Not something I’d seen before, but it didn’t seem to be unusual in this batch of tributes for someone to be not quite human nor something I’d seen before.

“Sorry if I scared you,” I kept my voice barely a whisper, even that carrying within the sound proofed walls. “My name’s Asher.”

“Silver.” They whispered back, voice rough and hoarse. “Didn’t scare, could hear you coming, just, loud.” They motioned at the door.

That would explain what they were doing hiding here. I sighed. They were right too. “It’s… A lot.” A lot of commotion, a lot of sound, a lot of feelings drifting and mixing in the air and finding their way to me.

Hopefully I didn’t make it too much worse, bursting in like that. Across the booth there were chairs, sturdy looking but not appearing too heavy for even me to move. I sat up, glancing between them and the chair. “Want me to block the door?”

I wasn’t sure I wanted to have to deal with anyone else right now either. At least Silver seemed content for each of us to keep mostly to ourselves.

They did something with their hands and nodded, sign language maybe? Then they sighed and added in a whisper, “please.”

I got up and reached for the nearest chair, face illuminated with the blue-white light of one of the monitors showing a muted video of a grouse calling in a prairie. Would there be a prairie in the arena? I shook the thought from my head as I lifted the chair and propped it against the door. I hovered my hands just beside it a moment as I let go. If it fell and crashed that would be the last thing Silver needed, but it held steady. Good. I sat back in the corner, leaning back and letting my eyes wander up to the dark ceiling.

If only I’d figured out this little booth existed earlier, maybe then the week wouldn’t have gone by in such a blur. I hadn’t had a chance to think about what I might be doing tonight to try and prove myself a competitor, or I would even bother. I wasn’t particularly good at any of the stations I’d tried, and if not for Triel’s plan I wouldn’t have any reason to hope that anything would work out.

I hadn’t seen Silver around before now much, had anyone told them? I sat up a little, turning towards them. “Has anyone told you there might be an escape plan?” Maybe I should have eased into it. What if they were the type to tell the wrong people? I’d just have to trust them.

They nodded, shifting a little as they visibly relaxed now that another interruption was unlikely. “Triel. Admit I’m still skeptical, but,” they shrugged, “rather try than die-“ they broke off, eyebrows furrowed for a moment before shaking their head.

“Me too.” Even if Triel lied, or if it didn’t work, the potential to survive was better than nothing. I sighed, shoulders sloping as I leaned harder into the corner, tucking my legs in. “I don’t want to get too hopeful, but it’s more a plan that I have.”

“Hope’s better than nothing. Least, that’s what Calla says.”

I curled up further, drawing my knees up to my chest and resting my arms on top. “Yeah, I guess that’s all we really have right now isn’t it?” Especially in a couple days, when we were sent in with nothing and told to kill each other. Nothing but hope, potentially misguided, but hope that maybe it wouldn’t be the end. That something would work out.

But how? Even now my head felt fuzzy, eyelids growing heavy. The games hadn’t even started and I was already teetering between tired and exhausted at any given time, already probably lost weight forgetting the last time I ate between overwhelm and focus. How would, how could I make in the arena when this was already as hard as it was? Even if I did make it, survive, would I just be a threat to everyone else?

Silver slumped a little, biting at their lip. “Maybe we could…” They shut their eyes, voice trailing quieter and quieter, “eachotherto…help. Too.”

“I…” Could I? What could I do to help? “I don’t know how much help I’ll be, but I’ll try.” I didn’t think I could protect anyone, from myself or otherwise.

“You… Make things quieter. Already helping.” They smiled, cautiously holding out a friendly hand. “And I can… Help you. Or try. Ifyou… Want.”

I swallowed against the vice closing my throat and the tears burning just behind my eyes. I was? I was helping? If only they knew what I was thinking, what I almost thought to do when I stepped in and saw them here. If only they knew what I was running from in the first place, what I could do to people. What I…

But I hadn’t. I hadn’t done anything, not this time.

Maybe I shouldn’t be surprised, that I was helping, that they trusted me. Everyone at home, they knew what I was, saw what I’d done and still trusted me. Still cared for me. Maybe it wasn’t so impossible I was still the same man they loved, the same one they’d all come and see off, the same one Ginger and Cirrus would drop everything just to stay here with. They all knew I was never what Vena wanted me to be, they all knew who and what I was and they stood by me and knew I would give whatever I could for any of them.

Maybe it wasn’t crazy to think I was still the same Asher even here, even now.

I took their hand with a long, unsteady breath. “I... Thank you, Silver.” They trusted me. For better or worse they trusted me.

Their smile widened, teeth just a little too sharp in the low light from the monitors. “I’m not… thebestwith… words. But yeah. Goodto notbe… alone.”

I returned the smile. “It is. Hopefully we run into each other again.” It was good to know there be a familiar face.

“Canstay here.” They nodded, sitting back. “’Till they dragusout least?”

That sounded like a very good idea. I leaned back, yawning and letting my eyes slide closed. In the muffling quiet of the booth the low, barely audible hum of the monitor filled the still air, soft and lulling. My head drifted, leaning against the soft sound-insulating wall as heaviness tugged at my eyes and body. It was peaceful, the quiet and knowing there was someone else sitting here with me. Nice to find someone who didn’t mind the quiet, someone a little less intense than some of the other tributes, friendly as they were.

I didn’t notice falling asleep until a trainer nudged me with his foot, the same one who’d rushed me out of the pool the other day. Silver must have gone sometime before, missing from the booth and the chair displaced as the trainer hauled me up and walked me back to the elevator, cursing under his breath but otherwise indifferent.

“Don’t sleep through your assessment.” He crossed his arms as he waited for the elevator with me. “They’ll send someone when it’s your turn. Shouldn’t be long since you’re from district one.”

I nodded, yawning and trying to shake myself awake. “Do you have any suggestions?” I glanced at him. “For what I should do?”

The trainer frowned. “You know, no one’s ever asked me that.” He thought for a moment, then shrugged. “Not swimming that’s for sure. I doubt anyone’s going to be impressed if you know some birdsong either.” He scrunched his face, tilting his head. “You know, I bet if you tried something flashy even if it wasn’t actually that useful they’d buy it. You know how it is.”

Maybe if I manage to make the lights flicker or something they’d think it was impressive. “I’ll keep that in mind, thanks.”

The elevator doors opened and he nodded towards it. “Well, good luck out there.”

#whg 20 #Asher Sang #Silver #Hugo #Stole him because I thought it would be funny in the scene #hopefully that's okay!

5 notes · View notes

ace-angel-judas · 6 months

Note

More Shadow and Bone Yoongi and Estelle 🥺

Never ending night.

That much was true about the dark lands. When she lived in the sun court, you could see the looming darkness from the palace towers.

But it was beautiful in a sense, the stars twinkled against the black sky. Estelle sat on a white garden bench, the book in her hands long discarded.

“So, it’s true then,”

A voice made her jump, it was thick with an accent. The woman that approached had bright red hair, making Estelle stared at her.

“I had no idea there was an inferni here,” Estelle spoke.

“Oh, I’m not inferni, your looking for my other half,” She laughed softly, “My name is Kyra, I am a heartrender,”

“I..I’ve never met a heartrender,” Estelle stood up, “Is it true you can stop a persons heart?”

“Is it true you can shine as bright as the sun?” Kyra laughed softly and linked their arms together, “A heartrender is more than stopping hearts, we can provide warm, calm children, there’s a lot we can do,”

Estelle sighed, “We’re only taught to be weapons at the Sun court,”

“I suppose that’s why your here, you didn’t want to be a weapon,”

They walked back to the palace. It was dark, made of a black stone that Estelle wasn’t familiar with. The lights around the place were a soft blue flame.

Yoongi stood in the main foyer, Estelle stopped slightly. She’d only seen him during meal times, where they ate in silence.

He was stood with another red haired male, who wore a black uniform with a stitched red design on it.

“The sun summoner!” He announced, “Well, you definitely look like one,”

Estelle blinked before Yoongi hissed.

“Leave her be,”

Kyra laughed softly while the man chuckled.

“Hoseok,” He introduced himself, “Inferni,”

“It’s lovely to meet you,” Estelle curtsied gently.

“Very formal,” Hoseok nudged the Darkling, “Cute,”

“I believe you have a ball to attend,” Yoongi huffed, “Princess Arabella’s birthday,”

Kyra stepped away from Estelle, linking arms with Hoseok.

“Shame your not coming, Yoongi,” Kyra teased.

“Are you not going?” Estelle asked, “I’ll be fine here,”

Yoongi looked between the couple and Estelle.

“Balls aren’t my thing,” Yoongi spoke, “I much prefer your company,”

0 notes

lovesickjily · 5 years

Note

okay but the world needs to know. how are you the best?

omg what that’s you

#kyra is the sun to my shine #ask #<3

5 notes · View notes

salemsocsandstuff · 2 years

Text

arrowverse - masterlist

ELISE PRETT

face claim - jessica henwick

series - arrow

paired with - roy harper

fic - tell me you love me

EMILIE HENSEN

face claim - amiee garcia

series - the flash

paired with - barry allen

fic - what you do to me

VERONICA ENGLAND aka GHOST

face claim - krysten ritter

series - arrow

paired with - oliver queen

fic - all thats left is fire and ash

HEATHER FOLEY

face claim - rose mciver

series - supergirl

paired with - alex danvers

fic - time comes around

CHRISTINE RUSSELL

face claim - ana de armas

series - arrow

paired with - oliver queen

fic - put her love down

MARLENE HASPEL

face claim - emily vancamp

series - arrow

paired with - oliver queen

fic - we tried the world (it wasn't for us)

ALYONA HASS

face claim - lesley-ann brandt

series - legends

paired with - sara lance

fic - high as heaven

CELINE RINGEL

face claim - nadia hilker

series - arrow

paired with - oliver queen

fic - outside this city

ANTONIA REYNOLDS aka SPLIT

face claim - inbar lavi

series - flash

paired with - cisco ramon

fic - my hearts newest sin

JASMIN WURST

face claim - priyanka chopra

series - supergirl

paired with - lena luther

fic - the song my heart doth sing

RENEE MALDONADO

face claim - poppy drayton

series - supergirl

paired with - kara danvers

fic - paving our way

CYRYSTAL DANVERS

face claim - elizabeth lail

series - supergirl

paired with - winn schott

fic - the light in your wake

ELIZABETH TRAN

face claim - victoria pedretti

series - supergirl

paired with - winn schott

fic - brighter than the fire. hotter than the sun.

ANGELINA BRUNNER

face claim - jenna coleman

series - legends

paired with - john constantine

fic - be still my foolish heart

HANNA SCHMUCK

face claim - karen gillian

series - legends

paired with - ray palmer

fic - its not the waking

MIA HAPPEL

face claim - penelope mitchell

series - flash

paired with - frost + cisco ramon

fic - behind my color blindness

REBECCA KRESS aka DECAY

face claim - lana candor

series - flash

paired with - cisco ramon

fic - call me in the silence (and make it silence no more)

MELISSA CELLA

face claim - mila kunis

series - legends

paired with - nate haywood

fic - not ready

LANA KENDAL

face claim - lydnsy fonseca

series - arrow

paired with - oliver queen

fic - bent and broken

CAROLINE WHITE aka ECLIPSE

face claim - lucy boynton

series - flash

paired with - barry allen

fic - girl of roses

KYRA DANVERS

face claim - virginia gardner

series - supergirl

paired with - barry allen

fic - shining diamond

11 notes · View notes

hacked-by-jake · 3 years

Text

Hey Ho! :D

You will always find this post in my blog description.🥰

(Well, since there’s not really much information about me, here’s a post of things you’ve been interested in and some facts about me.)

(Thanks to the Anon for the motivation to do this here! <3)

-----

So, Hi! You can call me HBJ! I don’t want to mention my real name and age here. 😁

I started publishing my fanfictions here on Tumblr a little over a year ago and haven’t left since. xD

My mother tongue is not English, I am from Germany. So if you find some mistakes, please excuse it, I’m doing my best and still learning. <3

I honestly have no idea what to write here so, have fun, if anyone reads through this here. 😂 At least that’s a little bit of me. :D

>The Ask Box is always open. So feel free to ask a question if you are interested (but I want to warn you, I am not answering everything, but I will let you know in this case) < <3

-------------------------------------------

Let's start! ❤️🌹🎭

-------------------------------------------

First of all 10 Random Facts about me. This was asked by an anon. Here is the original post.

I’m a giant nerd, there’s no place in my room that’s not full of merchandise.

I prefer to read stories that are self-published, for example here on Tumblr or on other sites, rather than real books.

I have a problem with jackets, I have tons of them.

I usually dye my hair according to the colors of characters I like.It all started with green/purple - because of the Joker. And the last color I have at the moment is all green because of Joker / Loki from Marvel (Oups)

Almost all tattoos I have are about fictional characters (also Oups)

No one, really nobody knows what books/stories I read because that’s something very private to me.

I listen to music 24 hours a day, 7 days a week.

Also, it’s hard for me / I don’t like to talk about the music I listen to because this is very intimate for me for some reason.

When I watch a series, it’s at least 2 times behind each other, sometimes more often. But never just once.

Films that I watch for the first time and that excite me, I watch every second that I have time. When the movie is over, I start again unless there are several parts. But then I always watch my favorite one 500 times.

-----

Random questions from you.

(Asked by @procrastinatingrobin) -One place that you'd like to travel at least once in your life?

---- One of my biggest wishes is (what a cliché xD) New York. For example the “Joker Stairs”, which is one of my biggest dreams. *-*

I would love to travel to a lot of locations from my favorite movies/series.🤭

America in general is a dream for me (a German potato 😂😅).

But there are so many beautiful places to which I want to go. For example, I would love to travel to Tenerife. I know someone who lives there and every time I see pictures I get very jealous. xD

Unfortunately, I’m incredibly afraid of flying, so if that doesn’t improve, I’ll never get anywhere near these places.😫😂😂

---

(Asked by Anon) How many tattoos do you have?😄

I love tattoo questions. 😂🤭At the moment I have eleven tattoos🥰

---

(Asked by Anon) -What's your favorite animal?

Hmmm I don’t really know, I think they are dogs because I have a dog now. *-* But to be honest, turtles are so cool.🤔 My brother has a turtle named: Schiggy (based on Pokémon)🤭

---

(Asked by Anon) -The stupidest thing that ever happened to you?

Ohhh hahaha there I have something good!😅Story Time with Hbj xD

Okay: As some might know, I’m a big fan of The Joker by DC.🃏Well, in 2019, the Joker movie with Joaquin Phoenix came to the cinemas and I was at the cinema premiere with my best friend. And the movie was absolutely amazing. I really wanted to watch the movie again..Aaaaand I was lucky because my best friend’s boyfriend also wanted to see the movie in the cinema so I went back to the cinema 5 days later to watch the movie again. I was so excited and so extremely happy that I trembled and could not stand still. xD And for these two reasons, I accidentally dropped my not really old phone. It just fell straight down on the stones in front of the cinema and the display was completely broken..Well, what can I say? I needed a new one.. 😂😅But the movie was still fantastic!😍🤭This is actually one of the stupidest things that ever happened to me. xD

---

(Asked by @kyras-things) What are the little things that make your day happiest?

Oh that’s a really nice question! *-*Well, I have really little things that can make me happy. :)-It is enough for me when I wake up tomorrow and see my merchandise shelf😅 (This is right in front of my bed)This is for most something really small but for me really great and makes me happy. <3Other things are music, stroking my dog, messages on my phone, my hair color, my tattoos, when the sun is shining in the morning, coffee, riding longboard and of course (yes this is my absolute serious and not only so therefore said) tumblr and thus at the same time Duskwood. 💕I think these are the most important things. 🤭All I need is to see something that matters to me.😅🥰

---

(Asked by @leetjep) Seriously....Do you ever sleep?

Very rarely😂 Last time I slept was in fall.😂

---

(Asked by Anon) Ios or android?

Only related to the phone: Android.Yes, I stand by it!😂

---

(Asked by @booklover-01040) Hello!I was wondering have you got any paranormal or creepy experiences? If no, then a nightmare that you will never forget.

Hey Ho! In fact, I haven’t experienced any paranormal things. Which is probably also because I don’t believe in that and I’ve found a rational cause for everything so far. (Important: I don’t believe in it, but I don’t say it doesn’t exist, I don’t want anyone to feel attacked)

And a nightmare I’ll never forget? In fact, I can’t think of any one. There’s a dream I’ve have since I was a kid: It’s about two little wolves trying to eat me. xD And I can even tell where that came from.

The movie to blame for this is: Twilight xD

Yep… When I first watched this movie, I was way too young, and as a child I was always very anxious. Just such things and horror movies in general were terrible for me (today it is actually no longer so) (Even the dream is no longer bad today and yet it has a bitter aftertaste of childhood.)

In any case, I was much too young and that did not let me go back then. xD But a really unsettling dream I had was: Well.. Do you know the Pink Panther? 😂

I once dreamed that the Panther “chased” me through an endless long corridor. It was an endless corridor in pink with countless doors. He sang the theme song and threw clocks at me…😅 And that went on all night until I woke up.

(This, by the way, had a trigger too. A German song (the rapper only took the melody of the title music and wrote his own lyrics. The text isn’t really cool though and that’s the reason)

----

(Asked by @dreamer-writer-fangirl) What color is your hair?

Well, at the moment my hair is green🤭

Check HERE and HERE for pictures.

----

(Asked by Anon) Is your brother younger or older than you?🤗

My brother is older than me.🥰

----

(Asked by Anon) Do you have a nickname?

Yes, actually I have one. I can even say it because it has nothing to do with my real name. :D But please don’t laugh at me. 😂Well, I have the loving nickname: Little Onion. yep…My mom gave me that name for some reasons. 😂

----

(Asked by Anon) some information about your dancing?😄 you mentioned it a few days ago💃

Yeah, well, I danced for 13 years, in different groups, also several groups at the same time. :D It was the hip hop/breakdance direction. But at some point I stopped because I didn’t enjoy it in the groups anymore and time was getting tighter. :/ Unfortunately, there was and is no real other groups here, which is why I stopped completely and now only dance for myself and just for fun.🤭

(Asked by Anon) What's your favourite food ?

Uhhhm, I think everything with pasta is my favorite food.😂 I can eat noodles all day. 🤭🍝🍜Well, and of course, Pizza!🍕Pizza is adorable. 😂

----

(Asked by Anon) What type of video games do you like to play?

I don’t really have a favorite type / genre, I don’t play video games that often. I’m actually playing what looks exciting to me without any particular genre or type. 😁🤭

But if I do, I guess I’m the most Nintendo type. So most of the games I play are related to Nintendo. <3

(Asked by @mirajane01040-duskwoodmemes) Do you play... Minecraft?

I used to play a lot of Minecraft, but nowadays not so much, and if so, then only the mobile version. This is fun for in between and dispels the boredom. I even started building Duskwood several times, but never finished it. xD Well, yes, sometimes I play Minecraft.

Answer a few days later: Yes, I do!

---

(Asked by Anon) If you could be a fictional character, who would it be and why?

Oh, there are a few. xDBut the three main characters for me: Evey Hammond because of V for Vendetta. Harley Quinn because of The Joker. And, of course, my MC because of Jake. 🤭I know, very superficial reasons but I hope they are enough for you, because these are the main reasons xD 😅🤭

---

(Asked by Anon) Hey hbj i'm curiousFamily or a career? 😋

I choose the career.🤭 After that, there is still enough time, and who says that not both work?😉

---

(Asked by Anon) do you like alcohol?🍷

No, absolutely no. Not a little bit.

---

(Asked by Anon) What is your favorite drink?

If I don’t drink coffee, I only drink sparkling water, my entire life. I very rarely drink something different. Water for life! 🧊

---------------------

Either/or questions from you.

(Asked by @duskwood-legacies) -What would you rather see, Northern Lights or sky lanterns?

That’s easy for me🤭 Northern Lights! If you ask me.. that is magical! *-* (Well, unless it’s like “Tangled” and I get a Flynn Rider.. then sky lanterns xD)

---

(Asked by @duskwood-legacies) -Strawberries or raspberries?

Definitely: Strawberries🍓 *-*

---

(Asked by@duskwood-legacies) Do you prefer angst or fluff?

I think it depends on the general mood I’m in.🤔 I think the best is angst with happy ending.😁

---

(Asked by@duskwood-legacies) Milk or cereal first?

Obviously: Cereal first! 😂🥣

---

(Asked by @justubi) Would you rather have a nosy neighbor pr noisy neighbor?

Unfortunately, I have both. xD But if I could choose, I would opt for the noisy neighbor as I wear headphones all day anyway.😂

---

(Asked by @justubi) Would you rather be poor but love your job or rich but absolutely hate your job?

One hundred percent and without having to think about: poor and love my job!I could never have a job I don’t like. This is a real horror imagination for me😂

---

(Asked by @kyras-things ) Prefer to write fanfics or read them?

Oh that’s a really hard question for me! 🤔 I can’t really make up my mind, but I think I’d rather read than write myself. With stories of others I can better dive into another world and relax. 🤭Because when I write, five hundred other thoughts always fly around in my head and I have to decide how to write something etc.I love writing but sometimes I wish I only had to think about a story and it would be written on a sheet right away. xD <3

---

(Asked by @leetjep) Would you rather have one eye in the middle of your head or two noses?

I take the eye in the middle of my head. 😂Then I would make the Jake eye as a tattoo around it, which would be really cool.🤭

---

(Continues on new asks)

#It's me :)#personal #hbj talks #about me #have fun lol

21 notes · View notes

medicallyinevitable · 3 years

Text

Medically Inevitable

Chapter 15:- Hopeful Happenings

Characters:- Arielle Valentine, Ethan Ramsey, Ines Delarosa, Kyra Santana

Pairing:- Ethan Ramsey x Arielle Valentine

Warnings:- Slight mentions of cancer

Word Count:- 1700+ words :)

General PoV:-

As the sun shines bright in the late morning, Arielle parks her car and heads straight towards Edenbrook’s locker room, a to-go cup in hand from Starbucks instead of Derry Roasters not wanting any chance to bump into Dr. Ramsey, despite knowing that he’s her boss. Making her way to the nurses’ station, she picks up her charts and textbooks and heads toward the cafeteria.

Arielle’s PoV:-

You keep at your textbooks, scouring the pages for anything that could explain Nigel's symptoms, and the tidal wave of self-doubt doesn’t help either. You let out a sigh, "Maybe Dr. Ramsey's right. Maybe I really don't belong here..."

"Mind if I join you?" A cheery voice snaps you back to reality.

You turn around to find Kyra. Dread fills in you as you see her. "Kyra, what are you doing here? Is your cancer back? Is something wrong?", you start asking.

"Woah! Dial down the doom and gloom there, Dr. Sob Emoji. I'm in remission." Kyra beams.

"What?! Oh my god congratulations! I’m so happy for you!" You envelope her in a warm hug which almost melts all your tension away.

"Just had another check-up. Will be coming a lot for those," she catches you up with her remission plan as you two sit. "No offense but I definitely look in better shape than you!"

"Ugh I know. I'm exhausted.” And just like that, all the tension fills your mind as you give her the details. " My shift ended like five hours ago, but instead of going home I am sitting here and reading till my eyes bleed."

"You should probably get that looked at." Kyra's face morphs into something serious but genuine as she continues.

"Look, I don't want to be that cancer survivor… but it did make me realize that life is too short." You give her a sad smile knowing how painful it must have been for her.

"We only get so many chances you know? But maybe you need that lesson more than I do," she continues after pausing for a moment.

"Is it that obvious?" You raise your brows.

"Let's chalk it up to my incredible intuition." Kyra smiles," Anyways there's an amazing ice cream shop nearby. They make an triple chocolate gelato that's literally to die for," she jokes, " You can take my word for that." "Why don't we visit that place? It'll give you a distraction and a much needed break."

You look at her and then your textbooks, not understanding what to do. All you can see is blurry lines. the words and concepts swim around in your very exhausted brain. You close the textbook with a slam after your answer is crystal clear.

"How can I say no to chocolate gelato!", you say dramatically.

"That's more like it!", Kyra beams. The two of you collect your belongings and make your way out as you tell Kyra everything about the dilemma with your latest patient.

"This place is pretty cute.", you say as you look around.

"Try nauseatingly adorable. I want to make it tiny and keep it in my bookshelf," Kyra replies. You laugh.

"You collect tiny shops?" You ask as the two of you made your way to the counter.

"I collect many sickeningly adorable things," she laughs before turning her attention to the boy behind the counter. "I’ll have the large Death by Chocolate please. And my absurdly attractive friend here will have…”, she nods for you to continue.

You roll your eyes at her before placing your order. You take a look at their menu before deciding to have the same one as Kyra as it's the most chocolatey one.

“I'll have the same.", you smile at the server.

The server scoops your gelato into two big cups and slides them across the counter while Kyra rummages through her bag for her wallet.

"I'll pay.“, you say getting your card out.

"No way!", she stops you by swiftly taking your card from you. You whine but to your dismay she doesn’t budge.

"This was my idea. Besides I didn't get out much during recovery. I've got months of dining-out budget to blow."

The next minute she's handing the cash to the server and then guiding you to a booth. As you two take your seats, Kyra hands you your card.

She takes a spoon full of her Death by Chocolate and sighs blissfully.

“Mmmmmm…”

You smile at her antics. "That good?" You ask before taking a bite.

"Orgasmic. I never used to eat junk food before my diagnosis."

She takes another bite and you take your first. You can't help but let out a moan as the chocolatey silkiness melts on your tongue. Kyra smirks and gives you a smug look.

She then continues, "I was super into exercising and calorie counting. I never did anything I wasn't supposed to." She smiles sadly. "And I still got lung cancer. At my twenties!"

"You must have been so strong!", you reply.

"Everyone keeps saying that but-", she pauses, "I don't know. I just went to the doctor to see why I was breathing weird."

She sighs. "Then suddenly I was going for all these tests, and then I had cancer."

She laughs humorlessly. "Life went from jogging and juice every morning to chemo and puking."

You can almost feel the pain as she speaks about her experiences even when you’re aware you’ll never truly understand.

"But I didn't do anything," she says, " Those things had to happen , and I had good insurance, so I did them. And it's not like I had any alternative."

"I think you should give yourself more credit.”, you reach for her hand and squeeze it in a comforting manner.

"You faced death with a smile on your face. I'll always remember you cracking jokes on the way to surgery-", you stop for a second before adding,"You are the strongest person I know Kyra."

Kyra blushes, a little embarrassed. "Well you can laugh or you can cry and I chose to laugh.”, she shrugs with a smile on her face.

"And like I said, I don't want to be that cancer survivor but it does put certain things into perspective."

"That kind of clarity must be nice.", you reply.

"Well yeah, you have to get some kind of consolation price for nearly dying, right?" She then shakes her head.

”But enough about that. If we keep talking about this you'll always see me as a girl who beat cancer."

"I'll never, Kyra." you say truthfully. "That's not how I see you."

"Oh yeah? And how do you exactly see me?" She asks playfully.

"I think you are inspiring."

A blush creeps on her face as she’s caught off guard, but quickly retaliates with a sassy reply. “If you keep giving me compliments then I’ll never let you hear the end of it.”

“We’ll see about that.” You both dissolve into fits of laughter as Kyra fills you up on the hospital gossip...

“What wait?! Seriously?! I can’t believe it!”

“Me either, but you know how gossip is!”, she replies with a shrug.

Just then your phone chimes. You pull it out to see it’s a reminder for your shift.

“Crap, I have 10 minutes till my shift.”

“Oof, you better hurry!”, she replies.

“We should do this again, this was really nice.”, you say as you gather your things.

“We should! Besides there would have to be 12 different things wrong with someone to turn down Gelato!”, she jokes.

“..12 different things wrong….. oh my god, Kyra, you’re a genius!”

You scramble to your feet and quickly throw away your cup.

“I like to think I am but what did I do?”, she asks.

“I’ll explain later!”, you yell.

“Ookay…” You rush back to the hospital, typing out a message on your pager as Kyra sits there in utter confusion.

“Well I guess I could get another scoop of gelato…”

————————————————————

An hour later, you take a deep breath before entering Nigel's room to find Ethan and Ines already inside.

“Well what are you waiting for?”, Dr. Ramsey says. Pushing back all of your invading memories of him, you continue with your explanation.

"I spent the last two days trying to figure out the one thing causing all of Mr.Platt's symptoms.”, you say as you stand beside Nigel's bedside.

"And?", he asks. For a split second, you can see a slight look of hope in his eyes, but it passes as quickly as it came, leaving you to believe it was a mere delusion of yours.

"That's when I realized nothing was causing all of them-" But before you can continue, you’re interrupted by Nigel.

"Are you calling-", he burps, “me a liar?", he asks, rude as always.

You control the urge to roll your eyes. He could've at least let you finish your sentence.

Ignoring him, you continue what you were saying," Mr.Platt has been experiencing tingling and hair loss but also cold sensitivity and some hearing problems." You pause for a second before continuing,"All of which point to hypothyroidism caused by Hashimoto's disease easily treated with levothyroxine."

"Go on." Ethan orders in his usual cold bossy tone.

"I couldn't fit in the constant burping and the chest pain… because it was completely separate." You explain. "I ordered a barium swallow X-ray and detected a hiatal hernia in the esophageal hole through the diaphragm."

"The treatment?", he asks, motioning you to continue.

"I have already booked a laparoscopic surgery to repair it.”, you answer with a touch of pride.

"Good work Dr.Valentine." Ines smiles at you.” You return it with a nod and a tentative smile.

"So ... I'll be cured?" Nigel asks.

"Yes-“, you calm yourself down before you rip him apart and then continue.

"You'll be good as new." you say instead with a forced smile.

"Good... because I don't want to spend a -" he burps, " second more in your hopeless company."

Your blood boils at this point as you bite your lip to control yourself. “The audacity! Ugh, he's a patient, Arielle. You have to be nice to him.”

"Mr. Platt, might suggest viewing this as a new lease on life. Perhaps a life where you don't make everyone around you miserable.”, Ethan's stern voice retorts, shocking you and Ines.

“No way...he did not!”

"Dr. Ramsey!" Ines exclaims with a shocked expression on her face, which you’re quite sure your face resembles.

"I'll report you! I want to talk to your manager," he says more angrily than before.

"Go ahead," Ethan says with a sarcastic smile." Maybe she can't talk to you like this but I sure as hell can."

You look at Nigel who looks like he's about to say something but just then Bryce struts in. He winks at you playfully as he passes you.

"Someone called for a laparoscopic surgery?"

"Oh great, first Barbie and now the damn Ken doll!” You don’t even attempt to hide the disgust on your face as you roll your eyes.

By the time you’ve finished your consultation with Bryce, Ines and Ethan have already left the room. Pleased with yourself, you take a left in the hallway without noticing Ethan standing leaning against the wall.

"Rookie..." His velvety baritone voice calls out, pulling you out of a haze.

Wincing, you stop dead in your tracks as the memories of the previous day replay in your mind. Still embarrassed with your encounter, you turn around but never meet his eyes. You’re sure you look like a kid, standing before him with your feet crossed, one hand fiddling with your hair as you bite your lip.

"So, you figured it out in the end. And you kept things professional.”, he nods, barely visible.

"I guess I just needed a… push.”, you reply in a timid voice laced with embarrassment.

"Maybe you aren’t so hopeless then.", he says.

Unlike yesterday, his voice isn’t filled with disappointment and malice.

So mustering up some courage, you look up to meet his eyes. Relief washes over you as you don’t detect a hint of disappointment in his eyes. He isn’t smiling but something in you tells you he isn’t angry. You don’t realise you’ve been staring into his oh-so blue eyes until his pager beeps, shaking you out of your reverie.

“..Uh- I’ll see you around, Dr. Ramsey.” You can almost swear that you see longing etched into his chiseled features as you lose yourself in his eyes once more.

“Likewise, Valentine.” With that, he turns around and stalks away.

You sigh and lean against the wall, the events since you started your residency swirl around like a hurricane filled with memories.

“What the hell am I supposed to do now?”

******************************************

And this concludes Season 1 of Medically Inevitable!

Authors’ Note:- Hey everyone, hope y’all enjoyed this chapter! As you’ve probably seen before, this is the last chapter of Season 1! Season 2 will be out soon, as soon as we work out the kinks and pump out a few chapters with different moodboards and title themes! Season 2 will be much more eventful, more drama, angst and shocking cliffhangers mixed in with the string of festivities that Thanksgiving and Christmas bring! Stay tuned and check our blogs and Instagram’s (same handle) for more updates! And lastly thank y’all so much for all the support, we are extremely grateful.

Love,

@drariellevalentine & @mysticaurathings

#ethan ramsey #ethan x mc #open heart fanfic #ethanjonahramsey #playchoices #open heart #medically inevitable #ethan jonah ramsey #ines delarosa #harper emery #modern au #thank you for the support

48 notes · View notes

salty-wench · 3 years

Text

First Line Game

Thanks for tagging me @littlerockerao3 and @owlsinathens (who I’ve mostly added the first entry because it’s the one I’ve kept saying I’m going to write for the past year). Some are cheekily more than one sentence because the first 1-3 work together.

Rules: 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 of your favorite authors.

1. Unposted WIP (aka The One Where Robb is Dead) - Greysnow, Modern AU

Life is a funny thing. You can be as careful as you want, sensible in everything that you do, live up to both your family’s and society’s expectations and, putting it bluntly, wind up in Robb Stark’s position. That is to say, dead.

2. Hesitance - Jeyne P/Jon, Regency AU

“I do wish you would allow Shae to do something a little more elaborate with your hair, Jeyne,” says Sansa from the chair at the dressing table while the pretty lady’s maid secures her thick auburn hair in the style she has opted for with pins.

3. A Gentleman's Prerogative - Throbb, Regency AU

Theon is woken by a brash affront to the senses, vaguely aware of doors opening right before curtains are drawn sharply on their rails with a scrape.

4. Love Needs No Holidays - Throbb & Jonerys, Modern AU

Jon rubs at his temple under the misguided assumption that a little massage might do anything to dissuade the headache he’s fighting from becoming a fully-fledged migraine.

5. From the Ashes - Greysnow, Dystopia AU

As dusk settles, Jon knows that at least a portion of the rumours are founded in reality. Winterfell shines like a beacon on the horizon.

6. sweet just like frustration - Throbb, Modern AU

Theon had watched him with wry amusement when he’d broken things off. Or tried to break things off at least.

7. Don't @ me - Greysnow, Modern AU

“What are you doing?” Alys' voice distracts him from continuing to stare at the tweet while he decides how he’s going to react.

8. Take my hand, we'll dive into the sea - Theon/Wynafryd, Canonverse

“You don’t have to do this,” Theon tells her, turning from watching the waves roll in.

9. Driven Mad - Greysnow, Modern AU

“That him?” Kyra asks him, peeking through the blinds and out of the kitchen window, letting in blinding sunlight in the process.

10. all i want is more - Throbb, Modern AU, sequel to sweet just like frustration

Robb has sworn to himself that he’s going to call it off. He needs to call it off. His life with Ami is fine, it’s safe.

11. The sweetest time - Theon/Kyra, Modern AU

“Ky.”

12. Above the best- Theon/Patrek aka Patheon, Post Canon

Theon stirs to the press of lips, warm and soft, against the nape of his neck.

13. Being Friendly - Throbb & Patheon, Modern AU

Robb is not the type to be overcome by urges to rearrange rooms and yet here he is, in the middle of the night, surrounded by the boxes he’s pulled out from under the bed and cramped in by the other furniture while he attempts to pull the heavy bed frame across the room single handedly.

14. Must be something in the atmosphere - Greysnow, Modern AU, Teachers

“Are you kidding me?” Jon asks, squinting a little in the early morning winter sun.

15. Unprecedented - Greysnow, Modern AU, lockdown fic

In the few days since Theon began working from home he has developed a well-working routine.

16. The one with the dog - Throbb, Modern AU

Drowned God, he’s good, Theon thinks as he’s backed up towards Robb’s bedroom with his new acquaintance’s mouth at his collar.

17. Soul, I hear you calling - Throbb, 80s AU

He can hear them as soon as he nears the street corner. Robb’s laughter rings out amongst the others, but of course it does, it's always called out to him like a siren.

18. Hold on to your heart - Throbb, Canon Era

He can still hear the deep rumble of the chuckle that had escaped Theon the moment they were alone earlier that afternoon even now, as he sits in the hall of Winterfell surrounded by bannermen all at least twice his age.

19. Guaranteed to blow your mind - Throbb, Modern/The Wedding Date AU

He’s got to be mad. A stark - ha ha - raving lunatic.

20. Belated Realisations - Greysnow, Modern AU

Theon scanned himself in the full-length antique mirror.

My conclusion is that there are no real patterns and I need to improve on the first line front. Also, I have a terrible sense of humour.

Tagging @rainhalydia, @evax3, @jeynepoole, @fineosaur, @selkiewife, @estrangedandwayward, @florentium, @northernfieldsforever, @attaining-fic, @st-clements-steps

#throbb #greysnow #Theon Greyjoy #my fics

15 notes · View notes

othertmrkids · 3 years

Text

जान | ovi&kyra saxena

“You missed dinner with us this past weekend…” Kyra Saxena-Johar’s tone wasn’t accusatory, rather curious as she brushed her fingers through her oldest’s hair. Ovi, despite his 38 years of age, rested his head easily against his mother’s lap and chuckled lightly, unable to keep the smile off his lips due to his answer of, “I was with Tahir.”

Expecting as much, Kyra bit back her own smile, having gained her intel about the situation from another one of her children rather than Ovi himself. “Doing what that was so important, hm?” She teased in a manner that her son recognized immediately, pulling a greater smile out of him. “Seeing the Eiffel Tower,” he said with the shine of the sun in his voice to recount his own memories. “He brought me there in the evening for my birthday after an entire day of showing me around his city-”

“He lives in Paris?” Kyra perked up, hand stilling against Ovi’s smooth locks.

“He lives in Paris,” Ovi looked smug, proud of each and every part of the man who had won him over so.

“Bring me, na? Your baba always said we would take a vacation to Paris but he was so obsessed with the beach that we never got to it.”

Ovi could only laugh softly at his mother’s never-ending wonder of the world. “Alright, I’ll bring you some time when Tahi and I are a little more serious.”

Kyra frowned. “You’re not serious?”

“I- no, mama, you misunderstand,” Ovi clicked his teeth, quick to prop himself up onto his elbow, looking up at his mother with furrowed brows. “I meant when we’ve spent a little more time together, just us, learning to be us before we explore other parts of our lives together. That’s all.”

“Your lives together, hm?”

Ovi’s cheeks reddened.

“So you are serious,” Kyra probed, her gaze unrelenting on her son, who was now sinking back to lay against her lap once more. Letting a breath pass his lips, licked in a matter of self-assurance, Ovi’s rippling brown eyes met his mother’s with an answer to seal any doubt in her mind; “I love him, mama.”

Kyra burst into a grin that she could contain just as much as her son could in his own moments of pure joy. She opened her mouth a time or two so she could ask questions or possibly confirm how fit this man was for her boy, but she closed it again repeatedly, anticipating her astute child’s answer each time.

“He’s sharp as you and warm as baba,” Ovi smiled to reassure the parts of his mother that he didn’t even know needed so. And Kyra in turn leaned in to press her lips to his forehead, the corners of her eyes crinkling in happiness for the boy turned man she’d wanted only the best for his entire life long.

“Is he funny as Dev too?” Kyra teased as she drew back, already knowing the exasperated expression it would draw out of Ovi. “Yes, yes, he’s funny too, more tactfully than Dev, if I may say so-”

“You may not! When are you bringing this Tahir of yours home, hm?” Kyra huffed, her palm falling to Ovi’s chest where he wore the ring around his neck that her husband had once used to symbolize their love. “I want to make sure a sherwani will suit him-”

“Mama!” The redness in Ovi’s cheeks crept to his neck.

“What? You don’t want to marry him, talking like that?” Kyra raised a quick brow, never allowing her children a moment of slack.

Ovi’s lips remained parted for a moment even if he knew his answer clear as a summer day. And luckily for him, Kyra understood the expression better than any other in the world. She excitedly thumped her hand to his chest and insisted, “So it’s settled, he’ll come to Sunday dinner next week! Tell him I’ll be upset otherwise, cancelling isn’t an option.”

Holding back a roll of his eyes, Ovi smiled gradually instead. “He won’t cancel, he won’t even think about it.”

#the way this is not proofread bc it's 1:30am and I'm wine drunk W H E E Z E '#but I've had half of this written up in the drafts for MONTHS now since ovir came to life and toniht was the night my brain was like finish #it make the feels complete WHEEXE #so here this is gn #c: Ovi Saxena #c: Kyra Saxena Johar #drabble #my writing #do I have a Saxena family tag I'm-#WHERE'S MY I DON'T WRITE ENOUGH DRABBLES FOR MARY BC WE HASH OUT MOST PLOT POINTS OF OUR CHARS IN GREAT DETAIL TAG BYE #o: Tahir Cabanart #technically?? MENTIONS OF??? :CONNORLOVE:#there's no cute ending to this I trieed to think of one but the way if I didn't cut thisdrabble off they'd really just talk about Tahir all #night gn????? BYE I TRIED JUST HAVE THIS AND LOVE ME BYE #ovir

2 notes · View notes

whumping-every-day · 5 years

Text

Vampire Whump 8

Ash’s FC, Ash’s Picrew, Callum’s FC

Tagging the vampire gang, whose support has been so incredibly instrumental! My most heartfelt thanks to everyone who has helped me along this journey.

@wildfaewhump @pepperonyscience @robinshouseofwhump @angelsuperwholock @pennsss @silver-sparrow-462 @silverinkgoldenquill @kestrelsparverius @learningtowhump @latenightcupsofcoffee @thebluejayswhump @what-huh-imconfused @lostbetweenvampiresandmusic @pink-and-purple-flowers @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @whump-em @umniyah-s @adventuresofacreesty @scarheart @kyra-plays @lionhxartx @blue-flare10 @whumpywhumper @doityourselfbombs @pastry-case @maybeawhumpblog @httyd-chocolate @maqcyloup @yyyee-haw @to-hurt-and-comfort @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @manip-loki

Content Warnings! Joint/shoulder/knee stuff, questionable medical know-how, reluctant caretaking, painful healing, fear and obedience, needles, muzzles, brief mention of a vivisection.

Masterlist

“Rise and shine, sleeping beauty.”

The cell door rattles, and the vampire flinches awake. Terror floods its veins at the unfamiliar surroundings, the lack of restraints – the place it is in is cold, and cramped, and the creature hurts. It’s still lying beneath the cot, and it trembles as heavy footsteps approach. Something metal and leather is dropped in its line of vision, and the vampire cringes with a hitched little whimper.

The memories are returning, now. The vampire remembers the day before, and the long hours it had spent draped over Callum’s saddle. It remembers when the hunter had first found it, and how he’d taken one look at the iron muzzle and declared it barbaric. It remembers lying broken and bloody at the man’s feet, waiting for a beating that never came. It remembers how Callum had fed it, healed it, instead of simply tying the vampire to his saddle and dragging it along. This hunter has been merciful.

“I know you’re under there, bud.” The voice isn’t angry, not yet, but the vampire still quails under it, whimpering softly. It isn’t trying to hide, isn’t trying to escape... but it won’t matter. The man will still grab it by the ankle and drag it out into the light, where it can be hurt. “I’m going to need you to come out,” the voice murmurs, and the vampire’s body starts to shake. It wants nothing more than to cower in the darkness, to whimper and whine and beg…

But there will only be one chance to appease the man.

Wriggling out from under the cot takes some effort, but the vampire claws its way out with shaking, crooked fingers. The pain rolls through it in aching pulses with every move. Its knees are still misshapen, and a deep agony spikes through the creature as it collapses at the hunter’s feet. It knows it cannot beg. Words are for people, not filthy leeches. But it sniffles, and curls an arm over its head, and it waits.

The air of the cell is cold against its bare back, still stinging with open wounds. Its ribs are concave, clinging to the beasts’ skeleton like paper.

“Okay, that’s… that’s better.” There’s a quieter sigh from above, and then the hunter is crouching down over it. The vampire has an immediate flashback to three days ago, when the hunter had first stooped to examine it – just like he’s doing now. It remembers the care the man had taken. It remembers lying in petrified, tormented silence, and swallowing its noises of pain, and being fed so gently when the hunter was satisfied. It remembers pity.

“I need to look at your injuries. And that’s going to be painful.” The vampire doesn’t react to the promise, aside from a wobble in its chin. “I’ll try to keep it quick, but it’s going to hurt, and I need to make sure you aren’t going to lash out. So this is going on you.” The hunter picks up the leather contraption, and the creature’s eyes fixate on it with a dull sort of resignation. “You’re going to go where I put you, and you’re going to behave yourself. I will make it as painless as possible. Understood?”

There’s a split second’s delay, and then the vampire is nodding frantically against the cold floor with a desperate little sound. As painless as possible may as well be an offer of clemency straight from the gods. There’s never been a chance of less pain before, no matter how it behaved. It’s a trial and a test, of course; the vampire will have to suffer first. But if it can suffer quietly, if it can be good… maybe it will be hurt a little less.

Maybe it can earn mercy.

“Okay then.” There is so much to be told from someone’s voice, but this hunter is difficult to read. He doesn’t seem pleased to have the vampire cowering at his feet, and the vampire doesn’t understand. “I know this is scary,” he murmurs. “It’s going to help. I promise.” It’s a lie, the vampire thinks dully. Whenever the man speaks so softly to it, whenever he’s gentle – it’s a lie. “I’m going to put this on you, now. Come here.”

Large hands settle on its bony shoulders, and the vampire trembles underneath them. The creature is unceremoniously rolled onto its side, and it goes without resistance, panting and whining through the pain. One hand stays, heated and broad on its shoulder, and the vampire recoils when the other appears in front of its face.

“Easy,” the hunter murmurs. “I know you don’t want to bite me, bud. This is just so it doesn’t happen by accident.” Strong fingers curl under the creature’s jaw, and the vampire immediately goes pliant. The man is fiddling with the metal and leather, and absently the vampire identifies the device as a muzzle. Its breath hitches, but the vampire just whines softly as the hunter lifts its head. There’s no resistance, not even a hint.

Callum’s grip is tighter now, like he’s expecting a struggle. But the vampire has gone totally limp, absent and glassy-eyed, and it’s making a muted keening sound in the back of its throat. It can smell the leather of the muzzle, and the vampire’s mouth opens automatically for the bit. It has to be good; it has to obey.

It won’t bite. The hunter knows it won’t bite. It has to be good.

As soon as the muzzle settles, the vampire can feel that it’s different. The creature waits for the burning to start, waits for the stench of scorched flesh to permeate the cell. It waits for agony and tears. But the seconds tick by, and the pain doesn’t come. The metal bit sits right behind its fangs, but it isn’t searing into the vampire’s mouth, and the leather cups its face like a glove. The bit holds the vampire’s mouth open, but it’s not stretched painfully wide, and there are a series of small openings so that it can breathe. This is a muzzle that was not designed to hurt… and the sheer bewilderment keeps the vampire lax as the buckles are done up.

When it’s done, the vampire hangs there in confusion. Where is the pain? Where is the burning, tearing sensation, the inescapable agony? There is a proper muzzle in the hunter’s possession, the vampire knows – it had seen it on that first day, while it lay helpless and broken at the man’s feet. It can’t be muzzled and not in pain. And yet, somehow, it is both.

The fingers at its chin are released, and the vampire lets out a little whimper of relief when the muzzle isn’t tightened any further. The leather is thick and enforced with steel, but it’s not cutting into the vampire’s skin, it’s not rubbing the edges of its mouth bloody. The creature had gone where it was put, it had been still and obedient, and it hasn’t been hurt.

The lack of new pain is disorienting, and there’s something worshipful in the vampire’s eyes when Callum leans down to pick it up.

It will pay for the kindness, the creature knows, and it’s already afraid of what the hunter will do to it in return. But then it is being carried, moved out of its cell, and immediately the vampire’s thoughts grind to a halt.

Whatever small mercies it has been granted, this is not the time for thinking. Now it is time to hurt.

The vampire is expecting pain, but when they step into the hunter’s lab, it’s still a shock.

The slab in the middle of the room is metal, and there are restraints where someone can be strapped down. It smells like iron and antiseptic, and there are oversized needles waiting on the work bench. A pair of vampire fangs sit in a display case.

The table is metal, and there are straps – and suddenly the vampire can’t breathe.

It had mistaken the hunter’s careful handling as compassion, but it has made a terrible mistake. There is no compassion to be had, not ever, not for something like it.

The metal table looms, cold and threatening, and the vampire’s lungs feel tight.

Maybe this is punishment for being what it is. Leech. Beast. Parasite. Or maybe it’s something else. The other hunters had said something about this, a long time ago – years and years ago, it feels like. The recollection is buried between horrors so great the vampire can’t even remember them. But still, the words come back, ringing with the horror of memory.

Outta put this little shit on a flat surface and slice it open like a fish. See what kinda organs an’ junk are in there. Do these things even have organs?

It had been an empty threat, something that they talked about but never executed – but the vampire still remembers the cold terror that had come with it.

The creature shudders in the hunter’s arms, staring blindly at the table. It wishes that it was dead. It wishes that it had died in the sun, melted away into ash. Whatever waits for it on that metal table will be worse than death, a thousand times worse. It turns pleading eyes to the hunter… but in the end, death would be an escape - and the vampire isn’t allowed that.

Callum takes a step closer to the table, and the vampire screams raggedly and collapses in on itself. Its chest is heaving, its eyes already distant. It knows that the hunter will stifle any resistance with ease, just like it knows it’s going to die on that table. It’s going to be pickled and put on display, sliced open and dissected. It’s going to die looking down on its own body, wishing that it could pass more quickly.

“I know, I know,” the hunter is muttering. “It looks scary. I just need you to hold still.”

There is no mercy coming in exchange for obedience. There is no mercy coming at all. It’s begging, the vampire realizes, crying and sobbing behind the muzzle… but it all gets garbled by the bit. The cold steel on its tongue had felt like pity, before, but now the creature understands.

“I’m realizing now that this looks much worse than it is.” The hunter isn’t talking to it, and the vampire isn’t listening. The man puts it down on the metal table, and the creature gives a frantic, punched-out sob. The table sucks all the warmth away. “I wish I could make this easier for you, kid. But I have to set your shoulder. And your knees are just…” The man shakes his head. “Your knees a mess.”

The vampire is shaking and hyperventilating, and Callum hasn’t even laid a hand on it yet.

“Stay,” Callum warns softly, even though they both know the creature doesn’t have a choice.

The restraints are done up carefully – ankles first, then its right wrist and elbow, and then a strap is done up tight over its middle. The creature’s left wrist and arm are free, and its mangled knees aren’t touched at all. It goes where it is put in terrified, limp silence, and it is not hurt. But that doesn’t mean much of anything, anymore.

It’s a different kind of vulnerable when the hunter walks a circle around it, and the vampire can only watch from where it’s prone on the table. The man can do anything to it this way, anything at all.

The vampire is trying very hard to disappear back into its own head. It understands the horror that awaits it, even if the creature doesn’t know the word for vivisection. So it trembles, and it waits. It can’t do anything to be good like this, can’t do anything except hold in its own screams.

The vampire jolts and whimpers when it is touched. It’s shaking again (or perhaps it never stopped), and Callum’s eyes are sad.

“Breathe, kid.” The hunter doesn’t stop moving, but his hands are careful as he slides a palm along the vampire’s bad shoulder, pressing ever so lightly at where it’s crooked.

Even the faintest pressure has the creature whining and twisting in the restraints, and Callum frowns.

“Your shoulder has healed wrong,” he says simply. “I have to rebreak it. I’m sorry.”

There’s no more explanation after that, and the vampire wouldn’t have understood even if there was.

Its shoulder has been wrong for a long time; the vampire can’t remember the exact instance of it breaking, and that’s probably unimportant. What is important is the moment the hunter grips its forearm, full of determination and strength, and the first scream erupts from its chest.

It had promised that it would try to be quiet. It had been so determined to be silent and still, to be good – but the pain is a tsunami, and it crashes over the resistance like it’s made of sand.

Callum knows what he’s doing, but his stomach still turns when he grips the vampire’s left arm and carefully lines up the bone and joint. He triple checks the positioning, then takes a deep breath. When it happens, it’s quick and brutal. There’s a harsh shove, a deep, sickening snap, and then the vampire is screaming, loud and ragged.

The agony in its shoulder is blinding. The creature has felt this kind of pain before, but it is rare – this is a massive pain, radiating from somewhere deep inside. This is the kind of pain that blots out its whole existence, a pain that it will feel for weeks and weeks on end.

The vampire heaves and chokes on the inhale, and the hands on it do not relent. It’s pinned down, and there is too much pain coursing through its body to think. There is only pain, and helplessness, and the taste of its own fear.

That’s all there ever is.

The hands grip higher, tighter, and the vampire’s throat closes up. No, no, it already hurts so much, please, no, please – it can feel the tug and stretch of muscle and sinew being pulled the wrong way, forcing its inner structure into the wrong shape. It’s panicked and terrified, and in desperation the creature seeks the hunter out – its eyes are wild, and beneath the bruises its skin is bone white.

The hunter is bent over it, hair tied back from his face, and his brow is furrowed. He’s clearly concentrating, and the vampire whimpers a wordless plea for it to stop, just stop, it can’t take it anymore, please… But the pain doesn’t stop. The hunter doesn’t even look at it.

There’s one final change in grip, and then Callum is yanking and pushing again, and the vampire is screaming its throat raw. It can’t inhale and scream at the same time, but it’s trying, writhing and spasming on the cold table. It can feel bone and ligaments and cartilage grinding and scraping together under its skin, nerve endings all alight with bright agony.

Its shoulder pops back into place in a final, sickening crunch, and the vampire arches against the restraints and finally passes out.

The creature’s skin has always been pale beneath the grime and filth, but it’s even more ashen than usual as Callum takes a step back. “Jesus christ,” he mutters faintly. The creature’s screams still ring in his ears.

Callum is efficient as he checks his work. He tests the joint for swelling, and then straps the creature’s bad arm tightly to its side with an old belt. The position will keep the joint in place while it heals… and hopefully prevent further damage. It’ll also feel a lot like being shackled, but there’s nothing he can do about that.

The creature’s shoulder is in bad shape, but, possibly for the first time in months (or years) the joint is where it ought to be. The vampire’s skin is cold and clammy everywhere else, but the flesh stretched over its shoulder is feverishly hot, and quickly starting to become inflamed.

On a human, the whole operation would have been a lost cause. A human would never be able to recover from the torn muscles and nerve damage in their shoulder.

There’s a tremor in Callum’s hands as he goes to get the ice.

When he comes back, the vampire is awake again, and it whimpers weakly as the door opens. Its eyes are hazy with pain, still lost somewhere between exhaustion and delirium, but they focus on Callum immediately. The creature’s expression instantly floods with terror, and it sobs softly, twisting in its restraints.

“Hey, hey, easy,” Callum soothes. Or he tries to – but he’s still coming closer with the ice, and the vampire starts crying as he goes. It stops squirming as it is enveloped in Callum’s shadow.

“We’re almost done here, I promise.” That seems to be about all Callum has to offer. It’s almost over.

Staring up at him from the table, the vampire’s head is still spinning. But its entire side is in agony, and its shoulder, the one that hasn’t moved right in months – it’s different. Not less painful, oh no, but it’s different.

The joint has been broken for so long, it takes the vampire a moment to realize what having it back in place feels like. It throbs with every inhale, every sluggish beat of the vampire’s undead heart – but it’s in place.

Then, we’re almost done here, the hunter says, and the vampire starts to cry again. It’s relief, maybe, or dread.

When Callum reaches for it again, the vampire’s body reacts viscerally with the fear; it goes cold and nauseous, sobbing helplessly. Those hands have proven, now, how adept they are at wrenching bones and joints out of place. The vampire is paper and glass beneath them.

“Your shoulder’s back in place, but it’s swelling,” the hunter mutters, completely heedless of the creature’s trembling. “This will help.”

There’s cold, then, on its shoulder, and the creature shudders and gasps. The cold immediately starts to combat the raging heat under its skin, and the vampire goes still and wide-eyed in bewilderment. The cold is helping, it feels like – but that can’t possibly be the goal.

Callum, for his part, is hesitating over the best way to treat the creature’s knees. He can’t rebreak and set them, because they’re in too many pieces. He’s got bandages, splints, alcohol, ice, and three vials of his own blood to work with.

It’s not an ideal set-up, but it will have to do.

In the end, Callum splints the vampire’s misshapen knees, and he draws it tight enough to elicit a few cries and panicky whimpers.

“I know, I know. I’m sorry,” he murmurs as the vampire pants and gasps for air. In the strangest of ways, it seems like the creature has calmed down some; this kind of pain is familiar. This is a pain it knows, and the vampire can pant and scream and whimper through it.

Callum can’t rebreak its knees, because he had no idea how to reform them after. But he’s seen vampires recover from damage like this before. And in this case, if he’s correct… then all this vampire needs is a little push. The splints are forcing the creature’s knees into approximately their original shape, but the only thing that will mend them properly is blood.

“This is going to help,” he mutters as he goes to retrieve the first syringe.

The creature sees him coming, but it seems like the vampire’s plateau for fear has been reached; it only stares at the needle for a long moment, and then it slumps back against the table, tears dripping down its cheeks. It sniffles and sobs as Callum wipes a patch of skin clean on each knee.

The hunter wishes, with all his heart, that he could have given more blood. But he can still feel the fatigue in his limbs, and the headache behind his eyes. He doesn’t have any more spare blood to bleed, and that might end up being a problem. But it’ll be a problem for later.

The first needle slides into the vampire’s flesh, right through the mangled remains of what used to be its kneecap, and vampire only shudders and keens. There’s resistance when Callum presses down on the plunger, but he’s patient.

It’s a sizeable syringe, and the blood starts to work before Callum is finished. The vampire jerks and whines piteously, and the hunter hurriedly presses the plunger the rest of the way down. The needle comes away easily, and Callum drops it back on the bench, watching the results.

The first crunch is almost inaudible, but Callum hears the way the creature’s breath catches. Then there’s another muffled, wet sound, like cartilage and sinew bending and breaking, and the vampire screams as its back leaves the table.

Its knees are healing, but it hurts.

Callum returns with a second syringe, and the vampire doesn’t have the presence of mind to beg him to stop. The needle sinks into its other knee, and then there’s a twin burning feeling in that one, hot and fiery as the blood spreads outward and in.

The creature remembers its throat, burning and itching as it healed after months of silence. It remembers the hunter’s hands, steadying and comforting. This pain is the same, searing through it like an inexorable flame as it heals. The vampire seeks out the hunter’s eyes and whines piteously, like it’s begging – but for what, it’s not sure.

“You’re doing fine, kid.” The hunter’s voice is just as gravelly as it always is, but the vampire latches onto it anyway, whimpering in pain.

There’s another source of pain, then, sudden and sharp – the vampire’s eyes fly open to see the hunter with one more needle, currently being injected into its bad shoulder. It sniffles, and the hunter just shakes his head.

“That’s the last one for today,” he says softly. “Promise.”

This man has promised a few things, the vampire thinks. It’s too disoriented to remember if any of them had been true or not.

The pain spreads, and its shoulder aches and burns, and the vampire pants through the muzzle as it waits for it to stop. Movement from the hunter has it flinching, whimpering automatically – but the man just shushes it softly.

“Easy there, pointy. I’m just taking these off.” The straps that pin it to the metal table are loosened, then the cuffs around its ankles, and the vampire just shivers where it lies, blinking hazily. It can’t be over so soon, surely? The hunter has only just started.

It isn’t even bleeding yet.

The last strap comes free, and the vampire trembles and lies still. This isn’t right. There has to be more pain coming. Of course, the pain it’s already in is blinding, radiating outward in pulses from deep in its shoulder… but the vampire can still think. It can still move, if only to tremble and flinch.

“Hey. Look at me, kid.”

The command registers slowly, like it’s coming through a fog. But the creature tries to obey, dragging exhaustion-laden eyes up to the hunter. The man’s face is worn with lines, but the vampire looks for the familiar, cruel glint in his eyes… and it finds nothing.

“You did well,” the hunter says simply, and the vampire’s breath catches.

It – it can’t be that easy.

It can’t.

When the hunter picks it up again the vampire flinches, but the man’s arms are gentle. Its shoulder is a constant beacon of agony, and its knees are still healing. But Callum is careful, and the vampire whimpers and clings when its weight leaves the table. It would hurt so much to be dropped like this, and the creature is so tired of hurting.

Setting the vampire’s shoulder and knees has only taken a good two hours, but Callum is tired, and he knows that the vampire is in much worse shape.

The creature is exhausted. Pain and terror take energy, and the broken little thing had so little energy to offer in the first place. It’s still emaciated and battered, and there are still bruises across its ribs, and deep gashes in its back. That’s not the worst of it, either; not the crooked fingers, or the ragged, nail-less tips, not the slight wheeze on every inhale, or the mangled soles of its feet.

It’s almost, Callum thinks, like he’s been trying not to see, so he won’t be able to feel the enormity of it.

He had pinpointed the vampire’s most serious injuries and tended to them with blinders on, but now, in the light of day, and in his own home, it’s finally hitting Callum just how horrendous the creature’s treatment was. He can see the damage now, in full, unfiltered detail, every crooked, beaten inch.

Fucking animals, he’d called them. But now he wonders if that’s too lenient a term for the men who did this.

The cell door screeches as it opens, and the vampire moans weakly as it is settled on the mattress. The pain is a gaping chasm, threatening to suck the creature in whole, but the vampire doesn’t flinch, doesn’t cry out. It’s so tired, and every thought is overwritten with the agony from its shoulder.

“Your body needs rest,” the hunter says, “so you’re going to sleep as much as your body will tolerate.” There’s an order in there somewhere, an instruction to be followed, and the vampire whimpers softly, because it knows it’s too weak to obey.

There’s a gusty exhale, and Callum leans down to undo the muzzle. It comes away easily, and the hunter is even patient enough to let the vampire open its mouth, instead of yanking the bit out from behind its fangs.

The creature’s left arm is still firmly bound across its torso, and it’s in so much pain that the vampire is grateful for the support. As if sensing its thoughts, the hunter’s gaze flicks down to the belt, then to the bundle of ice that had come in with them.

“Are you listening, pointy?” The vampire flinches again, but it nods quickly, small and scared. “Good,” the hunter murmurs. “That belt, holding your arm? That stays on. It’s going to help your joint set. So don’t mess with it,” he adds, and the last few words ring with command.

The vampire whimpers softly in response, but it nods again, even quicker than before.

“Okay.” How strange it is, the vampire thinks, to not have its obedience tested with whips and chains and sunlight. “The ice pack needs to stay on as well, it will reduce the swelling.” Those weighted footsteps move away, but the hunter hesitates in leaving.

“I’m going to find you more blood. Then we can tend to your hands, and your wrists. And your feet. And your back. And…” The man trails off, and he makes a bitten-off sound, like an aborted, humorless laugh. “And everything else.” There’s silence for a moment, and the creature feels every second, hanging over its head. In the end, the man just sighs. “Sleep for now,” he murmurs. “When you wake up again I’ll help you get cleaned up.”

The vampire listens dully as the cell clangs shut, and it lifts its head just enough to watch the hunter walk away. It had only been out of its cell for a matter of hours, but the vampire feels raw, stripped right down to its bones.

It wonders what the cold metal table is for, if not for strapping things down and pulling them apart. It wonders why the man has brought it here, if not for the same reason.

It wonders what terrible fate must await it, if the hunter wants it healthy first.

But for the moment, it’s been allowed space to rest, and to heal. It’s been given more blood – even after everything it had been given while they traveled. It’s been offered mercy, if it can be good… Even if the vampire still doesn’t know what that looks like. It doesn’t know what to do to earn that mercy.

It can only hope, as the hunter’s footsteps fade into silence, that there will be enough time to figure it out.

[END]

Previous Next

#whump #my writing #fear #obedience #nonhuman whumpee #muzzle #reluctant caretaker #needles #vampire whump series #vampire part 8 #let me know if i'm missing any tags and i'll add them #also once again!!!#i would love to know how long this takes ppl to read #im still collecting data on that xDDD

589 notes · View notes

straight-into-the-animus · 4 years

Text

Homecoming (Thalexios)

The third of my Thalexios prompts! (A little fluffier after the last one, wheww) I would like to thank @pandoravidal for the wonderful prompt idea, I hope you enjoyed!

No warnings with this one; fluff and reunion fic abound of Alexios returning to Sparta, maybe light spoilers for those who aren’t so far into the game.

Read on Ao3 here

The ground has never felt so uncertain under Alexios’ feet as it did now, in Sparta. In his “home”. His search for the truth had taken him all around Greece, from oracles to battlefields to across the sea and the depth of Poseidon's fury.

All the way to family. And now, all the way to the land he thought he’d never go back to again.

When they had come in eyesight of the shore, Barnabas had remarked that the bird always knew when it had come back to its nest, no matter how far away it had been. As he had started to walk through the streets too, he began to understand. No matter how much he may have looked an outsider among the soldiers in their shining armor of gold and red, the blood that flowed in his veins was the same as in theirs. He had even likely bled alongside some of them in their little war against the Athenians.

The sun was at its peak as he stopped his journey near the statue of Leonidas, at his tomb. The area wasn’t overly crowded, but he wondered just how many people stared at him. Likely none of them knew who he was, what was strapped to his back. What would his grandfather say had he been alive now? These thoughts didn’t plague him often, but now it was if they were beyond forthcoming.

He was so engrossed he barely heard the man’s voice behind him until a hand accompanied it, hesitant but warm and calloused as it rested on his arm. “Alexios?”

Out of instinct Alexios spun around and grabbed the man’s wrist, bewildered but warning filled glare melting away to complete shock. “Thaletas?” He could scarcely breathe it out, eyes roving over the man in front of him before he was pulled into a tight hug, a hand thumping his shoulder. He was helpless to do anything but hug back, feeling the press of steel and leather against him.

“Alexios, dear Gods, it’s wonderful to see you. How long since Mykonos… six months?”

“Had to have been. You’re back in Sparta so soon?” Alexios pulled away from the hug, hands resting on the shoulders of the other man for just a while longer before they fell away to the side, just brushing his arms.

“I just arrived yesterday. I was called back for reports, and since it seemed stable, I didn’t think it was in much danger with my absence.” Thaletas shook his head, in some form of disbelief. “Never did I think I would see you in Sparta. Not after… I thought you said you couldn’t return.”

“I… I suppose I found what I was looking for. And it all lead me back here, anyway. Every road I took.” Alexios gestured around to the city and the fields -- he had avoided looking east towards Mount Taygetos ever since he had come into view of the land -- and Thaletas let out a small breath of laughter, crossing his arms behind the small of his back as he seemed to appreciate the view as well.

“Sparta has that effect on people. Seems right that you were drawn to this as well.” Thaletas nodded with his head towards the statue in front of them. “You don’t find this the most beautiful part of all?”

“I’ve seen bigger.” Alexios smirked just a bit, intentions and meaning vague even as he saw the faintest amount of pink cover Thaletas’ cheeks.

“I’m sure you have.” Gods, how much had he missed this? And how much had he thought he would never get to have it again? But then he remembered Mykonos, and how they had spoken of the Fates bringing them together again, but just as much about Kyra and the plans the rebels had for rebuilding that island. And then he had to dim the light inside of him just a bit more as Thaletas continued, staring up at the statue. “They’ve had this up as long as I can remember. They built it after the Battle of Thermopylae. The great King Leonidas.”

“My mother… She spoke highly of him. Told me many stories about him, about what his legacy meant to us and our family.” He knew what was coming before Thaletas even could give him a look of confusion and questioning. “Leonidas is my grandfather. Father of my mother.”

“Alexios.” Thaletas gave another one of those half-laughs, which was the equivalent of a ful laugh for him, but it quickly died as they both stared at each other. His eyes widened just a bit, looking from the statue of the king to the misthios. “King Leonidas is your grandfather.”

“Is it so unbelievable? If I grew out my beard, I’d look just like him.” Alexios joked, but Thaletas just shook his head, their eyes locking.

“Your life is fantastic, Alexios. Something straight out of… Something Hesiod himself would envy writing.” Such pure sincerity fell from his lips that Alexios found himself growing shy under it, head ducking away to look at another spot in the distance.

“You’re too kind.” Alexios finally admitted, turning back to look at Thaletas but finding his attention turned beyond the city as well.

“Are you busy? Or waiting for anything?”

Alexios knew, rationally, that yes, he was. It was the whole purpose for his being here, waiting for the time for his audience with the kings of Sparta alongside his mother and Brasidas. Thaletas just happened to be simply the best coincidence that could happen at that time. But the other part of him knew that the thread of fate was meant to be followed, that he was to be strung along by the thread until they reached the end. And he had time, even if it was time for a final goodbye.

“I have time. What did you have in mind?”

“Something special.”

---------------

The journey led them out of the city and more into the countryside, heading north up into the sloping hills.

“How were the Silver Islands when you left?” Alexios was finally able to get out after some time of companionable but filled silence.

“Fine. The Athenians have left us alone.” Thaletas look back at the misthios as they walked. “The government implemented by the Spartans and the rebels seem to be stable enough.”

“Kyra is doing well?”

Thaletas was silent until they finally stopped on top of a hill near ruins farther away from the city; it was in view, but barely. When he spoke again, it was measured. “Last I saw her, she was.”

“Oh.” Alexios nodded, crossing his arms. “That’s good. I’m glad she’s doing well after everything. She will make a fine wife when everything is truly settled, I’m sure.”

“Alexios.” Thaletas was quiet, but his voice was firm. “We haven’t…Before I left, we weren’t together in such a way.”

“No? But you both seemed-”

Thaletas sighed, hands behind his back as they fidgeted nervously. “I know what it seemed. But I… I couldn’t feel for her as I did for you. Every night, on those islands, all I could think about was the beach. Those ruins.” He looked over at Alexios, a hand hesitantly reaching out for his shoulder.. “What we said to each other.”

“Thaletas, I-”

“They weren’t just words to me. Not then. And not now. Alexios, I lo-”

He didn’t get to finish as Alexios reached for him and pulled him close, lips meeting roughly. Their arms wrapped around each other tightly, Alexios’ hand trailing up Thaletas’ armor to play with the wisps of curls there at the nape of his neck, earning him a shiver. Gods, how much had he missed this? And how much had he thought he would never get to have it again? It was so, so easy in the soldier’s arms to forget everything and once again melt into security and further on into an emotion he was scared to name.

Things were not so easily forgotten. Some pain was still there. But for now, for just an hour or two, he was content to ignore it because of what this was.

“You didn’t get to let me finish.” Thaletas was breathless as they pulled away eventually, foreheads resting against each other.

“Unless your words were for me to drown in the Aegean Sea, I didn’t need to hear anything else.” Alexios gave a barely there smile, excitement pouring through it.

Thaletas smirked just a bit, mischief dancing in on his words. “And if I said I wanted to take you here and now?”

“Don’t give me any ideas.” Alexios ignored the sharp bit of pleasure that shot through him at the idea. Delos was still fresh in his mind. “Maybe later tonight, should all things go well.” He sighed, hand still at the nape of Thaletas’ neck as he stroked his cheek with his thumb. “I seek an audience with the Kings first. I’ve been through what can only be compared to the trials of Herakles for this.”

“The Kings? You’ve been busy. What do you need to see them for?”

“My citizenship, my house, among other things. Yes,” He noted at the look, “it’s a very long story.”

“I’m sure. When is your audience?”

“In a few hours, if I’m accurate with the time.”

“I want to go with you.”

Alexios furrowed his brow, pulling away in the embrace just a bit more with reluctance to look over the soldier. “What?”

“I want to go with you, Alexios. To the Kings.” His eyes flitted away for a second, seeming to think of other things for a second, before shaking his head just barely as if dismissing an idea. Before Alexios could ask him about it, he continued. “I can vouch for you as well, your performance in Mykonos. I’ll help you. It’s the least I can do.”

“Thaletas, it’s not like that. And you don’t have to. You don’t owe me anything.”

“I don’t want to leave your side, Alexios. Especially now. Or ever, if I can help it.”

The words hung heavy in the air between the both of them, a promise made only in the sights of the Gods themselves. Alexios was silent for a long time before squeezing Thaletas’ arms just slightly, a comfort for himself just a little bit.

“You say that.”

“I mean it. I was a fool then. Now that I realize I have a chance again, I won’t be so foolish.” Thaletas said.

“I don’t care if you’re a fool. I care if you’re there or not. But the Kings won’t be easy to speak to.” He wanted to tell him about the Cult of Kosmos, about the danger he could be walking into, but he held back.

“I know. You’re going to need me there any way. So, if you’re sure you don’t have time for what I’d much rather do with you,” Alexios couldn’t help a good natured roll of his eyes, “then we’ll head back to the city to prepare you. And you can explain things to me.”

“Fine.” Alexios pulled him in for one more kiss, unable to help himself. He had once asked Thaletas if he would stay by his side, “now and forever”. Back then, he hadn’t known how much those words meant. But now he did. But the weight wasn’t unbearable; it was warm, settling like a cloak on his body and keeping him safe from everything and everyone else. “And afterwards, should all go well, perhaps a trip out here for a ‘celebration’ wouldn’t be such a bad idea.”

“I knew you’d see things my way, Eagle-Bearer.” Thaletas smiled, and Alexios had never seen the future clearer, at least for now.

---------------

I hope you enjoy! If you do I have a Masterpost here and more ideas for writings and prompts here, so feel free to request! If you’d like to support me, I have a ko-fi here! Safety and peace!

#assassin's creed #thalexios #alexios #thaletas #my fanfics #my writings

13 notes · View notes

semperintrepida · 4 years

Text

The Puzzle in the Wanting

Kassandra threw the ladder over the edge of the Adrestia’s deck as a felucca glided alongside, and she held her torch out over dark waters, casting flickers of orange light upon the smaller boat’s sail and decking as shadowed figures moved below. The moon hovered at the horizon, lighting a path across the waves so radiant and inviting it seemed like they all could have stepped upon it and walked straight to Delos.

It would have been an easier trip, to be sure, instead of slipping away from port in the darkness and sailing to a cove where Kyra could meet them. Kassandra had tried to persuade her not to come to Delos at all; after their successful raid on the supply caravan, Podarkes had doubled the price on Kyra’s head, and it would have been safer for her to stay out of sight on Mykonos. But “safe” wasn’t a word Kyra thought much of, and once Kassandra had revealed her intention to take out the weapons stash on Delos by herself, Kyra had rolled her eyes and said, “I’m going with you. It’ll be safer if someone watched your back.”

Down below, one of the shadows stepped up onto the ladder and began climbing. The felucca turned and headed back for shore. Then Kyra emerged into the torchlight, and Kassandra took her hand and helped her find her footing on the Adrestia’s deck.

Kyra had come ready to fight, with her bow and quiver slung across her body and a xiphos sheathed at her waist. She’d tied the sleeves back on her chiton, exposing her shoulders and the long smooth muscles of her arms.

Kassandra smiled and said, “Welcome aboard,” as she slid the torch into a holder on the rail beside her and Barnabas came over to join them. Kyra’s skin was cool against her own, and Kassandra allowed herself to enjoy how it felt, just for a moment, before she let go. “Kyra, this is Barnabas, Captain of the Adrestia. Barnabas, Kyra.”

“It’s a pleasure,” Barnabas said, extending his hand.

They clasped arms in greeting, while Kassandra bent down and began pulling up the ladder.

“Thanks for the ride, Captain. I’ve always hated swimming to Delos.” Kyra said it breezily enough that Kassandra couldn’t tell if she was being serious or not.

“Aye, it’s dangerous,” he said. “Especially with the ‘maw lurking beneath the waves.”

“Don’t go swimming when Sharpmaw’s around, because he’ll bite your foot off—”

“—and come back for seconds,” they said in unison, before breaking into laughter over their shared joke.

“You’re from Mykonos,” Kyra said.

“Yes, and they’ve been telling that story since I was a boy.”

“You know, I’ve lived here all my life and I’ve never seen Sharpmaw once.”

“And I’ve never seen Zeus, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t exist. Like the gods — or like love, I suppose — he’ll show up when you least expect it.”

“A philosopher as well as a sea captain. Does the Eagle Bearer pick all her companions so wisely?”

At that moment, Gelon’s voice snapped loudly across the deck: “For fuck’s sake, boys, when I said row, I meant more than one stroke a year.”

“No,” Kassandra said in answer to Kyra’s question.

Gelon swooped past them on her way to the fore of the ship, saying over her shoulder, “Sorry, Commander. Apparently all that beach time left the crew too tired to row.”

Kassandra waved a hand after Gelon’s disappearing form. “And that’s Gelon, the Adrestia’s first mate.”

“She’s an excellent sailor,” Barnabas said, “But even her curses know how to curse.”

“I was fortunate to run into Barnabas when I did,” Kassandra said.

“But it was I who was the most fortunate, because at the time, a terrible criminal was trying to drown me in a pot of water, until she showed up…” He loved telling this story, and he gently guided Kyra back towards the ship’s helm as he dove into the tale.

Kassandra wandered to the fore of the ship and found Gelon shouting down the hatch that led below decks. Then Gelon spotted her, slammed the hatch shut, and stood up to meet her. “So that’s the infamous Kyra.”

Kassandra handed her the rolled-up ladder. “In the flesh.”

Gelon let out a low whistle. “You know how to pick 'em.”

“What are you getting at?”

“I’ve got two good eyes and my blood’s as red as yours. You know what the fuck I’m talking about.”

“Too bad she’s already taken,” Kassandra said, ignoring Gelon’s skeptical look. “How long till we drop anchor?”

Gelon lifted her face to the sky and studied the constellation of the turning wagon. “An hour. Maybe two if the currents suck.”

“Good. Let me know when we reach the inlet.” Kyra’s contacts on Delos would be waiting for them. The Adrestia would send a signal, and the rebels on Delos would send over a boat.

Barnabas was still telling his story when Kassandra rejoined them at the helm’s upper railing. “…and she took his precious obsidian eye, and stuck it up the goat’s ass! The poor thing ran off like a harpy was after it.”

Kyra looked at her. “You didn’t.”

“I put his eye where it belonged,” she said with a shrug.

“Not only that… She told the Cyclops if he wanted it back, he should get it himself.”

“What did he do then?” Kyra asked.

“He wasn’t happy, I’ll tell you that!” Barnabas said. “He pulled out this huge mace, and his men drew their swords. And she just stood there, her armor shining in the sun like she’d been blessed by the gods…”

“My armor was shiny because it was new — I’d just gotten it.”

“Blessed by Apollo to deliver his shining justice, she was. And when this bunch of thugs ran at her with murder in their eyes, she just stood there, looking bored.”

“I was trying to draw them away from you, since you didn’t seem interested in running for safety.”

“And leave my front row seat? The gods had never answered my prayers so… directly before, and I wanted to experience the moment!” He peered at Kassandra, reliving the memory. “Then she finally drew her sword and that spear of hers, and… I swear to the gods… she fought like Achilles reborn.”

“I thought four against one were pretty good odds.” Kyra didn’t need to know her opponents in this particular scrap were three terrible swordsmen and one muscle-bound lunkhead who moved about as fast as a boulder lodged in a hillside.

Barnabas’s voice seemed to stretch under the weight of his awe. “It was the way she moved — faster than any warrior I’ve ever seen, and I’ve seen my share of battles. She cut those thugs to pieces, and made it look easy.”

“I believe it,” Kyra said.

“Kassandra saved my life. So I offered her the use of my ship, and my services as captain.” He smiled slyly and winked at Kyra. “The fact that I get to watch a gods’ blessed hero at work is just a bonus.”

Blessings could be so close to curses, but Kassandra would never tell him that. “I got a ship and a friend out of that deal.”

“Yes! The gods smiled upon us both!” he said with a grin. “And I hope they keep smiling — we’re coming up on the southern point.” He shifted his gaze to Delos, a dark shape against the sky dotted with motes of light. “You’ll have to excuse me, it’s my turn to take up the helm and keep us off those rocks.”

Kyra leaned back against the rail and watched him hurry away. “How long have you known each other?”

“A year.”

“That’s all? You were on Kephallonia a long time, then.”

“Close to twenty years.”

“What made you leave?”

“Someone offered me a job. It was a way off the island, and I was more than ready to go.”

Kyra’s brow creased with delicate lines, as she tried to figure out where these tiny pieces fit within the thread the Fates had woven for Kassandra. “What did your family think of you leaving?”

Kassandra didn’t get a chance to answer, as a whistle sounded from the foredeck, followed shortly by Gelon bounding up the stairs to the helm. “The lookout spotted an Athenian sentry boat. We could go the long way 'round, or turn the lights out and slip by.”

She looked for the moon, and found it a sliver above the horizon. The moonpath that had once seemed so substantial had become a small pool of quicksilver that shrank the longer she looked at it. Soon the only light would be the ones shining on Delos, and the smaller specks on the islands in the distance that blended in with the stars. “Lights out and quiet, then,” she said to Gelon, before turning back to Kyra. “I’m afraid the answer to your question will have to wait.”

“Yet another reason for me to curse the Athenians,” Kyra said, a half-smile at her lips. Then she turned away from Delos and faced the sea and its enigmatic darkness, and as Kassandra followed Gelon to the foredeck, she wondered how long that list of reasons would be if Kyra were to write them all down.

.oOo.

“So, what’s the plan?” Kyra whispered. “Other than pretending to be tree nymphs.”

They were hidden in a thick stand of bushes outside the Athenian camp, the sky above them just beginning to glow. Dawn would arrive soon, and the soldiers asleep in their tents would stir along with it.

“I thought you were the strategic thinker.”

Kyra turned to her, and even in this light Kassandra could see her roll her eyes. “Shoot the sentries, stab the sleepers.”

“Very catchy. But let me have the sentry with the torch.”

Kyra merely nodded and drew an arrow from her quiver.

The Athenians had built the camp within an ancient ruin, at the end of a road gouged with wagon ruts and pocked with hoofprints. The sentry with a torch stood watch at the entrance to the camp, where the road ended at a gap between the ruin’s crumbling outer walls. There were two more sentries at the camp’s back corners. A total of three sentries to watch over an unknown number of soldiers sleeping in the tents. Light security for a place so important, but then again, this was Delos, where spilling blood was illegal and everyone feared Apollo’s wrath.

Apollo was the very least of Kassandra’s worries. Of more pressing concern was getting to the outer wall without being seen. The wall was a long run of rough-hewn stones, chest high, with a sharp corner at the end closest to the sentry. She crouched, then chose a curving path that used the corner to block the soldier’s sightlines.

Above her, the sky reflected the halo of torchlight from where he stood on the other side of the wall. She could hear him breathing, and the creak of his armor as he shifted his weight from foot to foot.

She drew her spear, her grip tight around its leather-wrapped handle. Then she vaulted over the wall, took one long step, then another, and drove the spear into the base of his skull. Time slowed, lengthening like thread from a dropped spindle, and she plucked the torch out of the air as he toppled to the ground. She didn’t want an uncontrolled fire waking up the rest of the camp.

The interior of the camp was lit by scattered oil lamps. She snuffed the torch out against the dirt road, its jeweled embers shining in the dark, and when she looked up again, she heard the quiet twang of a bowstring, then a second twang, and then two sentries became two bodies sagging down to earth. She really could get used to Kyra’s idea of backup.

She crept across the grass to the nearest tent. Listened for a moment and heard quiet snoring from within. Lifted the flap, let her eyes adjust to the light, and saw two sleeping forms. Then she was inside, flicking her blade once, twice, and afterwards, neither man would wake again.

There were two more soldiers sleeping in the last tent. She eased her way through its opening, crouched above the nearest man, lifted her spear — and he suddenly woke up, eyes wild, mouth wide. She dropped her knee onto his chest and clamped her hand across his mouth and stabbed him in the throat. The other soldier slept on, but his slumber was unsettled. He murmured nonsense and rolled over in his bedding. Death came for him swiftly and silently. What had he dreamt of before he found himself on the banks of the Styx?

Back outside, she wiped her blade on the flap of the tent and rinsed her hands in a basin of water on a nearby table. The sky had brightened to a pale, rose-colored glow, and she could see the crates of weapons scattered in piles around the camp.

An oil lamp rested on a post next to the tent. She picked up a jug sitting at the base of the post and smelled it. Oil. Perfect.

She flung the jug at the closest pile of crates, where it shattered into a spray of shiny droplets on impact. But before she could even pick up the lamp, a bright streak shot through the air and struck the pile. There was a loud whumph, followed by an impressive ball of flame as the entire pile of weapons went up like a pyre.

Kassandra turned and saw Kyra standing nearby with her bow in her hand and a smirk on her face.

They lit up pile after pile in short order, until there was only one remaining. Kassandra searched the camp, looking for another oil jug, and as she rummaged through shelves full of supplies, she spotted an amphora among a stack of empty vessels. She lifted it and read the stamp on its lid: Pramnian wine. Now that was a find. She tucked it back into place and kept searching until she found the oil she sought. Then she handed the oil jug off to Kyra while she went back to claim her prize.

Just as she was pulling the wine from its hiding place, she heard Kyra’s voice behind her.

“What have you got there?”

Gods, Kyra was quick. The last pile was already up in flames.

Kassandra turned around, hiding the amphora behind her back.

“Let me see it.”

“You’re not my polemarch,” Kassandra said, pivoting her body to keep the wine out of sight as Kyra darted from side to side, trying to catch a glimpse of it.

Kyra put one hand on her hip and used the other one for punctuation. “So you’re a Spartan again? How convenient. Let me see it.”

Kassandra smiled benevolently. “No.”

“I’m paying you!”

“You haven’t given me a single drachma yet. Come to think of it, you’ve been costing me money.” She started counting on her fingers. “Docking fees for the Adrestia… Boarding fees at the stables….”

“Those are your problems, not mine.” Kyra had both hands on her hips now.

“Your curiosity is your problem, not mine.”

“You’re really not going to show me, are you?”

She pretended to think about it. “I might be persuaded… but until then, no.”

Kyra threw her hands up and turned on her heels. “Fine!” she said. “I don’t care what you found.” She took three steps up the road, then looked back over her shoulder. “I mean it.”

Kassandra shrugged and didn’t start walking until Kyra was several steps ahead of her. From that vantage, she could enjoy how Kyra’s irritation had permeated her very movements — including the sway of her hips. Provoking Kyra was proving to be highly entertaining.

After a while, she called out after Kyra, “Probably not a good idea for us to stay on the road. Patrols and all.”

Kyra whirled around. She waited until Kassandra came close; then, with lightning quickness, her hand shot out and grabbed the edge of Kassandra’s chestplate at its neckline.

“You…” Kyra said, voice like smoke, her weight shifting with the intent to pivot Kassandra around. She had to have known Kassandra could be moved only when Kassandra wanted to, but she seemed to expect it would happen anyway, like she’d expect the sun to rise in the east. It made Kassandra curious, and instead of rooting her feet to the ground, she let Kyra turn her and push her backwards off the road and into the forest.

“Are…” Kyra said, and she kept pushing, until Kassandra could sense something solid coming up behind her, and she dropped the arm holding the amphora to her side just before her back ran into the trunk of a tree. Kyra stepped close — so close they could have kissed, close enough for Kassandra to catch her scent: faint woodsmoke, and the sharp, spicy sweetness of laurel.

“Annoying,” Kyra finished. Her indignant tone made Kassandra smile, but Kyra’s knuckles were warm against her skin and she wondered if Kyra could feel how hard her heart was pounding. It was taking everything she had to stop herself from doing something rash, which was puzzling. She’d never been this tentative, this cautious with someone before.

She drew in a breath, then held up the wine. “Careful. Wouldn’t want to damage this.”

Kyra glanced down at the amphora. “You sneaky, sneaky misthios. Pramnian wine.”

“I was thinking we could share it later.”

Kyra’s eyes shone in the morning light, and her voice softened. “You surprise me. And to think I nearly threw my blade through your neck.”

“No one’s perfect.”

“Not even you, Eagle Bearer?” She still hadn’t moved her hand.

Kassandra’s first impulse was to tell a joke, some throwaway line about being the next best thing to a god, a line she’d prop up with confidence and a smile. But something made her answer honestly. Perhaps it was Kyra’s skin touching hers, or how close Kyra was standing, or her sudden certainty that Kyra would see right through anything less than the truth, that made her say, “I am far from perfect.”

Kyra smiled gently. She released her grip on Kassandra’s armor, but instead of pulling her hand away, she set her palm against the center of the chestplate. “Maybe so,” she said, “but I like what I’ve seen.”

Kassandra knew the layer of bronze between Kyra’s hand and her chest had made the gesture safe enough to be possible, but it didn’t stop her from cursing her armor for being there, for separating Kyra’s skin from hers. And worse still, she had no idea what Kyra wanted; Kyra’s eyes were studying her intently but gave no hint of the conclusions being drawn behind them. She let the moment stretch as long as she could bear, before she put on a smile and said, “Am I free to go?”

The hand on her armor jerked away as Kyra returned from wherever she’d gone to tally up Kassandra’s measure. She flushed and looked everywhere but Kassandra’s eyes. “We should probably get moving.”

“Yes,” Kassandra said agreeably, cradling the amphora of wine as she let Kyra lead the way through the forest. It wasn’t long before they reached a game trail that made travel far more easier than hacking their way through the underbrush.

Kyra picked up a long, straight stick from the side of the trail and began using it to skewer leaves on bushes and trees as she passed. Her aim was unfailingly accurate, and her wrist moved with such precision that she made very little noise, just the stick whipping through the air and the quiet thhk of leaves plucked from branches. Eventually, she said, “I learned this game from the huntresses at the Temple of Artemis.”

“My mother taught me one like it in Sparta. All we needed was a stick and a pine tree covered in cones.” Sometimes the game was to knock all the cones off as fast as possible. Other times it was to touch all the cones without making any fall. A game of coordination and muscle control, eyes to arm to wrist, skills useful when wielding a sword, or dagger, or javelin. Even the games of children served a greater purpose in Sparta.

“Do all Spartan women know how to fight?” Kyra switched from stabbing to parrying, her stick striking each branch with a solid thwack.

“My mother does.” Present tense was the hopeful tense. “But she’s an exception. Most Spartan women just learn the basics of hand-to-hand. The real combat training is reserved for men.”

“How did you learn?”

“My parents taught me the fundamentals. They start early in Sparta, as soon as a child can walk. But I wasn’t there long enough to learn how to fight like a true Spartan.”

Kyra’s stick hand hesitated, but if she had a question, she didn’t ask.

Kassandra wanted her to keep talking. “Did the huntresses also teach you to shoot a bow?”

“They did. I think they harbored secret hopes I’d join them one day.”

“As accurate as you are, I’m not surprised. So why didn’t you?”

“I’ve only wanted one thing in this life: to kill Podarkes with my own hands. Vengeance has left little room for anything else.” The thwacking was louder now, her stick hitting the limbs and branches with more force.

“What will you do once he’s dead and the rebellion is won?”

Kyra stopped walking. She waited until Kassandra drew up next to her, and said, “The sad truth is I have no idea.”

Kyra was a glimpse of Kassandra’s future. She knew she’d already let her search for her mother all but swallow her whole, while the vengeance she planned to take out on the Cult merely sat there, waiting its turn. And when she thought of what she would do after every Cultist was dead, she saw nothing but a vast and empty space. “I’m beginning to think we have much in common.”

“Is that so? And what would that be?”

“I know what it’s like to be driven by an overwhelming need, and I’ve had to fight and claw for everything I have. Seems to me you’ve done the same.”

“We should probably compare notes sometime.”

“I’ll bring the wine.”

“Along with a great many tales, I’m sure. But what will I bring?”

The question was a trap. Kassandra made a show of thinking about her answer, then resumed walking up the path without saying anything. After a few steps, she turned around and said, “Your bow… And yourself, I guess.”

“You guess? You sure know how to—” Kyra didn’t finish.

“How to what?”

“Nothing,” she muttered. Perhaps she was catching on to how much Kassandra enjoyed needling her. “What do you want with my bow?”

“I have some questions.”

“Such as?”

“Find some time for us to compare notes. Then you’ll find out.” Just an evening with Kyra was all she wanted, someplace safe, where they didn’t have to worry about Athenian patrols, or the rest of the world for that matter, where they could trade questions and she could find out the things about Kyra she wanted to know: how she’d escaped from Podarkes as a child, how she’d learned to throw a knife like that, how she’d gotten that scar on her forehead. The answers would fit together like tiles in a mosaic. The full picture was what she wanted to see.

And maybe she’d even be able to figure out if Kyra wanted anything from her.

.oOo.

They were crossing the forested hillside above the Sanctuary of Apollo when Kassandra caught the scent in the breeze. She stopped moving and breathed in deeply. There it was: metallic and cloying and all too familiar. “Do you smell that?” she asked Kyra, dropping her voice to a whisper.

“Smell what?”

“Blood.”

Kyra shook her head.

Kassandra placed the wine in a hollow between the roots of a nearby tree and drew her spear. The scent was faint, and she began moving across the wind, turning as the wind shifted, narrowing down the direction of its source. Kyra followed close behind; alert, but mainly curious.

The scent had to be coming from a pile of boulders and exposed rock in the slope up ahead, the pile about as far away as a good javelin throw. Kassandra headed in its direction, picking her way carefully through the thick underbrush, and soon her hunch was confirmed: there, on the ground, was a drop of blood. It had been there long enough to turn the dark red of garnet but hadn’t yet begun to dry. She pointed at it with her spear, and Kyra nodded wordlessly and drew her sword. Another few steps forward revealed more blood, some trailing northwards, the rest leading up to the rocks.

They were close enough now that Kassandra could hear labored breathing and the faint sounds of something moving between the boulders. She readied her spear, then felt Kyra change course behind her, turning back to see Kyra begin climbing up the hillside on a path that would let her flank whoever — or whatever — was hidden nearby.

Kassandra rounded the boulder and found a woman leaning against the rocks, her tunic stained dark red, her bloody hand brandishing a dagger.

Kassandra held out a hand, and said, “I mean no threat.”

The hand holding the dagger dropped, and the woman slumped as if exhausted by the effort. She wore an eyepatch, and her good eye stared at Kassandra. The eyepatch wasn’t new, but the wound at her belly certainly was. “Come to turn me in to the priests?”

Kassandra knelt outside the woman’s dagger range and said, “Depends on what you’ve done.”

“Don’t know if anyone told you, but it’s illegal to spill blood on this gods-forsaken island.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“Shame nobody told the beast roaming around.”

“Beast?”

“I’d call it a bear, but I’d be lying. It’s a nightmare sent by Artemis.”

“How’d you run into it?”

Kyra’s voice sounded from the rocks above them. “I’d bet good drachmae that she smuggled it here.” There was a blur and a thump as she leapt down and landed next to Kassandra. “You’re awful far from home, aren’t you stranger? And giant bears don’t just appear on Delos.” Her tone was frosty, as if she’d summoned Boreas himself into every word.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the woman said.

Kyra crossed her arms. “We’re wasting our time here, misthios.”

There was something about the icy edge to Kyra’s voice that told Kassandra to play along. “Agreed,” she said, getting ready to stand.

“Misthios? Wait, wait. Look. You’re right,” the woman said, nodding at Kyra. “We were smuggling the bear. To Kos. But Poseidon had other ideas — sent a storm that smashed our ship upon this damn island, and that evil beast broke loose. It went right for the crew.” She grimaced with pain and looked at Kassandra. “They were my family, and I’ll pay you good drachmae to put that bear down before it kills anyone else.”

“At the rate you’re bleeding, you’re not going to live long enough to pay me,” Kassandra said. She glanced at Kyra. “Are physicians illegal here too?”

“No, but the ones here are living on the edge, that’s for sure.” She gestured to the woman. “We could take her to the camp. There’s a healer there.”

“Let’s go, then.” Kassandra pulled one of the woman’s arms across her shoulder, and Kyra did the same with the other, and together they lifted the woman to her feet.

“What’s your name?” Kyra asked.

“Iola,” she said, in between panting breaths. “My gratitude to you both.”

“Thank us once we reach camp,” Kyra said. “It’s a long way over rough ground, and you’ll be cursing us most of the trip.”

It wasn’t long before her words proved to be true.

.oOo.

Barnabas was waiting for them at the camp, and he hurried over as soon as he saw they’d brought an extra person with them. He helped Kassandra ease Iola onto a cot while Kyra hurried off to summon the healer. “I’m glad you’re back,” he said. “I was beginning to get worried.”

“We burned the weapons to ash. But it was slow going on the way back.” She looked at Iola. The woman’s eyes were closed, her skin nearly white.

“And who is this?” he asked.

“Captain of a smuggling ship run aground. Got mauled by a bear that escaped from her cargo and ate the rest of her crew.”

He glanced around, as if expecting the bear to jump out from the bushes at any moment. “And where is this bear?”

“I’m going hunting for it shortly.” And she would, after she took a few moments to rest and work out the kinks in her shoulder after carrying a load upon it over hill after rocky hill. She also needed something to eat.

He looked relieved. “The Adrestia’s ready to depart at any time.”

“Good. While I’m gone, make sure she” — a nod to Iola — “makes it on board the ship. We’re taking her back to Mykonos with us.”

“Aye, Captain.”

She wandered away, then, but not before she heard him kneel beside Iola’s cot and begin murmuring, “Great Asklepios, I beseech you, hear my prayer…”

.oOo.

Some time later, after Kassandra had eaten, and gone through her armor piece by piece to ensure it was ready for the next fight, she sat with her legs straddling a wooden bench, drawing the blade of her spear across a whetstone.

The steady shhshht of metal against stone was soothing. She’d realized something earlier, as her fingers had brushed over her chestplate looking for dents and damaged hinges: she hadn’t felt any pleasure killing the men in the Athenian camp that morning. There was satisfaction, yes, in accomplishing what they’d set out to do, but none of the warmth, or the silky, sensual delight that followed every time she killed. There was also none of the craving for more blood, and none of the queasiness from coming off the murderous high. There’d been no high to come down from.

She wondered what had made this morning different from all the days that had come before.

Her hand trembled, upsetting the course of the spear and disrupting her rhythm. She stopped sharpening, and breathed in and out, deeply, until her hands became steady again and she could resume sliding blade over stone. What had been different this morning?

Footsteps behind her, someone light and quiet. She didn’t turn around to look.

Kyra’s voice floated over her shoulder. “The healer says Iola will probably survive. She stitched her up and gave her something to knock her out. She’s not happy you want to move Iola onto your ship, but Barnabas wasn’t hearing any of that.”

Kassandra smirked as she imagined his ire, but the strokes of her blade remained constant.

“He’s keeping watch over Iola,” Kyra said. There was silence for several moments, then: “He’s a good man.”

“He is. One of the very few in Greece.”

Another silence. “We left the wine up in the forest.”

“I’ll get it on my way back.”

“So you’re going after the bear. By yourself.”

Kassandra lifted the spear and began testing its edge with the pad of her thumb, checking for nicks that had escaped her efforts.

“The bear that just killed an entire shipload of hunters and smugglers. Sometimes I wonder if you’re just confident, or if you have a death wish.”

“Yes, it’s a miracle I’ve survived this long.” She picked up a scrap of linen and began polishing the blade with it.

“If I offer my help, will you refuse it?”

“Looking for a cut of some drachmae?”

“I don’t care about the drachmae.”

Kassandra put the cloth down. “This isn’t your fight, and I wasn’t going to assume you’d want to take part. But if you want to help… I won’t refuse you.” She tilted the blade, caught Kyra’s reflection in its bright surface before she rested it across her knee. She chose her words carefully. “I’ve enjoyed our work together.”

Kyra moved closer, and she curved her hand against the base of Kassandra’s neck, holding onto it as she leaned into Kassandra’s shoulder. Kassandra closed her eyes, stopping herself from her want, and a surge of anticipation coursed through her body and across her skin, as if she were standing in a storm, holding her breath while the air charged around her and the hair on the back of her neck stood up, holding on as she waited for the strike of lightning. But Kassandra didn’t know if she should be anticipating Zeus’s fury or something else entirely. Then Kyra’s voice slid across her ear and brought her back to here and now. “So have I, Kassandra,” she said. There was a smile in her voice, and perhaps something more. “I’ll get my bow.”

And then she withdrew her hand, breaking contact, her footsteps fading in the air, leaving Kassandra’s skin tingling and her heart rumbling in her chest like distant thunder. No, she wasn’t going to be able to stop herself for very much longer.

Part of the Elegiad. Go back to the previous story, or on to the next...

#kassandra #kyssandra #ac odyssey #this fic kicked my ass a bit #oh kyra where art thou?#i've spent 55k words in kass's head but kyra's voice is proving elusive #this is also half the plot i intended to cover #we might be in the silver islands a LONG time #i even struggled with the title #it literally came to me 5 minutes before i posted it #elegiad

9 notes · View notes