#we also wound up doing the prison break (which is an entire post of its own) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cdroloisms · 3 years

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Dream tried to stop Wil from creating L'Manburg, Phil tried to stop him from blowing it up, BOTH value people over items and builds, Phil has said that they're replaceable but people aren't, Dream traded spirit for his best friends fishes (we kno he's not someone to talk abt feelings:[) BOTH were kind and selfless but used by almost if not everyone, BOTH were ready to be THE VILLAINS if it meant everyone else could live better after. ONE of them always had someone there, ONE didn't. Intentional?

aaaa sorry for the really inconsistent posts ,, im gonna try to post a little more in the next few days. i have a few things written up, so look out for them? maybe? for now, have this *gestures vaguely* thing ,, it’s kinda a mess but *shrug*

phil is such a fun character, anon, especially for all the reasons that you mentioned in the ask!! he’s a really fun character with a lot of complexities that go (sadly) overlooked by a large portion of the fandom, but he’s super cool even tho i havent analyzed him too much. hope you enjoy (and i hope my interpretation of c!phil isnt too ooc lmao)

tw: mentioned blood, injury, implied torture/abuse, starvation, trauma, mentioned death, prison arc/pandora’s vault

When Techno first brings Dream back from the prison, Phil doesn’t quite know what to think.

“I don’t trust him either,” Techno assures him, but there’s a flickering anger in the backs of his eyes, one that had emerged ever since he came back from the prison with the other man in his arms, and Phil knows his friend well enough to know that the words are empty in the face of the piglin hybrid’s particular brand of to-the-death loyalty. He shakes his head in reply, refusing to voice his thoughts for Techno’s sake, at least, but the look that the other slants at him suggests that he’s caught onto them all the same.

At first, the work is thankfully mindless; even if Phil has reservations on the man that Techno has more or less dumped into his house, he would hardly wish the clear suffering he’s been through on anyone. The first few days pass in a flurry of brewing potions, wrapping and rewrapping dressings, stitching up cuts and setting broken bones straight. The damage is extensive; Phil has to take more than a few breaks to just leave the house and breathe - he’s far from a stranger to blood and carnage, had received the title of ‘Angel of Death’ for a reason, but even he had never been particularly familiar with this form of cruelty. Torture was a level of violence that extended beyond what even he was willing to bestow - his hands may have caused many deaths, and the weight of each one would continue to haunt him for the rest of his life, but even those had the mercy of being a quick end. The wounds and scars that ripple over Dream’s skin, thin and stretched tightly over his bones with little muscle and fat left to cushion them, speak of horrors that were anything but merciful.

“I didn’t know they were capable of all of this,” Techno says, once, as they huddle of Dream, wringing towels in cold water to wipe his feverish skin. Techno’s hand reaches for the ribboning gold-filled scars that remain from the execution - carefully, Phil raises his hand to let his fingertips brush over them as well. “I mean, I knew he was dangerous and all, but-”

“I know, mate,” Phil looks back at Dream’s face, tight even in unconsciousness, at the darkened, hand-shaped bruises that remain around his throat, at the scar that runs over his left eye, clearly meant to mirror the same one that makes its way down the duck hybrid’s own face. “You said that Quackity and Sam were working together?”

“Yeah,” Techno’s expression darkens, eyes focused somewhere on the wall, seemingly very far away. He said that nothing happened to him in the prison, and he seemed relatively unharmed when Phil activated the stasis chamber, but ever since he came back, sometimes he’ll have moments, and Phil can’t help but - wonder. “Quackity does the dirty work, Sam gives him the way in and out, probably also the tools to do it. It’s-” he huffs a short, self-recriminating laugh. “It’s bad, Phil.”

“Mate-”

Techno shoots him a look, and Phil cringes, knowing already that he’d used the wrong tone. Even with the execution, Techno had been adamant to hide all traces of his own terror and fear away from him, masking it all with fury for Phil’s own sake. He knows, just from the way his old friend looks at the ribboning scars that remain sometimes, that he is far from as over the whole ordeal as he acts, but Techno never wants to talk and Phil never knows the right time to ask and they smooth it all behind plans and explosions and hope that the TNT can blow apart the trauma, too. He’s got a sneaking suspicion that the same thing is going to happen, here.

“As soon as we can,” Techno starts again, pointedly shifting his eyes away from Phil’s face, “we’re calling a Syndicate meeting to figure out what we’re going to do about the prison. Like- come on, man, you couldn’t make a more transparent abuse of institutional power if you tried, really-” he looks over, uncharacteristic uncertainty warring over his features. “If you think that’s good, I mean-“

“Of course, mate.” Phil’s voice softens. “Whenever you’re ready.”

‘Whenever he’s ready,’ as it turns out, is easier said than done, becoming even more evident when their charge wakes up from his days long spell of unconsciousness. The worst of his injuries have, under their careful care and the benefit of many potions, healed enough to no longer directly threaten his life, but the vast majority have quite some time to go before being healed completely. Being as the goal was torture and not death, most of his injuries weren’t made to be life-threatening, but rather to cause as much pain as possible - from the grimace that twists Dream’s face when he struggles to force himself awake, they’re doing their jobs.

“Hey, mate, slow down,” Phil murmurs, pressing the man down by his shoulder when Dream weakly tries to push himself up and off the bed, and his struggling only lasts for a few more minutes before he gives up and slumps against his pillow, eyes cracking open and seeming surprisingly lucid.

“Where-“ his voice is wrecked, and Phil reaches for the glass of water at the bedside as Dream coughs. “Where am I?”

“You’re at Techno’s house,” Dream’s eyes widen and then slip closed as he processes the information, a wrinkle forming between his eyebrows as they knit together. “We broke you out, after Techno escaped with a stasis chamber with your book. Do you remember?”

Dream gnaws on his bottom lip. “Um- yeah. I think.” His head turns as his eyes crack open again- “Techno-“

“He’s out, right now. He’ll be back in a bit.”

“Oh.” Dream falls back into the bed, strength seemingly sapped from the short conversation. His breathing stutters, then steadies. “Okay.”

Recovery is slow. Phil doesn’t actually find himself seeing the man very often; now that he doesn’t need around-the-clock care anymore, he’s moved back into his own house, letting Techno do most of the work when it comes to rehabilitating the escaped convict crashing at his house. As he begins to spend more of his time awake and aware, he brings a whole slew of new problems; Phil catches him screaming one day, blurting harsh, angry words as Techno reads, unbothered from the other side of the room, and he stops in his tracks standing awkwardly in the doorway.

“Um-“ he winces when Dream curses, smashes something against the floor, and then curls into himself at the sound. Techno doesn’t even flinch. “Am I interrupting something?”

Dream stomps away, face flushed, arms wrapped around himself. Techno raises an eyebrow.

“You lookin’ for something, Phil?” he asks, and the unpleasant knot in Phil’s chest refuses to unwind.

The episodes, unfortunately, don’t seem to get much better. Though he’s rarely outright violent, Dream looks constantly murderous, usually muttering underneath his breath about something or another while he stalks the grounds of Techno’s house. It’s not too long before Techno sends him out to work around the house instead of just moping within the cottage, which also means that Phil sees him a lot more - tending to a small farm behind the house, feeding the dogs, hacking away at mobs, and usually complaining the entire time. It’s unnerving, even as injured and unarmored as the man is, to see him walking around like this; despite his rather pathetic appearance, swamped in sweaters that dwarf him thoroughly and thin enough to look like the slightest breeze will knock him over, his eyes are flinty and intelligent and bubble with promises of revenge.

“FUCK!” Phil turns to see him slamming a shovel into the snow, stomping away into the woods, and his hands tighten around his cup of tea. Next to him, Techno shrugs.

“Nerd’s got a few issues,” he drawls, and Phil laughs shortly.

“That seems like an understatement.”

“He’ll ease up in time,” Techno sounds surprisingly confident, completely content despite the muffled curses that come from the woods next to them. He’s probably used to it, with Chat and all, but Phil can’t quite seem to find the same calm.

“I just don’t know, mate,” Phil shakes his head. “You sure having him around is the best idea? He doesn’t seem...stable.”

Techno looks up at him over the rim of his cup of coffee. His head tilts, considering, but there’s a small smile on his face that tells Phil that Techno, inexplicably, doesn’t share the same sentiments. There was always a part of him that was, for the lack of a better word, softer than the rest of the server for his self-proclaimed rival, a sort of understanding that Phil could hardly hope (nor would really want to) understand.

“Don’t worry, Phil, if he tries anything I can always just tie him up in the attic or something,” Phil huffs a small laugh, amused, and nods to concede the point. “And- well, call it intuition. You could really try talkin’ to him, you know. He reminds me of you, sometimes.”

The words stick in his head despite his best efforts, rattling in his skull when he tries to sleep, lingering when he catches glimpses of the green-clothed man stalking around their properties. He can’t imagine what would’ve prompted his old friend to make the comparison, can’t think of a single thing (besides their affinity for the color green) that would mark him as similar to the - from what he’s heard - deranged menace with a particular penchant for destruction (not that his rants and fits of anger are doing anything to correct that impression). Even so, Techno had sounded so sure when he’d made the comparison, the words offhand like he’d thought them a million times before, like it was a simple observation that held no more weight than commenting on the color of the sky. Phil watches as Dream lugs a pile of logs behind him, huffing at one of Techno’s dogs that comes to chase and nip at his feet and grumbling loudly before faceplanting into the snow. He just...can’t see it.

Days later, Wilbur comes to visit, a grin on his lips as he dramatically recounts his newest exploit: a nation by Las Nevadas, a supposed safe haven away from the glitter and glory of Quackity’s city; it sounds brilliant, it sounds lovely, and more than anything it sounds stupid, and Phil tells him as such immediately.

“You’re being reckless,” he rants at his son, wings flaring outwards and only barely noticing Dream watching from the corner of his eye, “What are you doing- picking fights with Quackity? Starting another nation- didn’t you see what happened to the first two you made? You’re going to get yourself killed, Wil!”

“Well, I’ve already seen what’s on the other side of death, and it’s really not that bad-“

“You’re my son!” The words are angrier than Phil would’ve liked, and he knows that he looks ridiculous and overbearing, criticizing the actions of his fully grown son, but all he can see is Wilbur’s face, slack with pain and grief, stained with ash and soot as his eyes flutter to half-mast in the midst of the rubble of a country he loved and destroyed and destroyed him in turn. “I can’t lose you again, Wil!”

Wilbur doesn’t quite storm out, but it’s a near thing, leaving with a clipped goodbye and leaving Phil seething on his doorstep. He spends the rest of the night pacing around the house in a sort of mad frenzy, wings stretching and folding over and over. Not for the first time, he longs for the sky, to feel the air through his wings and let the world fall into pinpricks below him; it’s this that leads him to the roof of his house, staring stubbornly at the clouds as the sun sinks down to the horizon.

“Hey.”

Phil startles; there, down below him, is Dream. He rocks back on his heels, seeming awkward, before clambering up the wall (Phil rolls his eyes at the ease with which he scales it, the feeling in his chest almost fond) and settling himself on the shingles at Phil’s side.

“Hey, mate,” Phil shakes his head. The fondness leaves, and the irritation that had risen at Wilbur’s words, earlier, comes back full-force. “Sorry- Wil came to visit, we talked. I just needed some time to think.”

Dream hums in acknowledgement, and they fall into a comfortable silence, watching as the sun dipping down past the mountains in the distance.

“You know,” Dream starts, sudden, “I told him the same thing.” He looks up at Phil, eyes faraway with old memories. “Wilbur, I mean. When he made L’manburg- I told him he was being reckless.” He shrugs. “I guess he never listened.”

Phil pauses, Techno’s words ringing in his ears. He reminds me of you, sometimes.

Dream looks surprisingly normal up close - face no longer reddened with fever or pale from blood loss, even the scars fail to really take from the boyishness of his face. He bites his lips, eyes falling away at Phil’s scrutiny, golden blond hair flopping over his forehead, newly trimmed to be something a little closer to his old length, at least in the front, the back pulled into a small ponytail. He’s young, and shockingly awkward, teeth worrying his lip, hands fiddling with each other, shifting his weight from one foot to the other several times a minute. He looks like a kid.

“He never does,” Phil lets himself smile, watches as Dream smiles back, almost like they’re sharing a joke. He wonders how well he really knows the man behind the mask. “Want to come in for some tea?”

Dream smiles wider, and something old and worn in Phils chest, knocked loose ever since he felt his son fall limp in his arms with his own sword shoved between his ribs, falls back into place.

“That would be great,” Dream replies, the words almost hopeful, and they go inside.

#tw trauma #tw death #tw blood #tw injury #tw torture #tw abuse #tw starvation #prison arc #pandora's vault #-> my writing #my writing :D #my asks !!#-> my asks

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marauderundercover · 3 years

Text

Taking Chances Ch. 16: Summertime Nightmares (Alt prompt: Consolation/advice)

AO3

The following week was the last of the school year. And it was...weird to say the least. Some of her classmates were upset that she hadn’t been the one to tell them. Many of them (most) assumed that she’d known and just hadn’t told them. She didn’t want to argue with them and she knew her dad hadn’t announced her existence in Gotham yet, so she just pointed out the fact that the Wayne family was very private.

That mostly worked. Lila kept poking though, insisting that Marinette would have told them if she trusted them. Nino disagreed, which shocked Marinette. He usually believed Lila, or at least he hadn’t ever openly gone against her before. But not this time. This time, he insisted that Marinette trusted them and it was probably her dad who asked her not to say anything. While wrong, Marinette didn’t disagree. She’d let her dad take the fall for this one. Alya though...she wasn’t taking it well. She thought Marinette should have told her ages ago. If she had known before Lila came, maybe she would have told Alya. But Alya had been more lax on what she posts on the Ladyblog since Lila’s arrival. She’d done less research, and was posting things not related to Ladybug and Chat Noir. While that wouldn’t usually bother her, Marinette did not want her newly discovered family to be the next big story on Alya’s blog.

So she basically just kept her head down, kept quiet at the class hangouts. And now school was finally out for the summer. It would be a little over two months with no Lila. Breathing out a sigh of relief, Marinette walks into the bakery and smiles widely at her Maman and Papa.

“Hello honey, how are you?” Her Maman asks, sliding a croissant into her hands.

“I’m fine, Maman.” She says, mentally preparing herself to ask what she’d been avoiding. Her dad had offered to let her stay in Gotham for the summer. It was both a chance to bond, and a chance for him to train her a little so that she could fight better, help her make a case against Hawkmoth, maybe even find his identity. He also wanted to give her a break. He thought that taking a step away from Paris, from always policing her emotions, was in her best interest. She agreed, but she still hadn’t talked to her Maman. Or her Papa.

“Bruce called.” Her Papa says. Marinette freezes. He wasn’t supposed to call yet! “Asked if we’d made a decision about letting you go to Gotham for the summer.” Rats.

“I was gonna talk to you guys today! I didn’t wanna upset you. I love you guys so much, but I also really wanna spend time with the other half of my family because I just met them and we haven’t really had a chance to bond or get to know each other and-”

“Honey, we understand.” Her Maman says, cutting off her ramble with a smile. Marinette blinks.

“Really?” She asks in a small voice. She didn’t want to hurt them. Her Maman smiles and relief floods her body.

“Of course honey. It would also give you a chance to not deal with constant akuma attacks.” She says. Marinette squeals in excitement, running over and wrapping her parents in a hug.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” She yells. Watch out Gotham, Marinette Dupain-Cheng Wayne is coming back!

---

“Why hasn’t Marinette answered yet? She’s always down for a class picnic.” Alya says with a pout. Lila suppresses an eye roll, opting instead for a worried frown.

“Do you think she’s mad at you?” She prompts, knowing exactly why the little brat wasn’t answering. She was supposed to be on a plane right about now. Lila had borrowed Alya’s phone the day before (to make sure Marinette hadn’t tried to say anything about her again) when she saw the text. Marinette would be spending the entire summer in Gotham.

Lila, in a moment of what was surely pure excellence, deleted the text. It was perfect! Alya wouldn’t know Marinette had left and Marinette would be waiting for a text from her stupid BFF. But Lila had thought of that too. She’d changed the phone number on Marinette’s contact in Alya’s phone. It was now set to go to a fake number in a messaging app that Lila spent €1 on each month. It was worth it though, it’d definitely come in handy before. And now all she had to do was wait. Sure Marinette could always text Alya first, but Lila had heard too many times that Alya usually reached out first. Probably because of how much of a scatterbrain Marinette is.

“Why would she be mad at me?” Alya asks with a nervous smile. Hook, line and sinker. Lila frowns and places a hand on Alya’s arm in a faux attempt at reassurance.

“I didn’t wanna say anything, I really shouldn’t.” She says, shaking her head.

“Please. I’ll owe you one!” Alya insists, just as Lila had hoped. This would be a key part of her plan later on. Once Marinette has been silent for a few weeks.

“Well...okay. I heard her talking to Adrien the other day.” Lil starts, using the only other person who could go against her (but won’t!) “She said- she said she couldn’t trust you!” Alya flinches back as if she was hit.

“She said that?” She asks in a small voice. Lila nods sadly, celebrating on the inside. She’d be able to use this summer, while Marinette is away, to finally take everything away from that no good brat. It would be glorious.

---

Marinette was moments away from committing a murder. She was only going to do it because she knew for a fact that she’d get away with it. With a singular pout, she’d have the world’s greatest detective on her side. She was certain of it.

“Miss Marinette please put down the knife. I assure you prison is not lovely this time of year.” Alfred says with a sigh as he walks into the kitchen.

“Then tell Dick to get out of the kitchen!” She complains, pointing at her oldest brother who was currently covered in frosting and flour. She was trying to make cupcakes for after dinner, since she knew how much Dick likes sweets. She was trying to do something nice. And when Dick came into the kitchen, claiming he just wanted to spend time with his baby sister, Marinette let him stay. Because she loves her brother, she does.

But somehow in the two minutes that he was in the kitchen, he managed to dump the entire canister of flour. Not good, but she’d already baked the cupcakes so it wasn’t the end of the world. But then somehow, he’d managed to dump the entire mixing bowl of frosting. The entire thing. She had no clue how he had managed to do that, considering the fact it was frosting. It didn’t exactly run smoothly out of a bowl. It’s supposed to be able to hold its shape. Honestly, it was a mystery.

“Master Dick, you know that you are not allowed in the kitchen.” Alfred says with a frown. Dick pouts.

“I just wanted to spend some time with Mari.” He mumbles. Marinette almost regrets wanting to kill him. Until she watches as he wipes some of the frosting off of his head and eats it. Yeah, she doesn’t regret it anymore...but she does still love him.

“Okay, we’ll definitely have to spend more time together later. But for right now please go take a shower or something. I need to make more frosting and I do not trust you to be in the room when I do.” Marinette says exasperatedly. Dick sighs but leaves. Marinette puffs out her cheeks, giving Alfred a look.

“Yes?” He asks, his lips quirked up slightly.

“I honestly don’t know how you deal with them sometimes.” She grumbles before grabbing a new bowl. The cupcakes aren’t going to decorate themselves.

---

Jason huffs, annoyed that he’d been talked into staying at the manor with Marinette. He wasn’t mad at Marinette, he would do just about anything for the kid. Didn’t mean he wanted to stay at the manor just to make sure she didn’t sneak onto patrol. She’d assured them that she was too tired to try anything, but Bruce hadn’t believed her. Thus, Jason stuck at the manor.

But the kid had made a shit ton of cupcakes and Jason had a copy of his favorite book, so the night wouldn’t be too bad. After a few hours lounging in one of the rooms near Marinette’s, Jason starts to nod off. He’s about to welcome the rest, knowing everyone would be back from patrol soon, when he’s yanked from sleep by an ear piercing scream. Shit.

---

Marinette blinks as she looks around. Oh god. No, no please don’t let this be real. She chokes out a sob as she looks around her. Paris was once again completely underwater. The Eiffel tower was split in half. Hands shaking, she glances up and sees the moon. Or, what’s left of it. She moans in distress, letting her tears fall freely. She tries to breathe, but it won’t come. She’s panicking now, trying to ignore the burn in her chest as she sees the disaster around her. The terror around her. The destruction. She clutches her throat, trying to force her body to breathe. Force herself to suck in air, to be okay.

“Oh, Marinette, I see you’ve decided to join us again.” A familiar voice says. She tenses, slowly turning and looking behind her. Standing in front of her, just as she remembered him, was Chat Blanc. She should’ve known. She should’ve known that just because it was okay for a couple days didn’t mean it would stay okay. She should’ve tried harder to find Bunnix, should’ve tried to find a way to stop Adrien from finding out. Movement by Chat Blanc’s feet catches her attention and she glances down, regretting it immediately.

“What have you done?” She asks, rushing forward and falling to her knees, desperately trying to stop her little brother from bleeding out. “What have you done?” She yells, glaring at Chat Blanc through her tears. Her hands shake as she puts pressure on the wound, using Damian’s cape in an attempt to stop the blood.

“Marinette-” He tries to say, and she just shakes her head, hating that there’s blood coming out of his mouth. She knows what that means. She knows that this is bad. And there are no hospitals anymore. Everything is underwater. Everything except the three of them.

“Hey no, it’s okay. It’s gonna be okay, I’ve got you little brother.” She chokes out, trying to smile at him.

“Father,” He manages to say, his voice barely audible. “Help him.”

“No, no, please. Please don’t leave me! Please, no, no!” She screams, trying to wake him back up, trying to force him to get back up. He couldn’t die like this. He couldn’t die at all. She just found him. And now she’s lost him.

“Now we can be together forever Marinette.” Chat Blanc says, finally speaking up. She glares at him and his stupid smirk. The smirk that had haunted her since the first time she saw the white suit.

“I don’t want anything to do with you! You killed my brother!” She screams. Glancing down at her shaking hands, she can’t help but notice they’re covered in blood. She shudders, trying hard not to throw up.

“Brothers, actually.” He quips. She snaps her gaze back to him.

“What?” She hisses, standing so that she can hopefully run and get to one of her brothers before it’s too late. She can’t lose all of them. She can’t. He casually steps to the side, revealing her other brothers. But none of them are moving. Cass is also lying with them, but she’s not moving either. Gone. All of her siblings. And it was all her fault. She let Adrien know her identity. She didn’t try to fix that mistake and this is what happened. She lost every- her dad. Damian said- She turns and runs away from Chat Blanc, scanning the horizon and trying to stay as together as possible. She had to try. She could still save her dad. She could still help him. As she looks around, she manages to spot his cowl. Rushing towards it, she lets out a sigh of relief.

“Marinette?” He says, looking at her with a frown. She scans him for injuries, relieved that he just had a few small wounds. Nothing that couldn’t be fixed.

“I’m so sorry dad.” She whimpers, throwing her arms around him. He holds her for a moment before pulling away.

“Marinette, we have to go. We can’t stay here. It’s only a matter of time before-” He stops talking and his face morphs into the most horrified, anguish filled face that Marinette had ever seen. Right before he starts to crumble into ash.

“No!” She screams, horror and grief washing over her in waves. She was all alone and it was all her fault. And now she was going to die too.

---

“Come on Pixie, wake up kid. Come on, it’s okay, I’m here. Jay’s here.” A familiar voice soothes. Marinette stops thrashing, coughing slightly as she realizes the loud noise had been coming from her. She’d been screaming. Jay’s here? But then- She immediately opens her eyes, sobbing in relief when she sees Jason looking at her. No blood. Okay. She lunges forward and wraps her arms around him, sobbing into his chest.

“I’m sorry.” She cries. “I’m so sorry.”

“Oh kid, you don’t have to be sorry. It’s okay. You’re okay.” He whispers, holding her close. They sit like that for a few minutes, until a knock on the door frame makes her reluctantly pull back. She glances over and a new wave of tears immediately appears. She launches herself off the bed and runs into her dad’s arms, sobbing once more.

“Jason, what happened?” He asks quietly, she knows that Jason doesn’t know, but she doesn’t answer for him. She can’t. All she can do is cry in her dad’s arms, relieved that she could cry. That her nightmare didn’t end with her almost being akumatized like it had before.

“No clue. Heard her scream so I ran in here, but she was asleep. Once she woke up she started crying and apologizing.” Jason says softly, probably for her benefit. She tries hard to remind herself that the nightmare didn’t mean anything. Her family wouldn’t be hurt because of her.

“Is everyone okay? Damian and Tim and Dick?” She asks, still buried in her dad’s arms. She’d ask about Cass, but she was still in Hong Kong. Marinette made a mental note to text her later.

“Everyone’s fine. Did you- do you want to talk about it?” He asks, and she almost agrees. Maybe it would be better to finally tell someone about Chat Blanc. To share that burden with someone else. But...maybe not her dad. Especially not since Adrien actively knows her identity and she wouldn’t be opposed to dating the boy in the future.

“I- er, um.” is all she manages to say before shaking her head. She won’t talk to her dad about this, and she doesn’t want to leave his arms right now. Not while she feels safe. She can almost hear him whispering to Jason, but she knows he’s trying not to let her hear, so she ignores them and instead wraps her arms around him tighter.

“Can I go get you a glass of water? Maybe a cookie for Tikki?” Her dad asks after a few moments of whispering with Jason. Marinette frowns. She didn’t want to be left alone. Not yet.

“I’ll stay with ya Pixie Pop.” Jason says, almost as if he had read her mind. She nods, giving her dad one final squeeze before walking back over to the bed and climbing up, letting Jason wrap her in a hug.

“I’ll be back in a couple of minutes.” Her dad says before walking away. The silence only lasts a beat.

“You wanna tell your big brother why you woke up screamin’?” He asks. Marinette squeezes her eyes shut, desperate to get rid of the images from her nightmare.

“Nightmare.” She says simply. Jason chuckles.

“Kinda figured that part out Pix.”

“I’ve had it before.” She starts, aware of how her voice shakes. “But this time it was a lot worse. This time, I wasn’t the one who died.”

“What could be worse than dyin?” Jason asks, though she can tell by his tone that he knows. He knows what’s worse than dying.

“Watching all of you die.” She says simply. His hug tightens and she lets out a shaky breath, desperately wiping at her tears. “That’s not even the worst part Jay.”

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t wanna.” He says softly.

“I know.” She says. “A version of it has happened. In a different timeline. That’s the worse part. Luckily when I had to go save that timeline, I didn’t know you guys. So you weren’t caught in the middle of everything. But in my nightmare, since you know about me and- and you guys just wanted to help but no one can win against that. No one. It was so hard to beat him when it actually happened. But the dream. It was awful.” There’s silence as he just holds her, lets her know he’s there without saying it. She’s so thankful for her family. For her brothers.

“Here’s your water.” Her dad says. She finally sits up and looks at him, noting the way his face is creased in worry. She manages a small smile.

“Thanks dad.” She says, her smile growing slightly as his face begins to relax.

“Mari! You’re still up?” Dick says, walking into the room. She blinks at him in confusion, not expecting him to just walk in. She watches as he looks between everyone else, clearly putting it together that something was wrong. He frowns, before his face stretches back into a grin. “Come on, bring all your pillows and blankets and we’ll have a Disney movie marathon until we fall asleep.” He directs, running out of the room to presumably get his own materials for the movie marathon.

“You don’t have to.” Her dad reassures her, laying a gentle hand on her shoulder. She shrugs.

“Might as well. I know I’ll definitely not be able to sleep anymore tonight.” She says, grabbing a couple pillows and her blanket, dragging it with her to the movie room. Leave it to her brothers to have a way to help her feel better after a nightmare. Marinette smiles to herself, once again relieved that she was in Gotham.

Masterlist

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beels-burger-babe · 3 years

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D&D Story Time

@bloopthebat you may be interested in this

So ya'll know how I play D&D? While I had a crazy fucking session tonight, and my roommate is unavailable to rant to, so you guys get to hear it.

I've talked about the Three Cleric Campaign that I'm a part of before. There are three of us, we all play clerics, in a world where gods mostly live amongst us and are our political system as well.

I play Riona, an aasimar order cleric who follows Islina, sun goddess and queen of the pantheon. She's our party's healer

Then there's Taman (Riona's perfect opposite). A human raised by elves, a light cleric who follows the Moon God, a god who has been missing for centuries and is believed to be behind the dark corruption that is slowly killing the world (we only found that out post start of the campaign). He's utilities.

And finally, Thassa. A princess teifling of the Mother of Monsters who is a tempest cleric that follows the sea god Cashoctik (who is neutral in most of the wars that have happened in the lore). She's combat/tank.

ANYWAY! We're in the Mother of Monster's (a demi god) domain on a mission from the Father of Gods to kill her and bring her soul to him to help release him from his prison so that he can save the world from the corruption.

Rather than just go in guns blazing, we know the Mother to be very protective of her children (literally any monster race) and generally quite civil. We go to her, we explain the situation, she's like "Right. You are not the first the Father has sent to do this, and you probably won't be the last. I will let you kill me. But only if you can beat my Champions in battle. Consider it a test of sorts." So for the past few sessions, we've been doing combat and role play in this colosseum against the champions of each of the six children of the Mother: Goblinoids, Yaun-ti, Beast-Men, Orcs, Hags, and finally Demons. (Our DM homebrews a lot of stuff in the best way, so the lore for these races has been changed).

Tonight was our Hag fight and OH FUCKING BOY

All of us were already worried because we've fought hags before. They fuck with your head, and we've all had some recent trauma.

Riona especially.

For context, Riona is currently on the run from her temple (for whom she is seen as the "Marked of Islina", was practically raised by the goddess herself, and is officially a Mother (similar to a nun) of the temple and is the "Head Mother" of the entire orphanage and children care sector). She's been thrown curve ball after curve ball, being told that her goddess committed multiple massacres, imprisoned people, and is overall not always the best person. But then also told that most of those things she did were either with good intention or just cause and was also shown a number of really incredible and compassionate things she's done. So in terms of faith, it's wobbly. Not to mention, she hasn't actually heard from Islina in MONTHS, found out the artifact that her goddess gifted her was a tool for the temple's Cardinals to spy and track her, and that she HAS BEEN LIED TO HER ENTIRE LIFE AND APPARENTLY HAS DIED AND BEEN REINCARNATED SEVERAL TIMES THROUGHOUT HISTORY!

OH YEAH! AND THE LAST TIME SHE SAW THESE HAGS? THEY HAD ONE OF HER PAST LIVES FUCKING TAXIDERMIED IN THEIR OFFICE!!!

*clears throat* So Riona is having a great time.

So we're fighting three hags, and Taman (as usual) nearly dies several times, Riona and Thassa barely have a scratch on them. We kill the first one pretty early in the fight. Riona had to fight the undead corpse of her past life (yay necromancy) due to one of the hags, which was traumatic in its own right since looking in its eyes gave her flashbacks to its memories of its life and its death (which was in the very colosseum we were fighting in). Killed the hag that caused that.

But then there's the last hag. She casts Anti-Gravity, and everything goes to shit.

I won't go into fine details, but basically, since Riona can fly, she wasn't really affected by the spell, so with Taman and Thassa clinging to her leg, she's shooting arrow after arrow at this hag (I got like three nat 20s) and the hag summons this beast thing above us made of wood and bones from the other hags and the remains of Past Life!Riona. Monster thingy grabs Taman and Thassa. Thassa kills the monster thing. Riona grabs the two of them and then kills the hag.

But then Anti-Gravity drops as a result.

Ri (Riona) has everyone pretty sturdily in her arms, so it should be okay. Right?

Wrong.

The branches and sharps pieces of bone and rubble from the monster that had been above us start falling and we're still 90ft in the air held up only by Riona.

Ri fails a dex check to make us all dodge, and I ask the DM if Ri can move her wings so that she takes the brunt of the damage.

DM says if she takes more than 20 damage, she drops Taman and Thassa, and we continue with our house rule of if Riona takes more than 10 damage in one hit to her wings, they're broken until someone heals them.

Riona takes 18 damage.

We're falling. Riona is screaming in pain. Thassa trying to adjust Taman so he won't take any damage if we do fall to our deaths, and Taman is casting guidance on Thassa.

With a 25DC Dex save, with shattered wings, Riona forces herself to push through the pain and catch enough wind under them to slow us down.

Taman casts Cure Wounds on Riona. (The DM describes his magic to be silver with these ghost-like hands that grab, mend, or tear at things depending on the spell. In this case, mid-flight, they were re-setting and mending Riona's wings. The feeling is excruciating and feels wrong as Taman's temple is opposite/enemies with Riona's).

Riona slowly brings them all to the ground.

Just in time to see her Past Life's skull plummet to the ground and with its empty eyes staring into hers, split and shatter.

Riona turned and hid her face in Thassa's shoulder, Thassa pulled Taman into a group hug, and we all stood there, ignoring the audience booing at their champion's defeat, clinging onto each other as we tried to process what we had just gone through.

Deeply traumatized, we're lead to our waiting room to heal and plan before our last fight against the Demon King, the original Demon.

Riona is shell-shocked and finally breaks from just everything she's been put through with her temple and her goddess and this. She's shaking, she's crying silent tears and can't fully bring herself to talk. Taman lays down near where she's sitting, pats her leg and sleepily tries to comfort her. Thassa, after dealing with some of her own shit that went down, grabbed a bowl, sat behind Riona, and gently hummed to her as she wiped down Ri's wings and helped ground her.

This was the closest, most family-like moment our party has ever had.

By my own choice for role play, Riona will not be able to fly for the rest of the day, and from here on out will have to do a Wis save before flying to see if she can actually push herself to do it again.

She's traumatized as fuck and I have no idea what's gonna happen now.

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warrioreowynofrohan · 4 years

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March 15th - A Day of Miracles

This sis something that occurred to me when I was writing today’s instalment of “Today in Tolkien”, but I didn’t have space to discuss it there, so I’m making a separate post. The day of the Battle of the Pelennor Fields is characterized by muraculous events and sudden turns of good fortune, in a way that didn’t become fully clear to me until I looked at the day as a whole. In the style of The Lord of the Rings, many of these are not obviously supernatural, but are understood as miraculous by those who experience them.

Wind

One of the most prominent of the miracles of the day is the change in the wind at precisely the right time, driving back the darkness of Mordor, giving hope to the Rohirrim and to Frodo and Sam, and carrying Aragorn’s fleet up the river. Readers of The Silmarillion will inow that wind is most of all associated with Manwë, the king of the Valar.

The first mentions of the change in the wind are from Ghân-buri-Ghân and the Rohirrim:

But suddenly [Ghân-buri-Ghân] stood looking up like so e startled woodland animal snuffling a strange air. A light came into his eyes. “Wind is changing!” he cried, and with that, in a twinkling as it seemed, he and his fellows had vanished into the glooms, never to be seen by any Rider of Rohan again.

And later, as the Rohirrim draw near to the Pelennor Fields:

“Do you remember the Wild Man’s words, lord?” said another. “I live upon the open Wold in days of peace; Wídfara is my name, and to me also the air brings messages. Already the wind is turning. There comes a breath out of the South; there is a sea-tang in it, faint though it be. The morning will bring new things. Above the reek it will be dawn when you pass the wall.”

As the Rohirrim arrive at the battlefield:

Then suddenly Merry felt it at last, beyond doubt: a change. Wind was in his face! Light was glimmering. Far, far away, in the South the clouds could be dimly seen as remote grey shapes, rolling up, drifting; morning lay beyond them.

And in the charge of the Rohirrim:

For morning came, morning and a wind from the sea; and darkness was removed, and the hosts or Mordor wailed, and terrror took them...

The wind and the change it bring is also anticipated by Legolas aboard the ships of the Corsairs, as Gimli later tells:

“Heavy would my heart have been, for all our victory at the havens, if Legolas had not laughed suddenly. ‘Up with your beard, Durin’s son!’ he said. ‘For thus it is spoken: Oft hope is born, when all is forlorn.’ But what hope he saw from afar he would not tell...At midnight hope was indeed born anew, Sea-crafty men of the Ethir gazing southward spoke of a change coming with a fresh wind from the Sea. Long ere day the masted ships hoisted sail, and our speed grew, until dawn whitened the foam at our prows.

Frodo and Sam, too, see the change:

Light was growing behind them. Slowly it crept towards the North. There was battle far anove in the high spaces of the air. The billowing clouds of Mordor were being driven back, their edges tattering as a wind out of the living world came up and swept the fumes and smokes towards the dark land of their home. Under the lifting skirts of the dreary canopy dim light leaked into Mordor like pale morning through the grimed window of a prison. “Look at it, Mr Frodo!” said Sam. “Look at it! The wind’s changed. Something’s happening. He’s not having it all his own way. His darkness is breaking up in the world there.”

Victory

Eowyn and Merry’s defeat of the Witch-king, though accomplished by thmselves and a great feat, is also percieved as miraculous by many who hear its effects. These two things are not contradictory - the presence of two such unlikely people on the battlefield, in the right time and right place, with the right weapons, in answer to prophecy, does have the air if the miraculous, a miracle accomplished through the intersections of providence with the actions of ordinary people (even as with the later destruction of the Ring; or, earlier, Bilbo’s finding of the Ring, which would not have been posdible if he had not go e with the dwarves in the first place).

Then tottering, struggling up, with her last strength [Éowyn] drove her sword between criwn and mantle, as the great shoulder bowed before her. The sword broke sparkling into many shards. The crown rolled away with a clang. Éowyn fell forward upon her fallen foe.

But lo! the mantle and hauberk were empty. Shapeless they lay now on the ground, torn and tumbled; and a cry went up into the shuddering air, and faded to a shrill wailing, passing with the wind, a voice bodiless and thin that died, and was swallowed up, and was never heard again in that age of the world.

The death of the Nazgûl-lord is heard also in Minas Tirith, and brings hope:

But even as Gandalf and his companions came carrying the bier to the main door of the Houses [of Healing], they heard a great cry that went up from the field before the Gate and rusing shrill and piercing into the sky passed, and died away on the wind. So terrible was the cry that for a moment all stood still, and yet when it had passed, suddenly their hearts were lifted up in such a hope as they had not known since the darkness came out of the East; and it seemed to them that the light grew clear and the sun broke through the clouds.

And it is heard by Frodo and Sam as well, and gives heart and hope to Sam:

As Frodo and Sam stood and gazed, the rim of light spread all along the line of the Ephel Dúath, and then they saw a shape, moving at great speed out of the West, at first only a black speck against the glimmering strip above the mountain-tops, but growing, until it plunged like a bolt into the dark canopy and passed high above them. As it went it sent out a long shrill cry, the voice of a Nazgûl; but this cry no longer held any terror for them: it was a cry of woe and dismay, ill tidings for the Dark Tower. The Lord of the Ringwraiths had met his doom.

Light and Water

For Frodo and Sam, the breaking of the darkness is part of another miraculous sequence of events. In the early hours, when they have escaped from the Tower of Cirith Ungol but are entirely out of water, Sam says:

“If only the Lady could see or hear us, I’d say to her: ‘Your Ladyship, all we want is light and water: just clean water and plain daylight, better than any jewels, begging your pardon.’ But it’s a long way to Lórien.”

Not long after that the darkness breaks, as quoted above, and light comes into the sky, and they hear the death-cry of the Nazgûl-lord. And only an little later:

They had trudged for more than an hour when they heard a sound that grought them to a halt. Unbelievable, but unmistakeable. Water trickling. Out of a gully on the left, so sharp and narrow that it looked as if the black cliff had been cloven by some huge axe, water came dripping down: the last remains, maybe, of some sweet rain gathered from sunlit seas...Here it came out of the rock in a little falling streamlet, and flowed across the path...

Sam sprang towards it. “If I ever see the Lady again, I will tell her!” he cried. “Light and now water!”

I don’t think either of these things are within Galadriel’s abilities, but that is not the point. The hobbits think of her as the closest encounter they have had with great and high beings, and think of her in place of greater things that they are less aware of or less sensible of being able to seek help from; and someone is watching out for them.

Healing

The last miracle of the day comes with Aragorn’s first entry into Minas Tirith, as healer rather than ruler; and the final description of it is highly evocative of many of Jesus’ miracles of healing in the New Testament:

At the doors of the Houses [of Healing] many were already gathered to see Aragorn, and they followed after him; and when at last he had supped, men came and prayed that he would heal their kinsmen or their friends whose lives were in peril through hurt or wound, or who lay under the Black Shadow. And Aragorn arose and went out, and he sent for the sons of Elrond, and together they laboured far into the night. And word went through the city: ‘The King is come again indeed.’ ...And when he could labour no more, he cast his cloak about him, and slipped out of the City, and went to his tent just ere dawn and slept for a little.

#tolkien #the lord of the rings #today in tolkien #rohirrim #legolas #frodo baggins #sam gamgee #eowyn #aragorn #galadriel #christianity

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claudiarya · 3 years

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Hey guys, I’ve written a post RoW fanfiction. I warn you that it has a death trope in it, so beware.

You can also read it on Ao3 as well.

Count words: 5990

Hope Suite

They didn’t know the moment when it all went wrong. Had it been when Kaz had accepted the job? Had it been when Inej had left Pekka Rollins alive, or when they had kept going despite all the adversities, they had encountered? The events of the last days were starting to become a blurring reel, that had done nothing but confuse them. What had started as a fairly easy job for the queen of Ravka, it then had turned out to be a major standoff with their enemies, which was putting not just one country, but the whole world as they knew it in peril. Maybe it had all gone downhill when Jarl Brum had managed to escape his prison cell at Hellgate, aided by one of his most trusted Drüskelle, his mind already too corrupted by the former General’s manipulations.

By the time he had been set free again, and had sought revenge against his detested neighbors, specifically against the witch queen and her monstrous husband, Inej, Kaz and his crew had already been too involved with their task to worry about it. How could they have known that once out, Brum was going to use everything in his power to bend Ravka? The Fjerdan man was aware that he couldn’t compete with its ruler, so he had worked out a different strategy entirely: if he couldn’t hope to win in a direct confrontation, he was going to annihilate her and her subjects from within, even if it would cost the destruction of his own country and more…

They didn’t know how Brum had gotten the information, but he had travelled to the mountains and had somehow liberated a certain shadow summoner from his sacrifice of eternal of pain, well before Zoya could do as she had planned. The shadow summoner in question had disappeared without a trace, only the Saints knew where he could have gone to hide away.

Needless to say, the darkness and its vampiric actions had started to spread again, at twice the speed. It looked like a ravenous beast had been set lose. It had extended in other countries as well, a silent and unannounced menace ravishing everything in its wake, that terrified even sailors at sea. If that wasn’t enough, Brum had also found out about Dirtyhand’s ‘involvement’ with the queen, and had made an ally with an ex Barrel boss, who had lost all his fortunes and power to a teenage crippled kid. Two powerful and dangerous men driven by their thirst for revenge had revealed themselves to be even more unstoppable than any of them had originally believed.

***

Inej remembered when Kaz had asked her to take a short leave from her sea voyages, to run one last time with him and the other crows in this task in which her skills at gathering information were going to be fundamental. Jesper had, of course, already accepted his friend’s proposition, and if at first Wylan had been skeptical, he had ended up joining the crew for the job. Perhaps for his natural instinct to follow wherever the gangly sharpshooter went, or maybe for the fact that he had made friends with the King consort, their shared love for science and ‘infernal gadgets’, as Kaz would call them, a fertile ground for common understanding.

“I won’t force you to do anything,” he had rasped to her while sitting on the roof ledge at the Slat to watch the tepid Ketterdam sun slowly blinking into existence in front of them; their intertwined fingers a testimony of how far they had already conquered together. The only thing that hadn’t won yet was their insomnia.

“Your particular set of skills is needed for this job, but I understand if you don’t want to be dragged into this,” Kaz had continued, and she had known he had slightly turned his head in her direction, as she had kept her eyes on the dawn.

After a while and still no answer from her he had sighed.

“Inej, what I’m trying to say is that we need you. I need you. I don’t think I can do this without you, so please tell me now, so I can send back a definite answer to Her Royal Pain.”

The Suli girl had marveled at his words: she didn’t think she had ever heard Kaz admit out loud that he couldn’t do something without the help of someone else.

“I’ll do it,” she had exclaimed, now turning her gaze on his stone-carved features. “But on one condition: I want Queen Zoya to help me fight against the slave trade in Ravka, and I want her to promise me that human traffickers are going to find the justice they deserve in her country.”

Kaz had squeezed her hand, the look in his eyes an oath to himself as well as to her.

***

Inej clutched her hand on her injured arm. She could feel the blood on her palm, as she watched Kaz keeping at cane point the last of the men who had tried to kill them. Their lead for the relic of Santk Feliks’s heart had taken them here, in an obscure abandoned, or so they thought, monastery on the Ravkan coast, right on the border with Fjerda. They had found out that centuries before, the order of religious men inhabiting the place had been the resting place of the only remaining part of the Saint. An easy reconnaissance job, an easy trail to follow. But ever since the spreading of the blight, of the Kilyklava, nothing had been easy. It was as if for every movement they made, their enemies were ten steps ahead of them. Inej had never seen anyone outsmart Kaz like that. Usually, he was the one who had everything under control, who could predict every outturn, every maneuver his opponents were going to make. But instead, everywhere they had attempted to gather information, they had encountered a setup of sorts: mainly the place they had intended to scout, burnt to the ground. Had they a spying traitor in their mix? Inej had never seen him more on edge than she had in the last month, but now they had passed the pretense of this being another job. It had stopped being that when the world hab been threatened by an unstoppable force and Pekka Rollins had entered the picture. It was personal. And she suspected that he was also trying to keep true to the promise he had made her.

Inej had thought they had planned this out so carefully, she was sure they would not encounter any unpleasant surprise this time. After the too many (not) coincidences, they had started scheming their way for the hunt of the heart with only the four of them and Nikolai and Zoya, who had had to, although begrudgingly, leave out the Triumvirate and their closest friends from this particular matter of international importance. How was it possible then, that their traces had been tracked even here? Kaz and Inej had offered for the job, a quick break in into the abandoned archives of the monastery, while Nikolai, Jesper and Wylan would wait for them on the Volkvolny to pick them up and leave after they had completed their task. Perhaps a smaller party was going to attract less attentions, their rouse of a devoted young group of people had served them well in the little town around the old holy building, and they had played their parts too well that Inej had forgotten for an instant that they had a bigger goal in mind. She was never going to forget the easy talk, the laughs they had shared around the table of the little tavern they had resided in, her hand clasped together with Kaz as a sort of lifeline for the both of them; her head resting delicately on his chest as they were lying down on the little bed they shared.

The four men that have been sent to kill them had caught them by surprise. Again.

Kaz had just uttered “We’ve got what we need, let’s go,” when the first thug that had tried to sneak up on him. Inej had made a quick work of the assassins, if her knives embedded in two of the men’s throats were of any indication. Despite that, one of the others had managed to graze her arm with a bullet, when she had momentarily lost her focus because the remaining one had kicked Kaz’s bad leg, eliciting a sound of pain from him. If only Jesper and Wylan had been there with them.

As she hobbled to where he was standing, Inej realized that Kaz was shaking from the effort of not to keel over in pain, his hand gripping the crow’s head of his cane so tightly, she feared he was going to snap it in half.

“Kaz...” she started

“You’re bleeding,” he rasped, diverting his gaze from the man to her, for the briefest of moments.

“It’s nothing,” she said. But she could see that he wasn’t really convinced, and with a soft grunt, he fished from his pocket a handkerchief and handed it to her, before asking to the person on the ground.

“How did you know we would be here?” his eyes two unforgiving coals.

The hired assassin didn’t answer at first but gave away in a little chuckle instead. Suddenly Kaz, still balancing his weight mostly on his good leg, brought down his cane on one of the man’s own legs. His scream of pain echoed around them in the old room.

“It doesn’t feel good, does it?” he said. This was Dirtyhands himself, any trace of the young man he had been with her at the tavern, vaporized.

“Now, tell me how you knew we were here, or I’m going to break every bone you have, and we both know how pleasant that is.”

The man chuckled again, but then he started talking.

“At times one shouldn’t look for spiders,” he said with a sickening grin. “At times, it’s the little insects nobody sees or cares to check because they’re believed to be harmless that tip the scales.”

Inej could see Kaz’s mind trying to figure out the man’s words, his gaze distant.

In that moment she realized that she was never going to tire to see that look on his face. Nor any other looks for that matter. Wobbly, the boy in question turned to her, he took the kerchief she had been pressing on her wound from her hand, and before she could realize what he was doing he tore it a bit and tied it around her bloody arm.

“Let’s get out of here,” he stated, wincing visibly as he made to move towards the door.

The man started laughing again as if Kaz had said something so funny he couldn’t control himself. Inej was on him before she could think. A knee on the thug’s sternum and her blade pressed to his throat.

“What’s so funny?” she inquired, looking down at him with disdain. She was tired, and she wanted to bring Kaz back to the Volkvolny, to get his leg looked properly after.

“In the end, you really are nothing but two delusional kids,” the man said, and Inej could feel his voice reverberate from under her knee.

“Stop speaking in riddles, or I swear to all the Saints known I’ll cut your throat right this second.”

He raised one hand in a gesture of mocking surrender. “Let’s just say that nobody is leaving this place alive,” he conceded.

“What do you mean?” asked Kaz from somewhere behind her, his tone menacing yet on guard. The tip of Inej’s knife scraped the man’s throat when he didn’t immediately answer back, two droplets of blood slid down the blade.

“This place and the whole town are about to be razed down by bombs and cannons. General Brum’s ships are approaching. They wanted to make sure our precious king consort and his flying machine didn’t leave this place unscathed. There’s no escaping your tragic fate now.” He snarled. His voice couldn’t conceal the hate he had for Nikolai, so he must have been one of those Ravkans from the West, unhappy with who was ruling over them now.

“No,” Inej said softly, and shaking her head in disbelief. “You’re lying!”

The man’s eyes lit with a manic light. “The world shall end in flames and darkness before being ruled by Gri –” He never finished his sentence, as Kaz brought down his cane once again, this time on his head.

The silence that followed could have lasted a minute or an eternity, Inej couldn’t be sure.

“Kaz,” she started again while standing.

“You need to leave. Now. I can’t walk, I think my leg is broken, but you need to leave me here and run from this place.” Kaz said, turning to look at her, the desperation palpable in his voice

“I’m not leaving,” she approached him. “We need to warn Nikolai. Tell them all to leave.”

“Inej – ”

“Either pick up the comm and call them, or give it to me, Kaz. We’re only losing time like this.” Her tone was unmovable.

Without any more protests on his part, he took out the little ingenious device Wylan and Nikolai had come up with. It permitted them to communicate even from quite long distances.

“Crow 1 and 2 to Too Clever Fox, do you copy?”

For the briefest of instants only there was only the sound of static, but then.

“Too Clever Fox here, I copy you. Kaz? What’s going on?” came the king’s voice.

“Nikolai, listen to me: you have to leave. Now. Get the Volkvolny and depart. This monastery, this town is about to be razed down by bombs. They knew we would be here; Brum’s ships are approaching. You – ”

“We’re coming to get you,” Nikolai interrupted him.

“No, there’s no time for that. You have to leave here now, or it will all be for nothing.” He looked at Inej then, his eyes searching hers in the dim light of the room with evident resignation.

“No! Kaz, Inej, no, we’re coming and we’re all surviving this.” Another protest from a different voice, Jesper’s.

“No! You have to listen and be quiet. I know where the thing we’ve looked for is. It’s hidden somewhere under the little place you train your soldiers. I also know how they’ve been able to predict our every move. Bugs. Check the war room for devices of the sort we’re using right now.”

“I will,” was Nikolai’s response.

There was another brief pause of static, Kaz spoke again, before he could be interrupted

“Jesper, Wylan,” he said. “The Crow Club and everything else is yours and Nina’s. You’ll find all the documents in my office back at the Slat. Do with them whatever you think it’s right.”

“Kaz, please we still have time, we can come and get you.” It was Wylan’s voice now that came from the other side.

Inej got closer and circled the hand in which Kaz was gripping the device with her own. “Wylan, you have to leave. Right now, ring the alarm bell of the town and go.” She started and then said:

“Guys… find my parents, tell them – tell them what happened, and that it was all for something better. We love you.”

Another anguished call for their names echoed around the room they were standing.

Inej took a breath a finished what she meant to say. “Nikolai the Wraith… take good care of her, and don’t forget our promise. When you see Nina and Zoya tell them – ”

She couldn’t finish the sentence the threat of tears pricking her eyes. Luckily the privateer answered back.

“I’ll tell them, and I promise everything we did by far will not be in vain. Thank you, my friends. We will never forget what you did for Ravka and for all of us.”

Kaz and Inej could also hear the subtle sounds of distress of their friends, their family. She realized in that moment how much all of them meant to her. Funny how life had a tendency to remind you how deeply you loved someone when you’re about to lose everything.

Kaz brought the device back on his lips and in a clear voice said: “No mourners…” and before they could hear an answer coming from the other side, he had already thrown on the ground the device and smashed it with the tip of his cane.

The movement made so that he lost his balance. He would have crashed on the ground if Inej hadn’t been there to prevent the fall. She brought his arm over and shoulder and steadied him.

Kaz looked at her intently, his face turned in her direction, his eyes scanning her features and she knew what he was about to tell her even before he spoke the words.

“Inej, you can still make it, you’re fast, you have to run and save yourself.”

“I knew you were going to say this, but if you think that I could ever leave you behind you’re sorely mistaken.”

He did not relent, and as stubbornly as ever he removed his arm from around her shoulder, he gripped his cane with all his might so as not to fall again and faced her.

“Inej, please. Run now. Live. You have so much you still have to give to this wretched world.” Kaz Brekker never said please, never. Yet here he was, a broken boy standing in front of the girl he had grown to love.

“I can’t do that,” Inej simply replied while shaking her head in denial.

“It was all my fault, and you can’t pay my foolishness with your life, I won’t allow it. It’s not worth it. I’m not worth it.”

She took the short distance separating them and put her hand atop his on his cane.

“None of this was your fault, you have to get that straight. We’ve done something good, we helped our friends, our countries. And you’ll always be worth it to me.”

At her words she felt his breath hitch, but still his eyes held behind them a strange resolution.

“I can’t be the reason why you die here today, why can’t you understand that?” Kaz’s voice cracked, perhaps with the effort of holding back his desperation. Inej brought her free hand up and gently cupped his face with her palm. Her thumb grazed his cheek in a loving gesture.

“I’m not afraid to die, Kaz. But I’m terrified at the idea of a life without you in it. So, no. I’m not leaving, not now, not ever.”

***

As they stumbled outside the musty room of the monastery, Kaz with an arm draped around Inej’s shoulder for support, the Autumnal sun had started its descent. The soft orange and purple hues of the rays reflected on the sea surface, and the waves created a gentle melody. Inej couldn’t help but think that this was the Saints’ way to lead them onto their next job, their next adventure…

They dragged their feet until they were near the shore and lowered themselves down. For a moment that felt like an eternity, they gazed to the horizon, the sheer but peaceful resignation palpable in the air.

When Kaz clasped her hand and looked at her, she remembered a conversation she had overhead between the boy and Zoya.

They had adjourned their meeting after having gone over their plan again, everyone had stepped out of the room except for Kaz and Zoya, who had prevented him from exiting with a question. Curious as to why he hadn’t joined her outside, she had stayed behind the closed door, waiting in the long corridor. She had known that Kaz, and probably the queen too, were aware that she was there, but she hadn’t cared much.

“Just out of curiosity, why are you doing this Mr. Kerch rat?” she had asked, her voice reverberating even outside.

“I thought it was pretty obvious, Your Highness. It’s for the reward.” He had replied in that wry tone of his that she knew drove Zoya crazy.

“Oh, but I don’t think it’s just that.” Even without having been inside, Inej could picture the other woman taking one of the positions she had learned the queen preferred. Arms crossed and a frowned expression to better look down on him. In the crows’ time at the palace, the two Suli women had formed an easy and quiet friendship. The captain of the Wraith had helped her queen to reacquaint herself with her Suli heritage and Inej had even told Zoya that once the situation was over, she was going to bring her to her family caravans, to spend some time amongst their people. They had become sisters at heart and by blood.

“Enlighten me with your glorious knowledge then.”

Kaz had always liked playing with fire, but he was always walking a fine line with the sovereign of Ravka. Perhaps he wanted to see how much she could take before she decided to strike him out of existence on the spot.

“When you saw that this was getting dangerous, that it wasn’t going to be an easy job, you could have easily dropped everything and return to Ketterdam with you crew. Why didn’t you? Why stay when you knew the risks?”

Inej had heard genuine interest in Zoya’s voice that didn’t bore any resentment.

“I don’t know what you want me to answer.”

“Try with the truth, I know it’s hard for you, but indulge me. I know you’re not doing this just for yourself and your own benefit, as shockingly as it may seem. You’re still here for Inej, for the promise we had sworn to keep.” The queen had said as if she had found out the deepest secret of the man standing before her.

“Let me get this straight,” he had rasped. “I’ll always do what’s best for me, but I’m also a man of my word and I made a promise.”

There had been a few seconds of absolute silence, in which probably Zoya had studied him with those piercing blue eyes of hers.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but under certain aspects we’re not that different you and I. Your prickly behavior can only last so long, Kaz, but eventually you’ll have to let go. I’ve learned that even the thickest thorns have their purposes.” The queen had said with a wisdom that at times made Inej wondered how many lives the queen had already lived.

“Ah, but here’s where your wrong, Your Excellency. In this scenario you’re comparing me to thorn wood, while actually I’m just barren land on which nothing grows.”

His lapidary answer would have been enough to render speechless anyone, but not Zoya the Grisha queen of Ravka. In her spectacular talent at having always the last word she told him: “You’ll realize that you can’t keep up this cold demeanor forever. I just hope it won’t be too late when you do.”

***

Inej squeezed Kaz’s hand tighter and looked him straight in his brown eyes, a shade lighter in the orange sun. From a distance they heard the sound of bells. Their friends had managed to give the alarm, she only hoped they were already on their way back to the palace. The tolls were shortly followed by another sound: propellers guiding the Fjerdan ships to face the town and the monastery. With a small smile grazing her feature she told him said.

“You were wrong. You were wrong that time when you spoke with Zoya.” If at the beginning of her sentence he had seemed confused, now she could see he understood what conversation she meant.

“You’re not just barren land, Kaz. You managed to build something from nothing, you survived all those terrible things in your life and in the process, you managed to grow, to thrive, to do something good for Ravka and your friends. I’m sure your brother would be proud of you. I know I am.” He didn’t reply.

The rumbling of the aircrafts was almost cacophonic, in contrast to the peace they had basked in not a few minutes ago. Despite that, it was as if the two of them had been placed in a protective bubble of their own, in which not even those machines of war could destroy.

Perhaps it was the lightening, but Inej swore those were unshed tears glinting in Kaz’s eyes. In all the years she had known him, she had never even seen him get emotional or choked up about something, but here, now, on this shore with her, Dirtyhands was doing just that.

“I’ve never wanted for it to end like this – his shoulders shook as he held back a sob – for us, to end like this. Inej, believe me when I tell you that if I could go back, I would do so many things differently. If I could go back, I would start to show you how much I admire you, how much I love you so much earlier than I did.”

Inej’s hand found his face again. The tip of her fingers skimmed his lips in such a tender gesture that they parted under her touch.

“There’s no need for that, Kaz, I already know. And it doesn’t matter how early or late you started. You show me you love me every day.” Her limb continued on her exploration: she touched his brow, his eyes, his cheekbones. “I propose a deal: I’ll find you in the next life Kaz Rietveld, and even there I’ll be waiting for you perched on your windowsill feeding the crows.”

Still looking at her straight in the eye, he let go of her hand, removed his gloves discarding them on the sand and rubbed her disheveled braid between two trembling fingers.

“The deal is the deal. I’ll find you there then.”

The rumble of the ship cannons had reached a deafening peak as their beams struck mercilessly on the monastery in an unescapable trap of fire.

Before the very end, the two held themselves up on trembling knees and embraced the other. A small smile of resigned happiness on both of their faces.

“Stay with me,” Kaz whispered, and unlike another and far time her answer was clear.

“Always.” Inej swore.

Saints protect us both, was the last thing she thought.

And then there was nothing but searing light.

***

In Os Alta the feast on Sankt Nikolai was fast approaching, but even if she was the queen Zoya didn’t feel much festive. The white, still landscape of her country at this time of the year was an accurate representation of what she had been feeling ever since they had managed to find the heart of Sankt Feliks, save Ravka from the plague and its enemies with another peace treaty and bring the Darkling – or Aleksander as he insisted to be called – back to the little palace where they could control him. She knew they were taking a risk, but it was safer to have him closer than not knowing where he was. It had been a hard decision, but she wasn’t going to murder him in cold blood, she was not going to turn into a monster, as he had in his lust for power. In his loneliness.

When everything had come back to a pseudo- normality, when she had had time to think and just be, it was then that everything she had been holding back for the sake of her country hit her with tenfold the force.

Zoya had understood that keeping emotions bottled inside you, was going to eat you alive in the longer run. It was something she was learning every day, and that she was willing to change, if only a bit. She had started letting go in the small gestures of affection she shared with Genya, in the loving words she had with Nikolai, in the playful banters she occasionally allowed herself to have with the rest of her friends. Her family.

And so, as the Grisha queen strode towards her garden, the winter sun barely a strip on the horizon of a new morning, she couldn’t help the tears that fell down in two cold streaks down her face. Zoya brought an arm up to dry them, the sensation of the thick wool of her winter kefta both prickly and a reassurance.

She opened the door of the little corner of her world. Nobody entered this sanctuary except for Nikolai, since she hadn’t allowed anybody else to see her soul from that close. The structure her king had built for her always managed to leave her speechless. The glass and iron were combined in perfect harmony, and when Zoya worked in it by day, the sun would cast and create a series of little mesmerizing rainbows. However, what would always speak to her were the walls, painted by Alina. The roaring dragon flying, the little fox, the ship resembling the Volkvolny mastering the sea, the colors and symbols of the Grisha orders were her most trusted companions during the solitary hours of her gardening.

It was there where Nikolai found her, tending to her plants and flowers. She heard him enter her safe haven, and she supposed he had come out to her when he had awoken and hadn’t seen her resting beside him. He approached her and kneeled beside where she was on the ground, a rather small pot between her hands. Nikolai knew that when she was working here like this, he would have had to let go of his privateer side, and just be the man she had fallen in love with and married. In short, he needed to be her anchor.

“Those are nice flowers,” he said, pointing to the little thing with red petals. A genuine interest coloring his voice.

“They’re wild geraniums.” Was Zoya’s noncommittal answer. Her eyes hadn’t looked up at him.

“And what is that other sprout beside the flowers?” Nikolai prompted her again, indicating the smaller, yet visible plant growing alongside the geraniums. It looked like it was enveloping the geraniums in an embrace, its green leaves a stark, yet so right, contrast with the red of the petals.

This time she raised her gaze, and her blue orbs found a pair of comforting hazel ones staring back at him.

“It’s ivy.” Again, she didn’t let herself go into any sort of explanation.

“I remember you with a vase like this when you left for the Suli caravans.”

So, he had noticed, of course he had. Zoya was always taken aback by the fact that when it came to her, Nikolai was even a closer observant than he already was.

As soon as everything had settled after the whole ordeal, she had decided that she was going to be the one to bring the news to the Ghafas. Her and only her with no escort and no Nikolai in tow. She had told him that she had to do this particular thing alone, and he had just hugged her and encouraged her to go. It had been a spiritual journey of sorts; one she had promised her other Suli sister they would take together…

“Yes,” she said in a whisper. “They were Inej’s favorite flowers. I brought a pot to her parents when I visited the camps. It was the least I could.” With her hand she showed him other three little vases with the same brightly colored flowers and green little sprout of ivy on the side. “Those are for Nina, Jesper and Wylan. It’s their present for Sankt Nikolai.”

“Zoya,” he started. She knew they’ve been over this before, and yet she couldn’t seem to let her sense of guilt leave her.

“They knew what they were doing, it was their choice.”

“Yes, but it doesn’t make it any easier, Nikolai. When I met her parents – she shook her head – they treated me like their own. Like I was family. I’ve never felt so accepted, so… seen in my life, except for when I’m with you. And yet I’m part of the reason why their daughter has been taken away from them. They both have been taken away from them.” A small moment of silence, and once again she couldn’t stop the little tear escaping the corner of her eye.

“I just don’t understand how there can be such kindness after so much loss.” Zoya wondered out loud.

“It’s the nature of human beings, and also our strength.” Nikolai said. “Even after losing everything, we find it in ourselves to get back on our feet and fight for something new, something worth all the suffering.” He dragged himself closer to Zoya with his arms and then raised a hand to cup her cheek, gently steering her face in his direction. His thumb brushing away the stray tear marking her face.

“As long as there is life, there is happiness, Zoya. There is hope for a brighter future. And that’s exactly what Kaz and Inej had brought us: hope to build something better from the ashes.” He paused and behind his eyes she could see the same emotions that had been haunting her, testimony of the fact that he too had been grieving his friends.

“Don’t let your sorrow squander the hope they enabled with their sacrifice, because you wouldn’t be honoring their memories in that ways.”

“Oh, Nikolai,” she exhaled before throwing her arms around him with such a force he momentarily lost his balance. “Thank you!”

“Any time, my queen. I’ll always be here.” He promised.

“And besides, you know how much I love when I’m being all smart and wise. I couldn’t let this occasion to show it to you slip by.” He finished with a much brighter tone. Zoya softly chuckled, something she hadn’t thought being capable of mere months ago and told him with fake exasperation.

“Of course, you couldn’t. It’s your modesty I fell for after all.”

They remained in each other’s arms for an indefinite amount of time. The only indication of the time passing was the sun which har finally risen, and now was beating on the glass panels of the garden. Zoya continued tending to her plants, all a part of her in some capacity, as Nikolai watched her in a comforting silence, seated on the ground and with his back against a small tree.

“Why the ivy?” he asked her all of a sudden. His eyes returning once again on the pots near him.

“It can grow even in poor soils and although it requires more time for it to bloom than other plants, when it does its resilience it’s unmatched.” Zoya saw Nikolai nodding in understanding.

“I also found the meaning behind it fitting,” She added.

“What’s the meaning?”

“It symbolizes the constancy of love.”

There was a brief silence in which she saw him taking in the information.

“It is as fitting as it is beautiful,” he said, while he rose to his feet and brought her closer once again, placing a soft kiss on her dark mane.

As they left to go back to the palace, hand in hand, Zoya thought to herself that in life there were people whose souls were connected and strung in ways that couldn’t be explained by logic. She looked at Nikolai walking alongside her and smiled softly to herself, sure she had found the missing piece of her complicated puzzle in the golden boy beside her.

Her gait hadn’t felt this light in months.

In a glass garden, in a country ruled by a powerful Grisha queen with the heart of a dragon, a plant of geraniums and ivy grew stronger by the day, forever entwined in their embrace of constant love for the other.

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whet-ones-write · 4 years

Text

Fixing Kai - a Overhaul x Fem!Reader

First posted on my AO3 and forgot to post here- lmao Whoops! Anyway Enjoy! Warnings: 18+ NSFW / Surgery mention / Binding - Being Tied down.

Word Count: 3446

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“You know that’s not very nice.” You said as you looked up at the masked villain above you. “I fix your arms time and time again, and this is how you treat me?” You sigh, shaking your head. “Glad to know i’m appreciated around here.” Rolling your eyes up at the figure above you as he got up with a grunt.

“Now Kai, you need to sit and get your rest. I know that’s something you don’t want to do but you tore yourself up pretty badly.” And as much as you knew it, he probably would not listen to you again, which is why you used your quirk to make sure he stayed in the bed he had already stained crimson with blood. “If you keep moving you could re-open the wounds I've stitched up and don’t even get me started on your bones.” You growled quietly as you shifted your stance. “Still, there’s no need for these bindings eh Angel?”

“You could be a good boy and stay put.” Even with the scolding it did not change the fact that you did not budge or remove the bindings. “I know you better than that.” He smirked as you took a seat at your desk, hunching over and looking over his charts. “The moment I let go, you’ll go for your knives and try and hurt me for tying you up like this, even if I am your precious Angel.” You mused, clearly unimpressed with his attempts of flattery.

“And such a special Angel you are.” He sighed happily as he lay back watching you. “You don’t break like anyone else and you’re oh so useful to me. You take care of me like no one else does.” He offered charmingly.

“Yeah and no one fixes your messes like I do eh?” Rolling your eyes you leaned back in your chair. “If it weren’t for me you could be bleeding out right now. Not only that, getting you out was hard enough; having you imprisoned like you were. Still, you need to take at least a week's rest rather than getting into fights.” You started to explain much to his dismay.

“Your arms are rather fucked up, but I'm getting close to making a break though.” You informed him. Glacing to you, it was clear you had his interest. This meant you could let the bindings go and like the good boy was going to be, he could remain as you explained.

“I’m close to getting your new arms compatible with your quirk. We know that you had to touch someone for you to use it, so naturally even though mentally you wanted to use them you couldn’t, something was missing.. With your blood samples I have been able to determine that not only mentally do you need to be willing to activate it but it also lies within your nervous system. Although you have robotic arms which you can use, we know from practice that you can’t use your quirk just yet and because of the lack of connections.” Scratching your head you flipped the page as he continued to listen to you clearly excited for the possibility to be back to normal.

“So I’m going to need you to be in top physical condition so I can perform the surgery needed to make sure you can use your arms and quirk to its fullest again. I can’t give you any anesthetic at the time of the surgery because if I did, I can’t be sure if your arms will be connected to your nervous system as well as your brain realising you have your limbs back. They’re just a few days away so when your bones are healed we can give it a go, you should be able to help cure the world again should it all go according to my plan.”

“I knew I could count on you, my Angel. I thought I had lost all hope when I was trapped in that God forsaken prison.” He stated as he glanced over at you. “It was so bright and so lonely there by myself. I couldn’t even feed myself at the time. They forced me to have a pump to my stomach for it to be filled with food, I had almost missed chewing and tasting food.” He admitted thinking back on the several months he spent there. “Then again I suppose it was also my own fault over the fact that I trusted the bastard Shigraki but still, he will get what’s coming to him for double crossing me.” He smiled at the thought shutting his eyes as he relaxed back. “He will be one of the first ones I cure. He’s such a sick little boy isn’t it? Always scratching, so dry and flaky. Yes, he shall be the first to be cured once I am able to. Give him some moisturizer at that.” He mused as he opened his eyes to you.

He wasn’t one for feelings too much, he didn’t have time for them unless he was trying to get others to help him, he could pull at other’s feelings but rather not show that particular weakness himself but there was something about you that just made him sick. Love sick that is, and he knew there was no cure of this illness but he did not mind. Sometimes you have to be sick in order to get stronger, and that’s how he viewed this situation. It was not often you were in trouble but when you were he would always be there to help. His sickness made it so your protection and safety was more important than his own. On top of that you believed in him which is why you gathered other’s to help him break free.

Even though all that though you never gave up on him, and what was his dream soon became the both of yours. You were the one that built his very first arms, and something that he would always treasure before he was able to get into contact with some people that could really make a difference for him. After all in this day and age, a loss of a limb should not keep a sick human down, so why should someone like him that doesn’t suffer, be handicapped.

“Well it still won’t be for some time yet.” You explained as you rubbed your temple. “You still have to heal as much as you can while we wait for your arms to come in. I will have to make some adjustments to your shoulders, neck and head and it will be risky but the pay off? It’ll be life changing that’s for sure.” You mused before leaning back and looking at him. “You’ll have cybernetic arms, that has your blood flowing through them and on top of that you’ll be able to use your power to cure again.” Smiling at that statement, you got up to turn off the lights. “So rest well sir, the sooner you heal up, the sooner we can get you all better.” Smiling as you left him alone in the room so he could think it over.

Yes you were so beautiful in your working uniform. A plague mask much like his own but pure in white, to symbolise your cleanliness, the light in the darkness of his goal, as well as matching your white lab coat, announcing to others you were his own private doctor and he’ll be damned if the black trousers you wore got him all hot and bothered. Still a temporary cure will come to him soon enough for his love sickness. He can and will show you just how much you mean to him and how damn sexy you look in your uniform.

~ ~

When the time came for the surgery you were more nervous than anything. What if something went wrong?. What if you were not quick enough and ended up having him bleed out? You did not have anyone to assist you if something went wrong, because anyone else would just get in the way of what you were trying to do. It seemed simple on paper what you had to do but working on an actual body was different. On top of that you had done some test runs on some animals to try and help them get back to what society saw as normal and after a few attempts, things looked up for the better but the failures still weighed heavy on you and even Chisaki could see that.

You were stuck scrubbing your arms as you mutter to yourself about the process, what you had to do to an obsessive extent before your trance was snapped, bringing you back down to earth and looking at him.

Having placed a kiss on your cheek gently, he looked over you with a small sigh. “Do not fret. I do not die so easily.” He smiled at that, leaning in and kissing your forehead. “I am all healed and ready for this. I know the risks. I know what might happen but Angel, I trust you like no one else.” He explained as he took a seat on the operating table “You’ve been there with me right from the start. Through thick and thin and you have been there healing those in need. The children I've brought to you as well as my fellow colleagues that needed treatment. You are the best that I trust and you have the best equipment we can afford. You’ve looked over your plans obsessively to the point I'm sure you’re speaking them in your sleep. You’ve got plans for every eventuality, there’s no one I love and trust more to do this then you. You have this, just stay calm, relaxed and I’ll be happy to talk the entire time. After, if I stop talking I might just be brain dead, and I’m sure you don’t want that now hmm?” Teasing, you sighed in response, shaking your head. He was always like this in tense situations between you both, just trying to find the light side of life with smiles and laughs.

“Even so, if you’re ready I am, and we can begin.” You stated, waiting for his go ahead. Letting him remain sat up, it meant you could work around his back and shoulder completely so you can get to exactly where you need to be.

“Of course Angel, lets begin.” He smiled, keeping his eyes open as he watched the door behind you as you began your long and painful work.

“Okay Kai, I’m going to go collect the shopping that we need but I want you to remain in bed.” You tell him as you step around the room; laid on the soft and clean bed, Kai was still resting post-op some time ago.

“I ain’t going anywhere any time soon.” He replied, letting out a low sigh as he shifted in the bed. Even though no anaesthetic could be used during the operation, you had given him some after; he needed time to recover and relax after all.

However you knew what he was like, you knew what would happen if you left him alone for more than a handful of minutes. With a slight tap of your chin with your gloved finger, you made your way over and gently placed his new wrists into the restrains.

You had all of them fastened before Kai realised what was going on, quickly fastening the last restraint over his chest and tightening it enough that he could not move more than he needed to.

“Hey! What’s the problem! Unfasten me! I said I won’t move okay!”

“I know that Kai and I trust you but, you know what you’re like. Plus if you move more than you need to it could cause damage to your new limbs; irreparable damage. I would be negligent if I let that happen. I’ll only be gone for about half an hour at most. Just… Sit tight okay?”

With a soft sigh, Kai looked away; pouting like a child as he grumbled a “Fine” under his breath.

“Don’t worry. I won’t be long. I tell you what, I’ll bring you something nice.” Winking your grinned as you shut the door behind you letting him get the rest he would need still.

~ ~

You ran back as fast as you could, how could today have been so… so… He was going to kill you! You knew it!

You just could not get away, every time you were due to get away from someone you were once again dragged away; you couldn’t exactly tell them that you had one of the biggest criminals tied down in one of your off the books surgeries could you?

Busting in through the door and dropping the bags you were carrying, your eyes landed on the empty bed and the removed restrains. “Oh no…”

“Oh no indeed.” A voice spoke from behind you and quickly spinning on your heel you were face to face with Kai.

“Oh thank goodness Kai, I am so sorry, I don’t know what happened and-” Your words were quickly cut off when you were pushed back onto the bed.

“Oh yes, you will be sorry. Five hours, FIVE FUCKING HOURS I was left on the bed!” He turned his head slightly and gritted his teeth under his mask.

“Please Kai, I’m sorry. I tried to get away and they kept…” You began but could not finish as you were pushed back again. As you fell back on the bed, Kai gripped your wrist and began to strap the restraint over it.

“Oh you’ll be sorry. We’ll see what you can do to make it up to me for this.” He grinned under his mask and walked around the other side of the bed, quickly grabbing your other wrist. In a panic you kicked and yelled but he was much stronger than you, even with his new arms and post op recovery.

“Kai… Kai… What are you doing? Untie me. Please.” You begged but he just towered over you at the foot of the bed.

“Don’t worry. I’m not going to hurt you Doc, I’m just going to make you regret keeping me tied up for five hours.” He leaned forward and tapped your foot. “Just sit tight okay?”

The breath in your chest hung as you thought what he could do, the punishments a villain like him could put upon someone; you had seen him seriously hurt many people. He wouldn’t do that to you would he?

Closing your eyes tight as he leaned over, you were surprised by what he did first.

Laughter burst out of your lungs as he began to tickle your feet, under arms and under your kneecaps. Why did he know exactly where to tickle you! Stretching up and pulling at the restraints you laughed hard, coughing and choking as you tried to breath. Finally begging to stop worked as he stepped back. Circling the bed like a vulture in the desert with its prey in sight, Kai stopped behind your head, leaning over he looked at you and pulled his mask away slightly before removing your own for you.

“Don’t worry Angel, I’m not going to kill you, or hurt you. Why would I? I’m just going to make you wish you’d never locked me up.” He grinned and gave your forehead a soft peck.

Staring up at Kai, you were speechless, a hot flush running along your cheeks at the kiss off your forehead.

“Look at you, all red and flustered, you’d think that you had a crush on me.” Kai grinned as he towered over you. Your eyes quickly turned away as he mentioned it.

“Yeah… that would be silly.” You mumble and Kai let out a loud laugh.

“I’m not stupid you know Angel, I know you like me; I mean…” He reached out and flicked his finger; a loud gasp left your lips and you looked down at your body to see you flushes stained cheeks. “You really like being tied up don’t you Angel? Have you ever tried it?”

Nervously you nod. “A few times… but…”

“But what? You’ve never been with anyone for long?”

You nod slowly and bite your lip.

“Me too.” Kai replied and sighed. “Look Angel… I… I might be a bit of an arsehole but… I appreciate everything you do… and… I… I kinda… like you too.”

The two of you were silent as you stared up at him and he stared down at you. “Well… you… You have me here…” You mumble and then could not believe you said it. With a surprised smile Kai looked down at you.

“Oh really now? For such an innocent doctor you really are needy aren't you?.” He laughed and grinned, slowly one hand went out of view and your vision went dark as something slapped you on the face. Warm, musky and… and… Wide eyed you stared up at Kai as you realised what was on your face.

“So… if I was to put my dick here, what would you do?” Kai asked and you breathed slowly, nervously, you turned your head and opened your mind. The grin on Kai’s face as he stepped back slightly and thumbed his tip to your lips.

“Good doc…” He purred and slowly began to slide inside your own lips. You’d never done this before in this position but already you wanted more. You were pretty skilled at this without your gag reflex and as Kai grunted, he reached out and put his hand on your bulging throat. With several slaps of your face with his balls, you could feel him tensing and getting faster.

The warmth and suddenness of the act left you coughing and for once; gagging as your airways were filled. Stepping back and accidental slapping and dribbling over your face, Kai panted as he held himself up by the nearby wall.

“Damn Angel… you… you’re…” He panted and after managing to cough and swallow as much as you can, you whimpered the words quietly. “Please… fuck me…”

Kai stared over at you as the grin on his face began to grow. “As you prescribe doctor~.”

Now laying on your front, the slap against your rear stung but… felt so good. You had dreamt of this in the dark nights and late work hours when you were alone, now it was going to happen and here you were; tied to a medical bed. This was not exactly the romantic night you expected; no dinner and no dancing, no long cuddling and foreplay; unless you classed the teasing as foreplay.

‘Oh god, that had been foreplay.’ You thought as you tried to look back at Kai, the way you were restrained meant you couldn’t turn your head very far. You saw his shoulder and his arms moving, grabbing something from the cupboard before turning back to you. A soft splurge noise and then a cold feeling down the crack of your rear. A soft gasp left your lips as you shuddered at the feeling.

“Oh don’t be such a wuss Doctor, it’s only a bit of lubrication; unless you want me to go without?” Kai asked with a teasing tone to his voice.

In a soft squeak you found your voice whimpering out. “N… no…”

“Alright then.” Kai whispered and let his hand drop his cock down onto your waiting hole. You felt the heavy weight on your cheeks, the warmth passing through the cold lube and to your now chilled rear. The air in your lungs hung deep and you had to think hard to remember to breathe.

“Ready Angel?” He asked in a soft tone and you nodded, letting out a soft whimper as you did so.

The first bit of pressure began and you closed your eyes, soft breaths and relaxing thoughts as you tried to loosen your body. The only issue was it did not stop, you tried to relax but the pressure built and built; when would that damn head pass!

When it did, the feeling of the pop through your body and the sudden half-thrust brought a loud gasp from your lips.

“You sound so cute there Angel, you enjoying it?”

“Hmm hmm.” You manage to reply.

“Well let's let you relax and get used to this, because I’m going to give you this and then I’m going to wreck you. You want that?”

“Hmm hmm.” You manage to reply again. Kai let out a soft chuckle and began to buck his hips.

The night could not last long enough.

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princess-of-the-worlds · 4 years

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tldr: As of this October, it has officially been one year since I first watched Torchwood and started reading fics. Although I didn’t start writing my own fics until March 2020, I have written...like a lot of fics in the past seven months. But I wanted to celebrate my favorite fics by other people. So here is Part 1 of probably several eventual fic rec posts. These are what I consider fandom staples.

To The Sticking Place by zephyras13

The end justifies the means. Failure is not an option. There is always a choice, except when there isn't. These are the phrases Ianto Jones lives by and he refuses to allow anyone, even Captain Jack Harkness, to change that. Jack/Ianto, AU, Torchwood One Agent!Ianto.

(janto & others | complete | mature | 96K)

Nik: I legitimately cannot explain why I love this fic so much other than the fact it is so great! It was one of the first fics I read, and I still adore it. It follows canon so well while making you feel very range of the emotion spectrum. The author’s take on Ianto is so complexly-written but still feels true to the canonical Ianto. Literally one of the first fics I’d rec to anyone new to fandom. A must read.

only fools fall by transjackianto

“Oh my god,” he gasps out when his laughter has died down to softer chuckles, “I am so glad I stuck around to hear that. Thank you Jack, I needed to laugh today. Now if you’ll excuse me,” he pushes back from the table for the third time but Jack stops him again with a hand over his own. It is a softer touch than before and that unnerves Ianto more than anything.

He looks up, terrified he’s going to see some kind of earnest emotion on Jack’s face. When he finds Jack looking instead like he swallowed a handful of pins he relaxes. He’s not sure he could handle finding out Jack had some kind of ridiculous unrequited crush on him.

“I know,” Jack groans, dropping Ianto’s hand and letting his head thunk against where his arms are crossed on the table, “I want to punch myself just for saying it, but I mean it Ianto. I need you to be my boyfriend.”

Aka, Ianto just wants to make it through his summer as a newly single sixth form graduate and eagerly await the end when his ex comes back from her summer trip and they can reunite.

His ex-friend Jack Harkness throws a wrench into the works.

(janto, lisaianto, & others | complete | mature | 182K)

Nik: Okay, so I’m a tiny bit biased with this one considering that the author is my friend whom I adore and also one of my favorite people in this fandom. And I...also betaed this entire fic. But take it from me! It’s so, so well-written and the shift from enemies to lover is so perfect. There is angst, oh so much angst, but it is worth it. Plus, it’s incredibly hot! And I know the author has eventual plans for a sequel, although no promises when it’s coming. Another must read!

Halfway Back by Sholio (@sholiofic)

Team Torchwood run a sanctuary for magical creatures, and this time they've got a basilisk on their hands.

(gen | complete | teen | 13K)

Nik: Okay, so literally anything by Sholio is perfect. They have an incredible grasp of the team dynamic that still blows my mind, and their fics have topnotch Owen-Ianto interactions. But I chose this fic because the premise felt like almost nothing I’d read in this fandom before. Plus, there is still the requisite amount of Owen angst in this. (Also check out The Cartography of Feeling, which is another personal favorite.)

Conversational Japanese, Plus Frogs by james

Tosh and Ianto have been taken prisoner. They cope.

(janto | complete | teen | 6K)

Nik: One of the older, shorter recs on this list but still a classic. A fascinating in-depth character study of Ianto and Tosh and their friendship in confined quarters that also explores the trauma that follows some of Torchwood’s misadventures. I don’t think I can say much else besides urging you to read it!

Sharkreef (Or, Why Torchwood Was Set in Cardiff and Not the Bermuda Triangle) by queenfanfiction

There is the story of a team who tried to save Earth from aliens. This is not that story.

(janto & many, many others | complete | teen | 2K)

Nik: Look, I know that some will actually despise that I included this rec, but this fic is ICONIC. It’s cracky, yes. Cracky crack. Very crack. But it’s also legitimately one of the strangest/whackiest/what-the-fuck fics I’ve ever read. It always startles a genuine laugh out of me. It has all of our favorite tropes...coupled with some lobsters. (Sidenote: This reminds me of John Mulaney/SNL’s Diner Lobster sketch, which I also encourage you to watch.)

Insignificant Other by parachutewoman

Ianto is tasked with telling Rhys that his newly wedded wife has ditched him to go to London with Jack on a “very important mission”. Refusing to have his day ruined, Rhys drags Ianto along to the Six Nations final and the two ‘other halves’ try to make sense of their place in the world and their partners’ lives.

(janto & gwenrhys | complete | mature | 6K)

Nik: Ianto-Rhys friendship content is something that is severely lacking in this fandom, which is a damn shame. You can see from COE that Rhys seems to genuinely care about Jack and Ianto, which I presume is from post-Exit Wounds bonding with his wife’s coworkers. And I know that the audiobook Ghost Train has a lot of good Ianto-Rhys bonding, although I just haven’t had the time to listen to it yet. Either way, this fic, and the other fics by this author, are very well-written and beautiful. This one, set circa S2, has just the right amount of angst mixed in as well as you watched Ianto go from reluctantly accompanying Rhys to actually enjoying himself. I definitely enjoyed this fic.

Beast Inside by Flamingbluepanda (@flamingbluepanda)

"Argue with anything else, but don’t argue with your own nature.” - Phillip Pullman

Inside us all, there is an animal that expresses our soul. How would the world change were those animals outside?

(janto & others | complete | mature | 26K)

Nik: Admittedly, this one is also a bit biased because the author is my friend and I am their loyal occasional beta, but I started reading it before I met the author. Although daemons do come from His Dark Materials, they have become a sort of AU on their own, and thus, you do not need to have read HDM to read this excellent fic. I definitely have not. There is angst, there is fluff, there is canon compliance. And there is Dai. Dai, Rhys’s corgi daemon, is probably not the one you would expect to steal the show, but he stole my heart. (I mean, Navi and Emma, Jack’s bear daemon and Ianto’s terrier daemon, adorable respectively...but Dai!) Expect to fall in love with Dai by ths end of this fic!

To Let by Amand_r

Ianto Jones is a good housemate.

(janto & lisaianto | complete | not rated | 12K)

Nik: Now this fic is a little bit different from the rest because it is not only second person POV but is also outside POV, which makes it slightly odd to read at first. But I can assure you, it is most definitely worth it. Ianto’s unnamed housemate makes for an interesting perspective into Ianto’s personal and domestic life as well as exploring his relationship with Jack. His housemate, of course, doesn’t remain one-sided, with loss and love and life of his own, but you can tell that his bond with Ianto is genuine. This fic provides a nice break from the explicit canon while still exploring familiar events.

Your Job Knows What It Is by ShastaFirecracker

Torchwood Three, 2045. Bram Hudson's just been recruited by Jack Harkness, it's xir first day of work, and orientation is being handled by some old man named Jones.

(janto | complete | gen | 9K)

Nik: Okay, I lied. This fic is outsider POV as well, but Bram is so well-written and complex even from the short while we have with xem. As an alternate to the previous fic, this one provides great, interesting exploration into a future, slightly different Torchwood while also serving as a COE fix-it fic. Older Ianto is just as badass as when he was younger, and the insights into his relationship with Jack are sweet and will leave you craving more.

Worrisome Heart by thepsychicclam

It's 1922. Ianto accidentally stumbles upon a speakeasy owned by Captain Jack Harkness. When Ianto becomes a bartender, he quickly learns how dangerous everything around him truly is, and more importantly, how dangerous Jack is. But the longer he knows Jack, the more he doesn't care.

(janto | complete | explicit | 42K)

Nik: This fic, this series in fact, is one of the only complete Historical AUs I have found in this fandom. Set in 1922 New York, it features all our beloved characters as completely human and sans Torchwood and aliens, which - of course - means that they can feel a bit OOC at first. Still, as you read on through this fic and its three sequels, you will realize just how well adopted the events and characterization from canon are. If you going in thinking of this as original work rather than fic, it might help you adjust to the differences. Quite well-written!

Intersecting Geodesics by NancyBrown

Stuck in a time with a Jack who hasn't met him yet, all Ianto wants is a way home.

(janto & jackjohn | complete | mature | 37K)

Nik: There are numerous “Ianto gets sent into the future by the Rift or an artifact and meets past!Jack” fics existing in this fandom, but this is one of my favorites. For one, it’s written by the incomparable author who has many, many excellent fics that I like. (Their smut is seriously topnotch, especially for some of your kinkier tastes if said tastes exist.) The distanced younger Jack provides just the right amount of angst, and his eventual fall for Ianto is built-up just enough to work believably. The resolution is satisfying enough, and the author has a few other fics in this series to keep you going!

For Captain and Cardiff by blackhemlock

"At midnight, a nationwide security alert was sent out... Torchwood London, demands all agencies' cooperation in issuing an arrest warrant for Ianto Merric Jones, 24, of Cardiff."

Torchwood Three's Archivist has gone rogue. But, he does have a very good reason, and he looks stunning in his new suit.

(janto & tenjack | complete | gen | 42K)

Nik: Admittedly, I will often be picky in my fics featuring the Tenth Doctor because of how he mistreated Jack, but this fic features a true-to-canon portrayal of Ianto and the Doctor that I adore. It does well in building up your expectations of Ianto and the Doctor’s encountering and then subverting it. There is also good room for Jack-Ianto angst, which only adds to my enjoyment of the fic. I don’t necessarily know how to explain it, but this fic also feels sleek and modern despite its timey-wimey elements.

What Dreams May Come by AVAAntares (@avaantares)

It's bad enough that a plague of alien parasites have fallen through the rift and are preying on Cardiff's citizens. It's worse that someone from Jack's past has come from the future to confront him on Earth. But when Jack himself is taken by the rift, Ianto and Gwen are forced to rely on the most unlikely of allies to keep Torchwood running without him.

Stranded in another century on a distant planet, Jack has only one hope of returning to Earth. But time travel with the Doctor has never been an exact science, and when he returns to Cardiff, things are not at all as he expects to find them...

(janto | complete | teen | 88K)

Nik: Honestly, I think one of my favorite parts of this fic may be the inclusion of an OC, Jamiya Thane, AKA Jack’s mother. I’m just a sucker for fandom’s takes on Jack’s canonical family and past as Javic Thane from Boeshane, and this plays into it well. It’s endearing to watch Jack’s found family, especially Ianto, interact with his mother. Also included is a rather brilliant time-travel mystery that will tug at your heartstrings on many levels. Excellent soft Jack-Ianto content in chapters and a creepy use of a one-off Doctor Who creature.

Ghost Story by Mad_Maudlin

I called out. "Would you like to hear a ghost story?"

For a moment Jack didn't move, and I knew he'd recognized my voice. After a moment he said, flatly, "I don't believe in ghosts."

"It's a complicated story," I admitted, and pulled the watch from my pocket by the chain. "And it starts with 'Long ago and far away.'"

(janto | complete | teen | 70K)

Nik: This fic! I passed this fic many times on my search for new fics to read, and the summary always threw me a bit, but when I decided to take a chance on it, I realized what I’d been missing out on. There’s so many fics in this fandom, and on this list, that take familiar tropes but twist them into something new, just like this fic. Without giving too much away, I can say that this fic features Time Lords, pocket watches, shifting POVs, and a COE fix-it, all packed with a brow-raising plot twist. It’s enough to make me forgive the first person POV, which I can usually not stand but actually works quite well for this fic! A fic worth reading at least once, if not many times. It feels so utterly unique!

Time Tracks by Cyborgtamaki (@cyborgtamaki) and thirteeninafez (@thirteeninafez)

It took him a second to realise what had happened; what had felt like hours while travelling through the rift shrunk itself in his head to a mere instant of searing gold. That’s when the flicker of the fire in front of him finally registered through his confused daze. In his haste to get away from the flames around him, he slipped and fell, scrambling back until he was a safe distance away from the smoke and the heat. It was only then that he took notice of the voices behind him. He turned towards the noise of a deep, northern voice spluttering and saying, confused and almost angry: “Who the hell are you?” The man rolled over onto his knees and stood up, looking around like he’d never seen a street before. “Jones.” He sounded uncertain but then spoke again with more confidence. “Ianto Jones.”

(janto & ninerose | complete | teen | 174K)

Nik: There’s many “Ianto travels with the Ninth Doctor and Rose” fics in this fandom, but this one is the longest, most recent, and one of the most excellent that I’ve read. The authors have written in-depth chapters of the Doctor Who Season 1 episodes we already know and adore as well as adding their own unique “episodes,” all of which are deeply enjoyable. There is excellent character interactions, specifically a wonderful Rose-Ianto friendship, and so much soft Jack-Ianto. The authors have, personally, promised several more installments coming by the end of the year or later, and they are sure to be worth the wait!

Club Wales by pocky_slash

In the wake of Jack's disappearance, Gwen finds comfort in a new friendship with Ianto. Gossip, bonding, and other hijinks of understanding ensue.

(gwenrhys & janto | complete | teen | 19K)

Nik: This author is single-handedly a Gwen-Ianto dynamic icon. Their grasp on Gwen and Ianto’s respective characterization is brilliant, and their friendship in this fic, and any fic the author writes, is well-fleshed out and believable enough for the moments we only really see on-screen briefly in the show. This fic, and overall series, serves as a compelling insight into how the team originally views Jack and how Gwen and Ianto grow closer. Gwen truly was one of Ianto’s big sister figures, which is excellently reflected in this fic. A must read!

Just this once by Beleriandings (@ultraviolet-eucatastrophe)

(Everybody lives.)

(Or: when a certain Doctor arrives to save Owen Harper from a stricken nuclear power station, it begins a chain of events that will lead Torchwood Three down a very different path. From time locks and telepathy to tea and coffee, high-speed chases to unresolved sibling issues, their new lives (and new and old loves) may be different, but their bonds of friendship and family grow stronger every day. But when every child on earth starts speaking with one voice, the team are torn apart again as they’re forced to fight for their lives, and to confront monsters they’d thought they’d left behind in the past. But with all of them working together – along with some allies they’ve made along the way – Torchwood Three will stop at nothing to save their friends and set the world to rights. The consequences will ripple out across the universe and into the distant future. But they have to start somewhere, and the present is as good a place as any.)

(janto & others | complete | teen | 239K)

Nik: Many fics are post-Exit Wounds and COE fix-its, at the same time, but dare I say that this one is the best? (Or one of the best at least.) The Tenth Doctor receives his own iconic “Everybody lives” moment, but that is only where this fic BEGINS. This beautiful monster, which I mean in the very best sense considering its length, traverses Exit Wounds, COE, and slightly Miracle Day and gives everyone a happy ending. In addition, the author, another friend of mine, I’ll be honest, manages to redeem and humanize Gray in a way I didn’t think possible, but I actually found myself liking him. This is definitely a must, must read, especially if you’re new to the fandom or just finished having your heart thrown out.

The Stars Might Stick You Where You Stand by methylethyl

Following the fall of Torchwood One, Jack Harkness went to ask Torchwood Three for a job. He didn’t expect to fall a little bit in love with its director, the practical and ever-calm Ianto Jones. He also probably didn’t expect that Ianto Jones would end up holding the answers to his most precious secret.

(janto | complete | explicit | 20K)

Nik: I’ll be honestly - I’m a sucker for role reversal AUs in any fandom, and this is one fic I see rarely mentioned or recced, which I think is a damn shame. It is definitely in my top five fics; I adore it so much. Jack is cast in the role of Ianto, gunning for a job at Torchwood Three after the fall of Canary Wharf. His “Lisa” is his desperate, life-long search for his brother Gray who was taken by Torchwood when they were both children. Ianto is, obviously, the immortal director of Torchwood Three, but what makes him even more compelling is the lack of direct reference to his AU past. We don’t know who this Ianto Jones was before he, like Jack, arrived in Cardiff in the 1800s, newly-immortal and ensnared into working for Torchwood. Instead, this fic, and series, focuses on a stretch of episodes from Season 1 intermingled with elements from Season 2, as well as subverting the expected team relationships. Jack and Ianto are believably different but still realistic in their characterization, and look, I adore this AU, which I’ve already said. A personal favorite and must read!

Cling to the Ways of My Name by engagemythrusters ( @iianto-jones)

If Ianto Jones thought his legacy would die out with him in Thames House, he was dead wrong.

(janto & gwenrhys | complete | teen | 37K)

Nik: Hopefully, you’ve already read this fic by now. If not, may I dare ask what you’ve been doing with your life? This is one of my favorite fics of all-time in this fandom, as well as my favorite kidfic ever. It’s so well-written and just so damn unique. I cannot capture in words what makes it so special, although I will try. Ioan Jones is the sweetest janto baby ever, and I love him with all my heart. Jack’s adventures raising Ioan are just so endearing, and later installments, which feature Ianto, serve to satisfy the domestic Jack-Ianto as parents craving you might not even have known you had. There’s just so many little details about this fic I love, including but not limited to - Jack’s found family in the Joneses, Ioan-Anwen friendship, and Ioan loving blue. A definite must read fic to give you the serotonin you need.

Waking Gods by toldthestars

Why are Ianto's dreams coming true? What's in the box with the symbol on it? Oh, and while we're at it, what's the meaning of the life?

(janto | complete | not rated | 7K)

Nik: This fic is another one with a completely unique premise in this fandom. In fact, there is only one other fic I’ve read that even gives me similar “vibes” for this fic. Here, Ianto suddenly finds himself gaining powerful, unexplainable abilities, essentially becoming a god, and oh my, this is excellent. Ianto is just trying to do good in the world, and the team’s growing fear and distrust of him and his power really sucker-punches you straight in the heart. It’s all so beautifully-written, with powerful imagery that left me awe-struck. The janto angst is oh-so-excellent. Reading this fic for the first time is an experience that I don’t believe can be replicated.

fool me once, fool me twice by princessoftheworlds (aka me)

When, after the events at the House of the Dead, the Rift spits Ianto out on an alien planet a thousand years later, so begins a goose chase that will take him across the universe and across time until he finds Jack again.

(janto & others | complete | explicit | 52K)

Nik: What kind of fic writer would I be if I created a list of fic recs for Torchwood and did not include one of my own? I consider this fic my masterpiece. The House of the Dead!Ianto get sucked through the Rift and spat out across time and space, turned into another fixed point, as he begins his search for Jack. I don’t know if I can say much else without it sounding like bragging, but it features - in no particular order - a happy ending for one, Ianto getting some badass adventures of his own, a sorta redemption arc for John Hart, numerous references to Big Finish, and too many spinoffs with more to come! Give it a shot, why don’t you?

#torchwood #torchwood fic recs #janto #jack harkness #ianto jones #gwen cooper #toshiko sato #owen harper #nik's fic recs #nik's torchwood fic recs #i'll figure out an actual tag later tbh #i wrote this all out in three hours #so i spent TIME on it #hope this doesn't flop lmao cause i could have and should have been studying #three upcoming midterms #and now i'm rambling

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rigginsstreet · 3 years

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Tell us how you'd write fp different from season one if u were in control 📝

ultimately id probably keep season one the same if we’re still keeping it r*verdale and not... parentdale lmao because then that becomes an entirely different show

but i do think he couldve been utilized a little more like we couldve done some things there.

first and foremost im making that bitch GAY and yes that is very important to his character but i dont need to tell you that. but the layers that would add bitch! the layers! oh but i also wouldve given him and hermione/the lodges a proper backstory because that shit was not explored okay like i made a post about it before how all these people went to school together and then hiram randomly calls fp up one day cuz he needs a plot of land cheapened by his presence ksjgbkjbg and then add on the whole thing with fp hermione and fred. bisexual love triangle i would like to see.

OH and i would like to see his relationship with the serpents explored more i need to see him actually being a leader and making deals and running shit PLUS how joaquin came to be his like.... second in command i mean i know he was being used to seduce kevin but i really need that backstory too lmfao i need to see that conversation and honestly i think fp pulled that from his own experiences like i can 100% see fp in his younger days having to flirt his way through some situations just to gain some knowledge about whatever. but ALSO!!!! if we had a parallel of fp seducing fred to get info for hiram and fp first agreeing to it cuz hes still pissed at fred but then shit gets complicated because obviously hes still in love with him and then fp starts feeling bad and then oh no fred finds out just when he was starting to maybe open himself up to the idea of being with fp again..... we truly couldve done so much. and then you have freds slutty ass being caught betwen his ex girlfriend and ex boyfriend while also being sad about his ex wife still. so much drama

its really not until season 2 that his character fucking derails. I WANTED TO SEE HIM ACTUALLY IN PRISON! HIM RUNNING THE YARD! PRISON FIGHTS! SEXY!

i would have liked an actual sobriety arc. he said he got sober in prison and was attending meetings and then poof. that ended immediately. and fine. we could keep that but like... at least show the struggle and the guilt over it ya know? also he did not struggle nearly enough for coming out of prison for DUMPING A DEAD TEENAGER IN A RIVER like that town truly shouldve been on his ass about that theres no WAY him working at pops wouldnt have caused a scene.

like my main problem with fp as a character is that he truly never suffers any consequences for anything but also hes written to have all these problems that are never dealt with or remotely explored. and for as much as i would love for that bitch to get some therapy i also realize its not entirely realistic for him as a character and thats fine! but i want to see him struggle i want to see him actually acknowledge he has demons to face and work at them in his own way and both fail and succeed.

ultimately what it all comes down to is he wasnt written as a person. which.... no one on this show is. they all just tick their little boxes of stereotypes and caricatures and its very annoying. if youre gonna give fp a drinking problem, show it! not just him passed out on the couch but him actually struggling. show him trying to get better and doing good for a while only to relapse, show how he actively has to make the choice every day not to drink. have him apologize to the people he hurt. let us see the actual damage it did to not just him but those around him.

give him relationships with other people that are fleshed out and actually matter. the fact that he never once checked in on fred after he was shot is INSANE to me. gladys was only ever used as throwaway lines that never went anywhere. he had an entire daughter he presumably never tried getting in contact with based on her reaction to see him again like....but yet he has her name tattooed over his heart? so either that was a hollow gesture to appease his own mind or he actually deeply loves her but was so ashamed of himself and what caused gladys to leave that he couldnt even pick up the phone to call them. SHOW ME THESE THINGS!

show us what the serpents meant to him as a kid who got thrown out by his father at 16 and found a family in them instead. show us why he wound up back there after fred fired him. show us why hes so bonded to them. hell, even if he just went back out of desperation because times were hard and no one else would hire him and he needed that easy money.... fucking explore that shit!

show us him forming these relationships with the younger gay serpents because hes got all this baggage from his own upbringing and he has a soft spot for kids like him and wants to protect them, even if it is through a drug running gang. show us that abuse fucks up your perception of love and how to do it but its all he knows so hes working with what hes got.

fp honestly works best as a tragic character. trying to do good but he can never quite make it. always drawn to shadier things because ultimately its what he knows and its where he feels safe. but he wants to be better at the same time! he just truly cannot help himself. and thats what needed to be explored more with him but not in a way that romanticized it. like he really is a fucked up person when you break him down and the fact we were all supposed to look at him as the hero or something is so bizarre to me and it never worked because we were expected to just forget everything he was.

hes not an evil guy either hes just deeply misguided because thats just the shit he grew up in and he doesnt know anything else. except for fred and what he saw with the andrews and that shouldve been an important relationship like they really couldve played on how opposite fred and fp are and used that to a narrative advantage, them being best friends. theres SO MUCH to be done with that but fuck me i guess.

idk i just always think about how fun fp wouldve been if they had just let him indulge in his devious ways like theres no way fp jones wouldve ever taken a cop job seriously and not used it to his own advantage. theres no way he wouldve been that bent out of shape about gladys running drugs when hes done SO MUCH worse. we shouldve gotten more scamming against hiram and him and hermione being in cahoots.

like hes a street rat. he will always be a street rat. he cannot shake this. fucking play with that! indulge in it! have fun! have him settle down with his husband but he still cant stop himself from living on the fringe of the law

#i went on a whole nonsensical tangent lmfao #it just pisses me off what fp couldve been!#fp jones #briana answers things

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akimmito · 4 years

Text

Heroes are made by the path they choose

Previous | AO3 | Next

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Chapter 4

Chloe Bourgeois is not having a good day, the National Assembly has spent the whole morning discussing the mayor's ridiculous decisions regarding the orders given to the MT and, indirectly, to the heroes regarding the danger of the new villain.

She's the youngest member of the 577 deputies that make up The National Assembly of the French Parliament, having the minimum age to enter the elections and having demonstrated her worth, far from the stigma of her father as mayor, she won a position. And she has been doing everything possible for the good of France (especially Paris, with the miraculous butterfly still loose).

The arrival of the first Akuma in seven years shocked the entire country. She knows the senate must be chaos too and not to say the presidency, she can only imagine the Elisha Palace on fire with everyone screaming as they run in all directions… Or, a similar scene, many adults almost yelling in panic while pretending not to panic. It's good that the meeting is held in private.

Which brings it back to the real reason for the whole discussion, since the events with Hawkmoth, the French Government has been more involved in what happens (which should have been from the beginning being because is the capital of the country) and they have been active in trying to laws allow arrest for embezzling the use of a prodigy (leading to a long list of crimes). And when she joined, she did her magic and started talking about a way to prevent someone from using the prodigies to misuse, making the MT an organization recognized by the Government for the protection of Paris (therefore, the heroes also have that faculty to be treated as part of a whole) and of France as a whole; they have access to the government, the MT is above the police in power to enforce the law, but always maintaining its independent character (not that someone should know it and she has said nothing, all to prevent Marinette from giving an attack for that).

The entire process involved each State Institution and lasted four months; it was stressful, but two months later, everything is going smoothly and the news no longer mentions prodigies, evidence of jewel magic and any non-butterfly mentions have been removed. Additionally, anyone posting information about the prodigies will face legal charges accordingly.

The only requirement for this was to provide a list of the official members (they didn't ask for identities knowing that it's dangerous), both teams gave their members and it was recently updated with the inclusion of Thuban.

Everyone is aware of the mayor's request and she's smirking, that inept is worse than her father. Ask the MT not to investigate a dangerous criminal who in just one day of his appearance caused at least a hundred deaths with her first Akuma? That the cure of Rakkīgāru (official name since last night, after making it clear that Ladybug is not a cloak with an immovable name) brings everything to its former state does not exonerate the murder.

France designed a maximum underground security prison protected with safeguards similar to those of the MT headquarters, where the most violent criminals are sent (so that they don't become weapons of the new criminal). Unfortunately the safeguards can't be put in all of Paris or they would start to cancel each other, so they use them for the important thing. Suzaku, who is Marinette's vigilant identity, is in charge of all the processes.

But going back to the important thing, she hopes that a new law will be created or the status of the MT within France will be made public.

She, of course, understands Felix and Marinette's plan. Agreeing not to investigate is another way to investigate while relaxing from active work because they went so far to say that the patrols are canceled for the entire week and if they ask, it was the mayor. And it was the two days of silence that led the vice president of the country that morning to send a message to the MT (something funny, if they ask her, just two days and they worry) and, therefore, to find out that the mayor asked them without giving an explanation (said by Corvus, Felix was very specific with his concerns about it and that they didn't want to cause problems with the government). That generated all the meetings she knows are happening.

At lunchtime, she escapes to the MT in search of Marinette or Felix, to tell her about government disaster they caused, to discover that the demonic blonde is in Romania supervising the recording of a movie and that Marinette went to her country house. Oh well, she can tell they after the chaos comes to an end. The only thing she finds is Kagami being hugged by Luka to appease her anger, a gracefully adorable image in her eyes.

____________

Alizee @AlizeeShin_

In my opinion, the government has reacted well to the return of the butterfly. I lived in Paris nine years ago and the government then did nothing. Good for us!

Elliot Renault @Elliot_Renault

The MT has been silent since the Akuma appeared, they have not been seen on the streets or on the roofs. The Government is treating the matter as the problem that it is, since today the institutions were in full swing and surely we will soon have news about it.

Chloe B. @QueenBourgeois

I need urgent vacations, a break from all this madness would be good. I 'm sure that all of Paris has the same desire.

Michel J. Laforet @LaforetLeGrand_

Such a scandal about a man, perhaps the heroes are not so heroic. They only accumulate failures.

Chloe B. @QueenBourgeois

@LaforetLeGrand Soon, all of Paris will know that it was your father, the ridicule that she asked the MT not to investigate, today at 8:00 pm on the National Chain;) ___________________

As the French Parliament catches fire figuratively and almost literally, Marinette is engaged in her little investigative work on the Mayor of Paris and his son, especially his creepy son, still remembering that he had to deter Damian, five months ago, from assaulting his home and murdering him (using methods intended to cause the greatest physical pain as he dies) for harassing her during a party (which they went to just because Chloe took them). Damian was ready to pounce on Michel with the first sharp thing in hand when he saw him put a hand on her butt; in the end, it was Felix who sent him flying politely with an explicit threat in his words.

"Mother, you are still working..." Damian is not happy, especially when he sees the face of the man who dared to lay hands on his mother without his consent (man who should be dead). He doesn't understand why she investigates them.

"I'm just curious, Pierre Laforet doesn't seem like the type who would want to sabotage our work."

"Yeah, Michel Laforet doesn't seem like a sexual depraved either, and I'm sure he's capable of raping a poor defenseless lady." There is poison in his words, he still wants to see him writhe in agony as life slowly leaves him. No man has the right to approach his mother with such impure thoughts.

"Could be..." She replies distractedly, reading on the surface, if she want to go deeper into them, she must do it from the MT.

"Mother, let's play with the dogs. They are happy to see you, too. ”Damian tightens her shirt sleeve to get her attention, not that he enjoys acting like the ten-year-old he is, but his mother needs a break from everything that stresses her out.

"Uh, fine." She closes the laptop and agrees to go out and play with the dogs, which are huge and knock her down as soon as she goes out into the yard, as a bonus, they also do it with Damian and the two ofthem are being overwhelmed with doggy love for four adult dogs, two puppies and a black cat (which is like a miniature dog for being raised by the two German Shepherds), Dafne only watches from the bottom in disgust.

Hugo watches everything from the kitchen window, listening slightly to Marinette's laughter and Damian's humorous complaints. The employees whisper beside her about how excitable canines are with their owners.

Those little happy moments are necessary to face the difficulties that arise and enjoy them to the best of your ability.

__________

Violet @SilkenLavanda

There was an explosion in or near the Louvre... I can see the fire from here. I doubt it's an Akuma...

Paris News @ParisNewsTWT

An explosion is reported around the Louvre Museum, people are invited to keep their distance. Authorities confirm that the cause was a bomb, two fatalities and eleven wounded. More information in the 6 o'clock newsletter.

Max K. @ MaxKan_Tech

What was missing…

#maribat #dickinette #dick x marinette #ml x dc

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stillness-in-green · 5 years

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Shigaraki, the League and “Redemption”

(In this post: 1700 words about how much I feel like stories/meta in which Shigaraki is rescued or redeemed miss the entire point of Shigaraki.)

It's a big open question how much of Shigaraki's backstory was engineered by All For One. We're not even sure if AFO is the villain who killed Nana's husband, the event that kicked off the entire downward spiral of the Shimura family, much less what degree of involvement he had in Tenko's manifestation of Decay. There's a tremendous amount of well-thought-out, interesting meta and fic about what will happen when Shigaraki finds out the truth, whether he can or should still be redeemed as he currently stands, or how Tenko might have been saved from ever becoming Shigaraki to begin with. While I have read and enjoyed quite a lot of those theories and stories, I still find myself bothered by the prevalence of that line of thought because it ignores the fact that hero society stands condemned regardless.

Whether or not AFO gave Tenko the Decay quirk knowing what would happen, whether he found out about Tenko the night of the accident or never lost track of Kotaro from the very beginning, in truth, none of that matters to the narrative of the League on the whole. Nothing about Shigaraki's past has any bearing on the pasts of the other members. Trying to decide how to "save" Shigaraki avoids the fact that he is the leader of the League of Villains and their pain still stands regardless of their leader's history.

You cannot act as though saving Shigaraki--with All Might, Inko, Izuku, Eraserhead, anyone--would redeem hero society, because Shigaraki is not hero society's only victim. He's not even its most straightforward one! The condemnation he articulates of the world he lives in can't be addressed by him realizing he was manipulated by AFO all along or getting a good therapist in prison, because the world he lives in has failed a good many more people than just him.

Let's break it down.

The League Members

Twice fell through the cracks because of a lack of social support after his parents were killed in a villain attack. He was just a teenager back then--what arrangements were made about where he was going to live? If he was old enough that foster care/being placed in a group home wasn't a good option, did he instead have a stipend from the government? Where was the social worker who should have been overseeing his case? Where was his homeroom teacher when he dropped out of school? What support should have been available when he wound up homeless on the streets? Heroes stop villains and are rewarded both socially and monetarily for doing so, but the much more difficult and involved work of dealing with the fallout from those battles is clearly undervalued, badly so, in comparison. Hero society, which prioritizes glamorized reaction over everyday prevention, failed Bubaigawara Jin.

Spinner had the wrong kind of face. X-Men-style mutant discrimination left him isolated and alienated, shunned by the inhabitants of his backwater hometown because of his animal-type quirk. To say nothing about the threat of violent hate crimes implied by the existence of a KKK analogue! But it goes further than just the bigotry of his neighbors--Spinner's quirk was also unremarkable, meaning that, in a society that prizes flashy and offense-based quirks in its heroes, Spinner would have had few if any role models. Given how many heroes there are, it seems strange to consider that there isn't a single straightforward heteromorph for Spinner to idolize, but given how strongly he latches onto first Stain's warped ideals and later Shigaraki's nihilistic grandeur, Spinner is clearly a young man desperate for a role model--if a hero that fit the bill existed, he wouldn't be a villain today. So he's failed directly by his community for their bigotry and indirectly by society for the way it told him, in a thousand ways big and small, that Iguchi Shuuichi was not a person worth valuing.

Toga had the wrong kind of quirk. It's true that, more than anyone else in the League, she feels like a character who would always have struggled with mental stability, even with the best help imaginable--but she didn't get the best help imaginable, did she? She got parents who called her a freak, who berated a child barely into grade school about how unnatural and awful the desires she was born with were. She was put into a quirk counselling program that apparently only caused her to feel more detached from society. If Curious' characterization of quirk counselling is at all accurate, it seems to focus not on how to manage one's unusual or difficult quirk in healthy or productive ways, but rather on stressing what society considers "normal," on teaching its participants how to force themselves into that mold. Hero society wants people with different needs to learn how to function like "normal" people; it is unwilling to look for ways to accommodate such people on a societal level. Toga Himiko was failed by a society that demonized and othered her for a trait that she did not choose and innate desires that she never asked to experience.

And then, most prominently of all*, there's Dabi. We all know where the big Dabi backstory mystery is going, and his is the most open condemnation of hero society of them all. Dabi was raised on a heady cocktail, parental abuse mixed liberally with unquestioned acceptance of the fundamental importance of having a powerful quirk. Whatever else can be said of Endeavor's path to redemption, the old Enji is emblematic of everything wrong with hero society: the fundamental devaluing of those without power, the fervent strain to push oneself past one's limits over and over and over again, regardless of the consequences to your health or your relationships, the practice of raising children to glorify a dangerous profession that fights the symptoms of societal ills rather than the root causes. The ugly secrets hidden in the Todoroki house are the ugly secrets hidden within hero society's ideals, and because he embodies those ideals so thoroughly, of course Endeavor is lionized and well-paid by a society that never had to see Todoroki Touya's scars.

Mirror of Reality

All of these issues map to things in real life, and I don't only mean in a vague, universal sense--I mean they reflect on specific and observable Japanese problems. Read up on koseki family registries and consider how the dogged insistence on maintaining them impacted the Shimura family, tracked down by a monster. Look into societal bias against orphans and imagine how it shaped peoples' reactions to teenaged Jin and his alleged 'scary face.' Read up on how Japan approaches mental and physical disabilities, on what it regularly does to homeless camps, on what responses get trotted out when someone comes forward with a story about closeted abuse. The League embodies these issues in indirect, sometimes fantastical ways, but they're not what I would call subtle, either; there's a reason the generally poor, disenfranchised League members are contrasted with powerful, urbane criminals like All for One, callous manipulators like Overhaul, and entrenched pillars of society like Re-Destro.

Hero AUs are a fun thought exercise and all, but the League exists to call out and typify very real problems in heroic society and, by metaphorical extension, modern day Japanese society as well. Hero society studiously looks away from its victims. It doesn't want to see them and it thinks even trying to talk about them is disruptive and distasteful. There's no indication in-universe that there's even a movement trying to change this state of affairs. Certainly there are a great many things that could have changed to spare the BNHA world Shigaraki Tomura, but none of those quick, easy solutions would have saved Twice or Toga, Spinner or Dabi. The League of Villains is the punishment, the overdue reckoning that their country will have to face for its myriad failures--for letting its social safety nets grow ragged, for failing to stamp out quirk-based prejudice, for allowing its heroes to operate with so little oversight. For growing so complacent that not one person had the moral wherewithal to extend a hand to a bloodied, lost, suffering child.

Shigaraki, Past and Future

One of the most heartbreaking and yet awe-inspiring aspects of Shigaraki's characterization in his Deika City flashback is that he was thoughtful and compassionate enough to reach out to other kids who were being excluded and teased by the rest of his peer group. The League is foreshadowed for him even as a child, because even back then, he was a kid suffering repression and repudiation and so had empathy for others in similar straits. Young Tenko is the person who would have reached out a hand to the scary but obviously needy Tenko wandering the streets; Tomura, despite everything All For One did to him, still retains that core of fellow-feeling that invites other outcasts to play with him.

"Saving" Shigaraki without addressing the societal flaws that created the people gathered under his banner negates the entire point he and the League exist to raise. I think readers will be forced to confront those flaws alongside Midoriya and the rest of his classmates, who the story has made a point to keep mostly isolated and on a steady PLUS ULTRA diet of all the same rhetoric that leads to consequences like the League to begin with. I only wish more of the fandom--hero and villain fandom alike--was on the same page and writing their fic and meta accordingly.

Footnotes and Etc.

*The only characters in the League whose backstories we don't have much window on are Mr. Compress and Magne, both of whom are framed as seeing society as repressive. Magne openly says as much to Overhaul; Mr. C intimates it to the 1-A kids during the training camp attack. I'm inclined to hold off on commenting on them very thoroughly, though, because in neither case do we know exactly what drove them to crime in the first place. That's not a huge problem for Sako--if anyone on that team is into flamboyant villainy for the sheer joy of it, it's him--but I would definitely want to know more specifics about Magne's personal history before I correlate her experience as a trans woman with her portrayal as a violent, even lethal, criminal. That would get right into the problematic elements of portraying all these societal outcasts as villains, people who undoubtedly have a point, but have taken to terrorism to illustrate it. It's very possible that, for all that the League maps to real problems in Japan, we're still going to get a very mealy-mouthed, "But it's still wrong to lash out when you could protest nonviolently and work with your oppressors to seek a peaceful solution," moral from all this.

P.S. None of the above meta even takes into account the multiple non-League characters whose stories illustrate various failings of hero society--Gentle Criminal, Hawks, Shinsou, even Midoriya himself, as those endless reams of Villain!Deku AUs are ever hasty to expound upon. Vigilantes touches on the idea of "hero" and "villain" categorizations as being almost entirely political in their inception, as is also hinted at with historical characters like Destro. Seriously, the mountain of problems with hero culture just looms higher with every passing arc!

P.P.S. I absolutely do not mean to imply with this meta that Japan suffers uniquely from any of the problems discussed above. Other countries obviously have their own difficulties with homelessness, accessibility of care, victim blaming, and so forth. Horikoshi is writing in and about his own culture, though, and stripping Shigaraki of his villainous circumstances in the interest of making him happier and/or more palatable strikes me as being kind of culture-blind in a way that it’s very easy for Western fans to unthinkingly slip into. Just some food for thought.

#shigaraki tomura #tomura shigaraki #league of villains #boku no hero academia #bnha meta #my hero academia #my writing #bnha

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raxgond · 4 years

Photo

@gw2commanderweek

COMMANDER WEEK: ORIGINS

My entry is a little late because the artwork wound up taking more time than I hoped it would! The post for the Commander Week event says that late entries are totally fine though - so hopefully it’s okay I’m posting this a day later than it should be!

So before I launch into an explanation of how this image applies to the theme, I first would like to state that my canonical commander character seen here (Cento - this isn’t his full in-game name) is actually something of a co-commander with two other characters of my own (who I’m going to call Rea and Lyri for short). Cento is one of my oldest characters, dating long before I ever played / signed up to GW2, so his in-game version is basically a Tyrian AU of my original character. His backstory is loosely based off of that, but modified to fit into GW2′s overall lore / story / setting instead!

Some of the things I’m going to be revealing in this post I’ve literally never told anyone about concerning his storyline / backstory / character. Trigger / content warning for abuse / trauma / (possible ableism / racist) themes below the Read More.

Where does your Commander come from? What were their goals and aspirations?

Cento is an asura, and like many of them, was born in Rata Sum and “destined for greatness,” as it were. As a young progeny, he had originally set his sights on studying the Eternal Alchemy, as its inner mechanisms of the world largely fascinated him, and he hoped to one day attend the College of Synergetics so that he might understand more of the very fabric of reality. However, things didn’t really turn out that way...

How did they grow up? Who influenced them when they were young and impressionable?

The asura and sylvari have quite a bit of history together, unfortunately. It all started with the firstborn sylvari, Malomedies, whose brilliant mind was torn apart, according to Caithe, by the asura and their unparalleled quest for knowledge. Their ruthlessness and cruelty is one of the incidences that went on to inspire secondborn Cadeyrn to found the Nightmare Court, to break free of the shackles of Ventari’s Tablet; after all, why should the sylvari have to follow these teachings, when other races clearly did not? Being naive meant you’d be taken advantage of. Trampled on. The Nightmare Court wanted to infect the Dream with their poison, so that their race as a whole could see with clarity the reality of the world, and ascend to their true purpose, not the chains of an outdated centaur they had never even known.

While there are some members of the Nightmare Court far more noble, and think they are in the right, who only wish to help their race as a whole, it is all too true that there are many who simply delight in tormenting others, and causing pain and suffering where-ever they may go. A group of some such courtiers sprang up, remembering the injustices done to their people by the asura, and targeted one of the labs in which the progeny were learning their first lessons. Cento was amongst this group, and fell victim to the Nightmare Court’s wrath, trapped as a prisoner for years within their clutches and subjected to their various tortures until he was finally freed by another group of sylvari whose Wyld Hunt was to liberate those taken by the court.

This incident continued to shape Cento’s personality and mental health state over the years, as well as his fellow remaining trauma-survivors, those who hadn’t succumbed to the wounds and the pain inflicted on their bodies, proving too much for their grasp on this world. Unfortunately, what had happened took a toll on him, and the previous course he’d set out for his life was too triggering for him to pursue. Instead of joining the College of Synergetics, he decided to enroll in Statics, instead, and put aside his desire to study the Eternal Alchemy, as it had been one of the reasons his lab group in particular had been targeted. However, due to his C-PTSD symptoms, he struggled to fit into society and his peers around him, feeling distanced from his own kind.

Asura are... often not so gentle when they believe another life form lacks the intelligence that they do. Dissociation can be mistaken for being “air-headed” - and even though Cento was far from being “dull-witted,” as it were, his college-mates didn’t see it that way. Once he’d graduated from Statics, instead of joining a krewe as-is custom for one of the asura race, he decided to embark on his own instead, wanting to remove himself from the asuran culture as there was no-one there he felt close to, like he could trust. Instead, he joined the Durmand Priory, his desire for knowledge not entirely quelled - and was immediately assigned to Magister Sieran, his mentor.

Cento had mixed feelings about the sylvari race as a whole at this point; while it was true his tormentors were of their race, it was equally true that those who had saved him from their clutches were as well. Naturally, Cento was rather wary of Sieran at first, especially when she seemed to detour wildly off the task at hand, but when their “little side-trip” wound up with the two saving a group of kidnapped Priory Explorers, he very quickly warmed up to her, solidly placing her in the same category as his saviors, as he felt she was very much akin to them from her actions that day.

Sieran is the first true friend that Cento ever had, and one of the few that really understood him entirely. She’s the only person in his life up to that point he felt entirely comfortable around, as though he could truly be himself without expectations or worry. It’d be a real shame if anything ever happened to her, wouldn’t it?

About this image/prompt.

Specifically, this image is supposed to be a depiction of Cento’s nightmares, which is why he’s wearing his present-day outfit / is depicted as an adult here instead of a progeny. I also included a target-symbol in the background as symbolism for him being “in the sights” so to speak of those who have ill-intention. The text is asuran script; I’ll be wildly curious to see if anyone manages to translate it.

Furthermore, I’m very sorry if anyone was actually expecting something fun / nice / that this totally went sideways from what the theme was supposed to be. My character’s backstory is obviously not very fun since he’s a trauma survivor and deals with heavy C-PTSD and dissociation. Some of what I wrote here is very vague because it’s not actually my intention to upset anyone. Also, I don’t exactly intend to fully get into all the details of what happened; there’s a lot more to this than what I’ve written down here but I think I’ve said enough for now. Just know that I’ve really thought about his backstory a lot and how his trauma would wind up effecting everything he does and feels. It’s very much a part of his character, and it’s also a bit of a personal subject to me, too.

Also... rip. I think we all know what happens at Claw Island so.

TL;DR honestly Cento is not having a great time. His story’s very chaotic to be honest but also a little therapeutic / cathartic to me for various reasons.

#gw2commanderweek #guild wars 2 #gw2 #asura #my art #ocs #cento

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vertanimeni · 4 years

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the ice will start to break, the day will fade away (5/18)

Summary:

“Have you heard? The Elephant of Caocin has committed high treason!”

From Trikru’s most reputable war hero to Trikru’s most wanted traitor, Kova found themselves stripped of their titles and trapped between a clan that wants them dead and a camp of invaders - the same ones who kidnapped and tortured their brother.

But Kova was willing to do anything to stay alive and keep their family together.

Pairing: Bellamy/Grounder OC

Word Count: 6,277

TW: Canon typical violence, injuries.

A/N: Hi hi! After some convincing from my friends, I decided to post this series here :D I’ve already finished with season 1 and half of season 2, I’m just in the middle of re-writing and editing. If you’re reading through my blog, the read more does not show up due to Tumblr’s new formatting, so please click on the post itself. I’ll be updating every other day at 12pm EST. Anyways, hope you enjoy it!

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⟻ Previous Chapter || Masterlist || Next Chapter ⟼

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v. intervention.

The sole fact that the Ankwon Bridge stood tall and proud despite the dry creek underneath, despite having gone through neglect, a nuclear war, renovation, and more neglect, was an impressive feat on its own. The debris scattered across the floor and the crumbling sides and edges made it quite obvious that it had been abandoned, or at the very least, hadn’t been used as often, for trading or otherwise. After all, there were faster routes to get to southwest Trikru, and with no villages or people for miles down this road, it became an unpopular course.

Which is why Kova couldn’t hide their surprise when they found someone casually leaning against the railings, as if she had been waiting there for a while now.

Knowing their tendency to accidentally sneak up on others, Kova made sure to step with a bit of extra pressure on a few dried leaves and twigs. Octavia turned at the noise. Her eyes landed on Kova, and she gave them a wry smile. They dipped their head in acknowledgment. Octavia might be Lincoln’s… interest, but that didn’t mean Kova would drop their guard just for—

“No sword to the throat? I thought you liked me?” Octavia couldn’t help but tease, a sly smile on her face.

The muscle underneath Kova’s eyes twitched. They blinked once. twice. Octavia could have sworn for a brief second she saw the corners of their lips twitch, too. Suddenly Kova’s chest spasmed as a light laugh tumbled out without restraint.

Alright. Maybe they could warm up to her.

Once they calmed down and cleared their throat (pointedly ignoring Octavia’s wide eyes), they held out their forearm. Without hesitation, Octavia gripped theirs with her own, and her smile was much more natural when they squeezed lightly.

“Wanna sit with me while we wait for the others?” She asked.

“…mn.”

Since they were early, the two sat on the edge of the bridge, legs hanging over the side and arms resting on top of the lower railings. And to Octavia’s shock, Kova easily plopped down by her side, letting their shoulders touch.

“Lincoln talked about you a lot.” There was no hint of malice in Octavia’s tone, just curiosity. “He mentioned why you can’t take off the mask. Don’t worry, I’ll do my best to make sure you can stay with us while everything clears up.”

“Mn. Thank you. I appreciate it.” They faced her and bowed their head slightly. “He talked about you as well.”

Well. More like gushed. A lot. He had been telling Kova as much as he could about Octavia, probably to put the woman in a favorable light. But she was doing just fine on her own.

Her cheeks flushed at their words.

After that, conversation flowed out naturally. After all, both sides were equally curious about the other. Octavia spoke about how difficult life was on the Ark. She spoke of the prison system, her trauma of being thrown in the sky box just for being born (and that added a whole new conversation topic on the Ark’s justice system — Octavia never thought she would see the day where she had to explain how the justice system worked and try to defend the justification behind her imprisonment, but here she was.)

But she also spoke of the parties, the view of the moon and stars and the sun with its solar flares, and how different and freeing it was to live here, with friends, clean fresh air, and the ticklish grass underneath her feet (although she had to admit, she hated the mosquitoes and bugs that tried to sneak in her tent.)

Octavia had to admit, she liked the way Kova listened intently while they watched the distant landscape, with a few hums of acknowledgments and agreements, a few frowns and worried glances when she mentioned the sky box and her “crimes.” Almost exactly like how Lincoln had reacted when she told him.

“What about you? What’s your sob story?” She couldn’t help but ask at the end of her history.

Seeing as Octavia laid out most, if not all her history and secrets and worries bare to them, Kova couldn’t help but want to do the same. Well, not all their secrets, maybe not even most, but more than anyone would know.

(Except for Lincoln, of course. He knew everything.)

So Kova explained what it was like to live on Earth. They spoke about Trikru, about how Trikruvians are expected to train in the militia for 20 years before they’re allowed to opt out, how they themselves so desperately wanted to opt out early and work full time in prosthetic handling, something they thoroughly enjoyed on the side. They spoke about how tired they were of training, of fighting battles after battles, wars after wars (Kova could tell Octavia sat up a little straighter, as if she wanted to delve more into that topic, but Kova sent her their most nicest glare and she thankfully didn’t press into that open wound.)

But they also spoke of the ceremonies and celebrations, the drinks and foods with spices so ferocious tears would bundle at the corners of their eyes, the delicate warmth of fire after a night of fishing in the river, the stars and moon twinkling above them, the smell of the earth after it rains, and the way the trees move with the winds.

(They told her they hated the bugs just as much, if not more, than she did. And if they get the chance to, they would show her which plants keep them away.)

A comfortable silence fell between them as the sun began to rise higher in the sky. Both of them needed a moment to gather their bearings. After all, two weeks ago they hadn’t known the other person even existed, and in Octavia’s case, she was getting used to the fact that she was practically an alien on a planet her ancestors were from.

Surprisingly (or maybe not, due to the nature of their question), Kova broke the silence with, “Can I ask what your intentions are with my brother?”

Octavia nearly choked on her spit. She leaned over the railing as she coughed, but eventually broke out into a laugh. “Are you giving me a shovel talk?”

Thumping her back, Kova couldn’t help but soften their eyes. “No. But I am curious.”

“Huh. Well, I’m interested in your brother.” Octavia’s cheeks flushed. She suddenly found her nails interesting and picked at them. “Really interested.”

“Do you like him?”

“Yeah.” She would have been more shocked at her quick answer if she hadn’t known her feelings already. “I do. A lot.”

Of course, this entire time Octavia knew she had been talking with Kova, Lincoln’s sibling. But it suddenly struck her as fast as a train that this was Lincoln’s sibling. As in the person closest to him in the entire world. Shouldn’t she be proving her feelings towards their brother? Shouldn’t she say more than ‘I like him a lot?’

“Mn.” Kova nodded slowly, unaware of Octavia’s sudden flustered panic. “Good.”

Octavia paused. “Good?”

“Good. As long as he’s happy, you don’t have to worry about me.”

A pause.

Ah.

So it was a shovel talk.

The two made eye contact. Octavia was the first to burst out into a light laugh, one that made the corners of Kova’s lips quirk up. Yeah. They could see where Lincoln’s infatuation came from.

Their conversation ended when Kova’s ears picked up the crunch of leaves and twigs in the forest closest to them. They snapped their head to the side, alerting Octavia. The two stood up just as three figures came out of the forest. Despite Kova’s mask in the way, Octavia understood the questioning look they gave her, and gave them a safe nod.

One girl, presumably Clarke, and two boys, one of which Kova easily recognized as Finn, the boy Lincoln had stabbed.

“So that’s how you set this up.” Clarke’s eyes glanced between the boys behind her and Octavia. “You helped that grounder escape, didn’t you?” An all too familiar accusatory tone laced her words.

That word didn’t seem nice. Hmm. She reminded Kova of General Tristan. That was already a bad sign. Before Octavia could respond, Kova stepped in between her and Clarke. “The ‘grounder’ you speak of is my brother,” Kova bit out, “and it was I who rescued him.”

“You? How?”

Kova dipped their head ever so slightly, locking eyes with Clark dead on. “If you truly do not know, then I believe you should update your security measures.”

To Octavia, Kova’s personality did a complete 180 compared to who she had been talking to a few moments beforehand. Now she understood what Lincoln had meant when he said, ‘They might be cold to you at first, maybe even sharp, but once you get to know them, they’ll warm up.’ They were neither of those things when they had started talking, but now…

Their straight and tall posture displayed for all the confidence of someone who had expertise of these situations, of someone who took no shit, of someone who had been there, done that. Kova’s presence certainly created a challenging atmosphere, one that Lincoln would find in handy.

Clarke, poor Clarke, grew both uncomfortable and seemingly irritated at the sudden switch in the situation, her face going tight and her eyebrows wrinkling. “I see. Who are you? Are you the one I’m meeting with today?”

Kova didn’t respond, they merely stared at her. The skin under their eyes twitched, a movement Octavia recognized from before. Ah. She wanted to smack herself in the forehead for not realizing, and she suddenly found herself in the same place as Kova, struggling to hold back her laugh.

Imagine? Imagine if Kova had been the Lieutenant? Imagine if the sky people had tortured the brother of the Lieutenant they were meeting with today? What a stroke of bad luck that would have been — the sky people wouldn’t even be able to negotiate a way out of their situation. Hell, they would be fortunate if they made it out of the bridge alive.

Oh, to most people Clarke’s face seemed stone cold, but Octavia could practically feel the panic thrumming in waves from the sky people’s leader. Taking pity, she took charge. “This is Kova.” Octavia placed a hand on their shoulder. “They’re the one helping us today with Lieutenant Anya.”

They raised an eyebrow at that. “The Lieutenant? Not the Chief?”

“Nope, Lincoln said it would be best to skip the Chief and went straight to the Lieutenant. I was shocked too.”

Octavia truly had intense whiplash from Kova’s sudden personality change, and didn’t know how to respond when they gave her a succinct nod. Thankfully, Octavia didn’t have time to over think it, because Kova started talking.

“My brother, despite everything, was kind enough to set up this meeting between you and the Lieutenant. You must provide her with good reasons why Trikru shouldn’t declare war. If she thinks it is sound, then she will pass the message on to the Commander. Did you prepare?”

“Naturally. I—” Clarke paused. Something caught her attention behind Kova. But just as Kova turned to look, something bright shined across their eyes for a brief moment. Their gaze turned to the tree line over the bridge. They switched their gaze to Octavia when her warm hand left their shoulder. She ran across the bridge to—

Lincoln.

He jogged towards them from the other side. He must have came after talking with the Lieutenant. Kova used the distraction to coax Clarke to the side of the bridge. She followed with little reluctance, as if knowing what Kova would say.

They jutted their chin towards the bank of the dry creek. Clarke’s back-up contrasted severely against the green bushes. Kova’s mere presence seemed to have forced Clarke’s back-up out of their hiding spot behind the bushes for a better view.

“Guns aren’t permitted. If the Lieutenant sees them, she’ll kill you on the spot.” Kova stated. “But seeing as you all seemed to have been taught to use them, you are allowed to have use them, so long as those three,” They jutted their chin once more. “can hide properly. I have to say, it is physically hurting me to see how careless they are.”

Flustered, Clarke turned around to face the trio. She signaled them to move back, to hide themselves lower in the thickets. Once they were concealed properly, Clarke gave Kova a silent nod of gratitude before heading back to the others waiting for her.

Kova remained where they stood. They stared silently into the distance before turning their sharp gaze on the trio. Based on the rustling of the bushes, Kova must have startled them. Satisfied with their coverage, they sent them a thumbs up before heading back to their position.

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It had been a struggle to set up the guns at the bank of the dried river, but Raven, Jasper, and Bellamy managed to make it work despite all the foliage around them. Jasper muttered under his breath in the background while Raven and Bellamy remained posted by the guns. The two figured it was best for him to let off some steam by organizing their water and snacks.

Raven looked through the optic of her rifle towards the bridge. Her eyebrows furrowed. “Hey, where did Octavia come from?”

The fear that shot throughout Bellamy was enough for him to grab his rifle and peep through the optic. Jasper followed suit and said, “Who’s the grounder next to her?”

Well, they certainly weren’t the grounder that escaped the camp not too long ago. That one was bald, brown skinned, and tall. This one had long dreads, dark skin, and although they were tall, they weren’t as tall as the other one. There wasn’t much else they could say about the new grounder, since an intricate mask covered the entirety of their face.

“Do you think that’s who Clarke’s supposed to meet?”

“Don’t know, don’t care.” Bellamy muttered before taking aim.

Raven immediately pushed his gun down by the muzzle, an appalled look on her face. “Bellamy, what do you think you’re doing?”

He pulled his gun back, his famous scowl back on his face. “Waiting for this shitshow to blow up.”

“What—?”

Before Raven could scold him, Jasper interrupted with, “Guys, somethings going on.”

The three of them looked through the opticals. There was movement in the trees opposite of their side of the bridge before someone came jogging out. It was the same grounder they had captured!

“What’s Octavia doing— Oh.”

Octavia had practically thrown herself into the grounder’s arms. The two embraced one another tightly. There was no question what their relationship could possibly be.

Jasper felt his heart sink deep into his chest, a pain strong enough to make the scar throb.

“Well, I guess we know how he got away now.” Raven remarked with a smirk, unaware of Jasper’s change in mood and purposefully ignoring the way Bellamy seethed with anger. Her eyes flickered back to their side of the bridge. “We got movement with Clarke and the new grounder.”

The trio watched carefully. To their shock, the grounder jutted their head directly towards them without sparing a glance. For a moment, the trio panicked, under the assumption that they had been caught by this grounder leader, and thus destroying the chance at a deal. But because of the mask, they couldn’t tell the grounder was still talking until, to their shock, Clarke turned and signaled for them to move farther back behind the foliage.

The trio did as told without hesitation.

Once Clarke felt satisfied, she nodded to the grounder, as if showing her thanks, and made her way back to Wells and Finn. Huh.

“What was that about?”

“Are both grounders helping us?”

The grounder hadn’t moved, even long after Clarke left their presence. Now that they were heavily covered by surrounding bushes, Bellamy knew there was little to no way the grounder could directly see them. But as he peered through his optical, the grounder seeemd to have looked straight at him. He hated the shudder that ran up his spine.

After a moment, as if scanning their area, the grounder sent them a discreet thumbs up before turning away and heading out of sight.

“It seems like we have a new friend?” Raven elbowed Bellamy’s side. Not wanting to decipher whatever look she was giving him, he turned away.

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Back on the bridge, Kova joined the rest of the group and clapped Lincoln’s shoulder. “How’s everything?”

He nodded briefly. “The Lieutenant is pissed, but she’s willing to—”

The bridge under their feet rumbled, followed by the sounds of hoofbeats. The two Trikruvians winced at the familiar noise, but the invaders had no idea what it was, and their eyes flickered across the bridge in a crazed panic.

Clarke looked past the group and towards the other side of the bridge. “Oh my god,” Her mouth dropped slightly in excited shock, “are those horses?”

“Don’t look too happy about it.” Kova muttered.

Three horses came into view, Anya in the lead with two warriors beside her. The two warriors carried swords, but it seemed the Lieutenant did not.

“Hey, we said no weapons.” Finn protested, placing him between Clarke and the other side.

“We were told there wouldn’t be.” Lincoln glanced at Kova, as if to say ‘guess you were right.’

“It’s too late now.” Clarke brushed past Finn and made her way to the middle of the bridge.

He and Wells sent each other a look before stepping forward, as if to follow her. Until Kova and Lincoln stuck their arms out, shaking their head. “No. She has to go alone.”

“But—”

“I’ll take responsibility. I won’t let anything happen to her — you have my word.” They placed a hand on Wells’ shoulder, as sturdy as their gaze. Wells and Finn glanced at one another, then to Octavia, who gave them a subtle nod. The two boys conceded and went to sit next to her.

Kova could feel the heavy weight of Lincoln’s worried gaze once the two boys were out of earshot. “Don’t stress.” They murmured and lightly bumped their shoulder against his. “You focus on making this crazy ass plan of yours work. I’ll focus on keeping the kids alive.”

Out of the corner of their eye they saw him practically break his neck to look at them in shock. They would have found his reaction hilarious if it weren’t for their situation.

“…kids.”

Kova nodded. “Kids. They’re only two or three years older than Artigas. So. They’re children to me. I feel like I should say be something about you and Octavia…”

Lincoln stiffened.

“…but I already had a talk with her earlier. It all seems good. Treat her well.”

“…of course.”

Their conversation fell off after that once Lieutenant Anya walked up to the meeting point, holding the confidence of someone with three decades of warrior and battle experience under her belt. Not once did she waver, nor did her expression change during her talk with Clarke. To Kova and Lincoln, this was a good sign, and the two of them relaxed their tense bodies ever so slightly, arms crossed, leaning against one another.

“They seem to be doing fine so far.” Kova commented quietly, as if their voice could carry across the bridge.

“Mn.”

“How does it seem like they’re doing fine?” Wells’ panicked voice would have surprised the two siblings if they hadn’t heard his feet snap what seemed like every twig littering the bridge. “Your Lieutenant looks like she’s about to kill her at any moment.”

“But the fact is, she hasn’t.” Kova pointed out. “She hasn’t even glanced at her weapons, if she has any. It’s a good sign that your leader isn’t completely incompetent, at least.”

Truthfully, Kova regretted the words as soon as they left their lips. Even they could tell when their words were too harsh, and it was quite obvious they had offended Wells, as well as Finn who came up to them. The two boys straightened to their full heights. But before they could defend their leader—

“They’re about to shoot! CLARKE!” A boy’s voice bellowed from the bank of the bridge. “RUN CLARKE! THERE'S GROUNDERS IN THE TREES!”

Everyone twisted their head towards the noise, but Lincoln was the one who ran up to the side of the bridge only to find a sky boy at the bank of the dried creek, still shouting to warn his leader. “Clarke brought back-up?”

“Mn—” Before Kova could elaborate, gunshots rang throughout the area. The leaves were still plenty and bountiful, but even the trees couldn’t hide the thumps! of bodies hitting the ground. Too many bodies, actually.

Heart hammering against their chest, breath hitched, Kova found themselves trapped in their thoughts until someone bumped into their shoulder running by them. Before they could react, Lincoln stepped in front of the runner. Wells barreled into Lincoln’s arm, calling out Clarke’s name in fear, but Lincoln was much stronger than the younger boy and dragged him away from the bridge. “Don’t! The scouts will shoot you down.”

Lincoln had only been expecting at least one of the three sky people to try and run across the bridge to save Clarke, which is how he had managed to catch Wells easily. Yet when he looked back to Octavia and Finn behind him, Wells in his arms, he caught a glimpse of someone sprinting past him.

He had almost called out their name. Almost. He managed to stop himself, thankfully. But with no way to help them, he felt useless.

His grip around Wells tightened.

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Clarke had heard of the flight, fight, and freeze response, but there were no predators in space, and she had no idea what it truly felt like until now. She had only looked away from Lieutenant Anya for a moment — just for a single moment — when a strong shiver ran up her back, her body stiffening, hair standing on end, a heavy pit forming deep in her gut.

On instinct she turned back, raising her arms to protect herself (from what?). She only managed to catch a glimpse of shiny silver and the screech of metal scraping against metal before she felt someone’s hand on her shoulder, pulling her away.

The sheer unexpected force of the defensive move sent the Lieutenant’s arm reeling back. She stumbled over the debris of the old bridge. Kova stood in Clarke’s place, one hand holding a dagger and the other a barrier between the two.

The Lieutenant gathered herself and stepped forward to attack. Everyone flinched at the sound of a loud bang! followed by the sound of a bullet hitting its mark. Kova looked only to find the Lieutenant on the floor, clutching her shoulder and roaring in pain.

Not one to waste an opportunity, they grabbed Clarke by the back of her arm, shouting, “Go, go!”

“Fire!”

Kova paled. They looked over their shoulder as the two ran. The two warriors the Lieutenant had brought were now at her side, two large shields across their back. From the forest, as if in slow motion, dozen arrows shot up in the air, followed by half a dozen more. They had practiced how to avoid the arrows in training by prediction, but not once did Kova consider they would actually have to use this information against their clan.

Their predictions found a safe zone up ahead. If they had been alone, they would have made it with ease. But Clarke had neither the stamina nor the speed to reach it in time.

‘Ah. I took responsibility.’

They jammed their dagger back into its sheath and tackled Clarke to the ground, using their own body as a shield.

The arrows darted around the two. They counted each sound of seventeen arrows embedding into the ground around them, wincing at #14 who landed just by their head. For a moment, Kova wondered what happened to #18 when they felt a scorching fire shooting up from the outside of their left calf.

They looked over. The arrow sliced their pant leg and barely nicked their skin, thankfully avoiding Clarke altogether, but the pain grew intense with every throb of their heartbeat to the point of sudden intense nausea. They groaned, pressing their forehead against the cement below and gritting their teeth, taking deep breaths, eyebrows scrunched together.

Ah, unfortunately this pain was all too familiar for Kova. Trikru’s archers could be quite deadly when they wanted to be, and it wasn’t below them to dip arrowheads into vials of fire ant venom. If potent enough and in the right place, it could kill a person. If this were another time, Kova could only thank the Gods for the luck they bestowed on them. 1, the arrow didn’t land in the right place. 2, the arrow only nicked them. 3, the venom was certainly not potent enough.

But as they rolled off of Clarke onto their back, facing the blue sky, their eyesight slowly going white, leg twitching in pain, they couldn’t bring themselves to even think, let alone thank the Gods.

The bridge rumbled with hoofbeats, and for a moment they thought they heard Clarke talking to them, but all they could manage was a quiet groan. Next thing they knew, they felt hands lifting them up and over someone’s shoulder. Their head lolled around, and in their haze, they thought Trikru might have captured them, and tried to fight back. Kova slammed tight fists into the person’s spine to let them go, only to be surprised that the person could take their hits without wavering. In reality, they were only lightly tapping the person’s lower back with loose, curled fingers.

“—they’ll be safer with you guys for now, so please take them with you. Run and don’t stop until you’re behind your walls.”

“…A-Lin?” Their question was barely audible, the cloudiness of both their head and vision intensifying. They waved a hand in his general direction. A pair of shoes popped into their vision, and a warm hand settled gently on the back of their head. “Good luck fixing all that.”

“Thanks.” Kova could hear the small smile in his voice. “Don’t worry. I’ll come and find you when it’s all clear.”

“Mn.” They only managed to give a weak nod before their body finally gave up on retaining consciousness. But before they knocked out, they sent a thumbs up towards their brother.

***

Reluctantly, Lincoln brought his hand away, releasing a heavy sigh. He thanked Wells, who had offered to carry Kova. Wells could only nod, his face scrunched up as if all his energy went into holding them. Lincoln then turned to Octavia to give her a light kiss on the forehead before jogging off to where the Lieutenant had retreated to.

He had a lot of work to settle.

Just as he left their sight, Raven, Jasper, and Bellamy arrived at the foot of the bridge. The group merged and ran through the forest. Halfway through Bellamy noticed Octavia and Wells lagging behind and waved at them, urging them to hurry up, but he paused halfway through his wave, his face falling from disbelief to anger. “Why are you carrying that g—!”

“Bellamy, not right now!” Octavia snapped. “We don’t have time, and they saved Clarke.”

He opened his mouth—

“She’s right.” To everyone’s surprise, Clarke agreed. “Let’s bring them back now and talk about it later.”

As much as Bellamy wanted to argue, even he knew this wasn’t the right time nor place. “Fine. But we don’t have time for this,” he gestured vaguely to Wells’ trembling form, “either. Pass them over.’

If they weren’t in a dangerous situation, Wells would have felt at least a little offended. Instead, he passed the unconscious grounder over, Octavia helping with the process. Once Bellamy settled the grounder on his back, both arms curled under their legs, the group ran back to camp.

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The group slowed to a quick-paced walk once they were near the camp, much to Bellamy’s dismay. The grounder was heavy — there were too many times where he had thought he would topple over a root and under their weight. Now that the group no longer rushed through the foliage of the forest and the momentum was lost, the grounder felt even more burdensome — physically and mentally. How the fuck were they gonna explain why they brought a groun—

A steady, warm breath enveloped the back of his neck.

He detested the shiver running up his spine to the top of his scalp.

As if that weren’t enough, the next breath made its way between his leather jacket and shirt, leaving behind an even stronger warmth across his upper back.

The walk also meant Bellamy noticed little things from the grounder, like the loose arms across perpendicular to his shoulders, bouncing with every step, the expanding of their chest against his back, the twitch of their fingers—

The stiffening of thighs and calves against the hands underneath the back of their knees.

A soft groan.

Twitching fingers clenching, forming tight fists.

Before he could alert the rest of the group of the grounder’s awakening, the thighs in his hands suddenly pushed down with all their weight, forcing him to drop their legs. The once loose arms suddenly wrapped across his abdomen—

Bellamy only caught a glimpse of Octavia and Wells turning towards him in shock before his world flipped. The trees and the sky streaked across his vision until his shoulder landed against the forest floor—

There was no pop, but something definitely shifted. He let out a loud groan and rolled to his front, leaning on his uninjured arm.

“Hey!”

“Wait!”

With everyone shouting, it was a wonder that Bellamy heard the sound of metal unsheathing. He fell back on his butt, narrowly avoiding the swipe of their dagger. He noticed the grounder stayed close to the ground, favoring their injured leg.

Unfortunately, taking note of this meant he couldn’t dodge the next swipe. He flinched with the cut to his cheekbone, warmth trailing down his face. In his panic, he scrambled back, trying to evade each strike until his back slammed against a tree.

Oh. Oh no.

The grounder reversed their grip on their knife, the butt of the blade against their thumb, and struck at his neck.

Bellamy might not have been the strongest in the Ark’s cadet force, but he certainly wasn’t weak. Yet when he blocked their attack, slamming his forearms into theirs, his other hand supporting and exerting more force, he found himself struggling under their strength. The dagger, shaking under the force of both sides, was far too close for comfort now.

His gaze rose from the pointed end to the grounder. He had expected the grounder’s eyes to be focused, sharp, merciless, piercing him just as the dagger would. Instead, he found wide eyes, shaky hazy pupils glazed over with pain and panic.

Blood rushed in his ears. He couldn’t hear the shouts and warnings from the others around them, except for one clear call.

“Kova!”

As if a spell broke, the grounder’s panicked eyes widened and looked to the side of the direction where the voice came from, breath hitching in their chest, the momentum of their strength trembling.

Bellamy struck the bottom of the grounder’s chin with the palm of his hand.

The mask clunked! against their face, the ribbons unraveling, and it slipped off, landing out of reach along with the dagger. The grounder fell back from their crouched position onto their butt, and for a brief moment, Bellamy thought he was safe. Until the grounder used the moment and rolled back, landing on their feet in fighting position, legs trembling, ready to strike with bare fists—

“Kova!”

The grounder’s dreads fell over their face, and before Bellamy could catch a clear look, Octavia stepped in between the two, holding her arms out in a placating manner. Briefly, Bellamy wondered when his little sister started growing up, and when did she start protecting him?

“It’s alright. You’re safe. This is my brother, the one I mentioned before. He helped us.”

The grounder didn’t respond. Fear spiked in Bellamy’s heart, but before he could move in front of Octavia, the grounder dropped their arms and fell to their knees, hunching over. Octavia cried out their name and rushed to their side without hesitation, pressing a hand against their chest to prevent them from falling over.

Using the tree behind him, Bellamy took the opportunity to stand and looked at his people. Clarke, Wells, Raven, and Jasper stood around, completely stunned. Whether by what just happened or because of Octavia, Bellamy couldn’t tell. “Thanks.” He grunted towards Jasper, the one closest to him.

“What, you expected me to go against that?”

“Are you okay?” Came Octavia’s hushed murmurs.

Bellamy turned to answer, only to find Octavia pressing the mask against the grounder’s face, helping them keep it on straight while the grounder reached behind their head and tied the ribbons firmly. Betrayal and anger bubbled slowly in his chest. “Shouldn’t you be asking me that?” He snapped.

Imagine his surprise when, while helping the grounder stand, Octavia sent him an annoyed look! Dumbfounded, he opened his mouth—

“Sorry, I’m sorry. Panicked.” The grounder murmured.

While Bellamy couldn’t catch a clear look of their face, he saw how they leaned heavily against his sister, head hanging, hunched over, one leg trembling worse than the other. How could one arrow cause so much damage? He wouldn’t have believed it for a second if not for the eyes he had seen behind the mask up close.

“Kova, you okay?” Octavia asked again. “What happened back there on the bridge? Lincoln didn’t tell us why you passed out like that.”

“Fire ant venom.” Kova gritted out. “Pretty common for Trikru to use in battle, not so common for them to use it during a negotiation meeting. Then again—” Full of resentment and anger, the single eye visible through their curtain of dreads landed on Jasper, who flinched and curled away from them. “—it wasn’t like they had much of a choice.” They glanced at Clarke before turning downcast, hiding away from the group. “They aimed for your leader’s heart. She would have died. I promised I would take responsibility.”

Wells and Finn startled ever so slightly at that. They sent each other a look Bellamy couldn’t decipher.

Suddenly, Finn turned to Clarke, an angry look with hints of betrayal flashed across his face. “I told you not to bring guns!”

“And I told you we couldn’t trust them, I was right!”

“You didn’t have to trust them, you just had to trust me.”

A bitter, weak laugh caught the two off guard. Everyone turned back to Kova. “Foolish boy. Take your fragile pride elsewhere.” They gritted out. “You should be praising your leader. It was smart to bring back-up.”

Before Finn could respond, he felt a hand grab his shoulder. He was face to face with a very angry Raven. “And why didn’t you tell me what you were up to?”

“I tried, but you were too busy making bullets for your guns!”

“The grounder’s right.” Hmm. That didn’t sit right in Bellamy’s mouth, but he continued. “You’re lucky she brought that. Those grounders came to kill you, Finn.”

“You don’t know that, Jasper fired the first shot!”

“A mix of both.” Said Kova. “Trikru, naturally, would be ready to kill, but not unprovoked. Just as your gunmen had their sights on the Lieutenant, the archers had their sights on Clarke. They only shot because of that one.” They jutted their head towards Jasper, who flinched and looked away, rubbing at his arms.

“Raven.” Octavia called gently. She noticed Kova’s words began slurring together gradually. “Help me bring them to my tent?”

“…sure.”

“Whoa,” Bellamy held Octavia’s free shoulder as she tried to pass him. “Who said they’re sleeping in your tent?”

“Where else would they sleep?”

“The dropship, obviously. What if they try to kill you?”

“That’s a stupid idea.” Octavia’s eyebrows scrunched into a frown. “Say we put them in the dropship. They wake up, can’t recognize their surroundings, and start panicking. Are you trying to get sliced up by them again?” Before Bellamy could respond, she kept going. “At least if they’re in my tent, they can recognize me, and recognize they’re safe, like they did now.”

“You don’t have to worry about Octavia.” Kova’s deep voice grew quieter and quieter every time they spoke, as if it took up all their energy to speak. “I’m not dangerous to anyone like this—”

‘My cheek says otherwise,’ Bellamy thought bitterly.

“—let alone to Lincoln’s… interest.”

“…interest.” Bellamy gritted out.

“Bellamy.” Clarke stood next to him, dropping a placating hand on his shoulder. “They saved my life. Twice, actually. Lincoln said it before — it’s not safe for them to return to the grounders since they helped us.” She turned to Raven and nodded. Raven returned the gesture and moved to Kova’s other side, swinging one of their arms around her shoulders. “We’re letting them stay. Bring them to Octavia’s.”

“Got it.”

With a sigh, fists on his hips, Bellamy had no choice but to reluctantly yield, stepping to the side. Octavia and Raven dragged Kova into the camp. Bellamy turned to Clarke, as if wanting to argue more, but before he could speak—

Boom!

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#bellamy blake x oc #bellamy blake x reader #bellamy blake imagine #bellamy blake imagines #the 100 fic #the 100 imagines #the night our stars aligned (and our breaths touched)#bellamy blake #the 100 #writeblr #wip fanfic

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paradise-of-guilty-pleasures · 5 years

Text

Shattered Reflections {9}

[Helsa RP- Fanfic]

Fandom: Frozen

Genre: Post-Frozen/ Canon Divergence

- Hurt/Comfort, Drama, Romance

Pairing(s): Hans/Elsa, Kristoff/Anna

Previous Chapter: 8. The Queen’s Fool

A/N:

Oof. Should have posted this sooner, since chapter 10, the next one, is the one I want up for Valentine’s, but got distracted by my V-day drawing instead.

9. Storming the Castle

"Ah, the little snow-prince returns!" Hans greeted Olaf pleasantly the next day, surprised that he saw Olaf without Elsa.

But he was asked for a story, and a story he would give. Without Elsa there, he knew it would be dangerous-- but he wanted to try to tell his story.

"Now here's a story you'll think you know-- but I'm going to turn it on its head for you. The best sorts of stories are the ones that you think you know, until they twist in unexpected directions. Now, this is the story of the Mirror Prince -but not the same one as before,- the Snow Queen, and the kind-hearted Princess..."

He told the story of how he landed in Arendelle, how a mirror saw someone in need of love, and felt it also needed love; how the two mistook it for true love, and so on. He told the story of someone who hardly knew magic meeting it in person, of the mirror meeting the Queen and seeing fear, and all the things Hans had told Elsa, without using their names, leaving out some details --perhaps simply because he didn't know them. He never exchanged words with Kristoff, he knew nothing of the trolls, he only knew bits and pieces.

"And so, to bring back the summer and to end the winter, the Mirror Prince raised his sword--" He stopped. Something sounded wrong.

"Hold that thought." He got up and moved to the door to listen. Commotion in the halls, pounding at far doors.

"Get under the bed, little snow-prince, and hide in silence. There's trouble." He warned. And him without anything he could use as a weapon.

Well, he had a chair. As a last resort, perhaps. He moved to the door and opened it. The guards hadn't locked it, so they could check on him, and he had never tried it. It was surreal to exit his own makeshift cell.

"What's going on?" He asked, hoping the guards had stayed to find out. And if not, at least that meant he could look for a weapon, to help them.

The guards had not bothered to lock the door, leaving in a hurry to address the more pressing matters, instead of worrying about babysitting an injured prince.The hallway was completely deserted. Outside air seemingly more frigid than inside the room.

There was a cacophony of noises resonating through the corridors. The sound of heavy footsteps running. Shouts loud enough to be heard but mostly unintelligible.

Finally after a moment of attentive listening there was echoing voices clear enough to be made out:

"WE'RE UNDER ATTACK!"

"PROTECT THE PRINCESS!"

"What's going on?" Olaf asked himself, ignoring the orders Hans gave and standing right beside him. The little snowman was both naïve and unafraid.

"We're under attack, little snow-prince. Hide under the bed like I told you, and wait, else you'll take your life into your own hands. I've got to find a sword." Hans frowned, especially at the ice. Poor Elsa was afraid-- and where was Anna? He supposed he would figure it out when he got to a crossroads.

"Quick, where's the nearest sword? Something meant for display will do, a rapier hanging on a wall, perhaps? Or a tall candle holder, in a pinch." He needed to move, but he needed a sword before he could be effective. He left the door open and ducked behind the wall to ask Olaf, suspecting the snowman would know the castle better than he would. "Before I was a fool, I was a man of the Navy." It was true. More true than perhaps he wanted to admit. He was a fool now, if not a prisoner. But whether it was the mental fool or the job title of Fool, he couldn't quite decide.

"Under attack? Sword?" Olaf said thinking for moment. "Oh! I know where, follow me!!" said the little snowman running down the hall without a second thought. He wasn't going to tell him, he was going to show him.

Hans sighed, concerned for the little snowman, but glanced out and followed after in a hurry. It seemed Olaf wouldn't be swayed, but Hans had no time to argue. He needed a sword so he could join alongside Arendelle's guards. He just needed something that would hold together under the stress of a sword fight. And if it could do damage, all the better.

All the havoc seemed to be happening further within, making the corridors the fearless little snowman guided the foolish prince through miraculously desolate. Olaf had astonishingly lead the prince to a trophy room, that was more like decorative arsenal, especially in the moment.

Hans was almost perplexed. "Twice now, things I've seen here that simply don't belong."

He mused, briefly. But he shook it off, and found the closest weapon he could grab to his old Bastard sword.

"Traditions will forgive this one breach." He decided. "Please, stay safe, and hide. What would Elsa do if she saw you running about in danger?" He ignored the fact that the same could be said of him. "I'm going to defend Arendelle, as best I can." He tied the display sword to his waist and tested the edge. Not sharp enough to cut through armor, but perhaps enough to out through soft bits. It would have to do.

Without another word, he bounded off, sword in hand. He would repel invaders, advise guards, and defend whichever lady needed him first.

"Press in! Repel them back and hold the line!" He called as he neared the action, looking to see where the danger was-- and where it was going. Listening for any sound that might indicate where the women were.

"Stay back! I got a candle holder and I'm not afraid to use it!"

"Princess, please stand back, let us handle it."

"No! I got to go find Elsa!"

"Oh, if there's a god, forgive me." Hans sighed, and bounded that direction, turning quickly to show he was alongside the Arendelle guards.

"You heard her Highness, let's get her to the Queen!" He called. "Forgive the intrusion, your Highness, throw things at me later." They didn't have time to have old grudges at that moment. "I'll take the left, I can defend it better. Move forward and don't hesitate. Every step we take into their reach is a step they must move backward or be thrown!" He directed to the guards. Hans actually knew how to use a sword. He couldn't be as certain of their guards.

"Wait...what?"

Anna was completely bewildered at who had come to her aid. It was the very man that left her to die, and now he was there to defend her? It was unbelievable.

There were so many questions swirling around in her mind. As if she wasn't already confused enough before his arrival, and now she was absolutely dumbstruck.

Questions crossed her mind like: What was going on? Where's Elsa? Why was he here and why was he helping her? And most importantly, what was he doing out of the dungeon?

But, questions would have to wait, she had to find Elsa. She would disregard those questions and concerns, for the time being, if it meant reaching her sister sooner. She didn't have time to lose.

Anna had been so sidetracked by her confusion she almost lost her grip on her heavy staff-like candle holder, luckily that brief release had snapped out of her daze.

" I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself, thank you very much," she assertively said as she swiftly swung the candle holder. She didn't have time to argue or be angry, she had to focus on getting to her sister, but didn't mean she had to hide her annoyance.

Hans ducked out of her way, certainly.

"Well hurry, then! I'm going the same direction, they'll be after the Queen, and you after! These are Weselton men!" He warned. The men had the clarity to separate the two at any given chance, which left a lot of men between them and the Queen, it seemed, and Hans ended up on Anna's side of the separation.

Without worrying about the rest, he turned into the fight, attacking at a man in a full wool coat -for this was no longer the medieval age of full armor- and slicing hard at his calves to make the man buckle in pain. His sword wasn't sharp enough to cut into the wool, but it was heavy and wielded well enough to break the bones and make it too painful for the other man to be a significant hindrance in the fight. He picked up the man's offhand sword instead. Hans wasn't trained in, nor fond of guns. But he could use a cutlass fairly well, and it would at least cut. A better option than the dull one he had borrowed.

There was no time to think about the details of who it came from. They had a lot of people to cut through. He wouldn't think much about the people or the danger, he only had to reach Elsa, and ensure that she was safe. They could sort the rest out, after.

"Stand-down!" Elsa urged. "I don't wish to harm you!"

The invading men did not heed her warning, and continued to press on. Trying their best to enclose her to be able to overpower her.

Elsa was at the epicenter of chaos, in the middle of the grand hall. Scattered across the ground lay the bodies of men (both friend and foe), yet none of her men were left standing alongside her, the Captain had been the last to fall. Her soldiers had fought bravely to try to protect her, but to no avail, they had been outnumbered and overtaken, and now solely Elsa remained.

She stood alone, shielding herself with her ice. Large icicles encompassed her barricade to fend off against the attackers. In fact, frost encased the entire room, causing a light snowfall to occur. Elsa felt completely cornered, very much reminiscent of the attack on the North Mountain, but this time she wasn't alone, there were people she had to protect and other people's lives at risk, making her even more panic-stricken.

She'd mostly been on the defensive rather than the offensive, afraid to lose control, and mortally wound someone by accident. She really didn't wish to harm anyone, especially not her own men, they were already putting their lives on the line in order to protect her. In other words, she'd been holding herself back out of sheer fear. But luckily, aside from just herself, she'd also managed to hold back the assailants as well.

Elsa tried her best to combat intruders, but it felt as if she was fighting against a Hydra, it seemed like for every enemy soldier she hindered two more appeared in their place. She was overwhelmed and outnumbered.

"Elsa?!" Anna cried in search of her, the voice resonating from a nearby corridor.

"Anna..." Elsa murmured at the sound of her younger sister's voice. She had come to look for her, of course she did, it was in her nature. It sounded like she was alive and well, which was a relief, but that may not be the case for long, if proceeded to reach her. If Anna came to Elsa, she would be walking straight into the lion's den. Elsa had to do what she could to prevent her sister from getting into harm's way. To keep her sister safe she would have to start fighting more forcefully against aggressors, drawing their attention and keeping them from going after her sister. Elsa could no longer remain stagnant she had to charge!

Hans hurried through the halls toward the loudest chaos and coldest air, knowing Elsa would be there-- and must still be alive. When he entered, he saw the mess and hesitated-- then got a wonderfully stupid idea.

"Elsa! The floor! ICE THE FLOOR!" He called. Anyone in Arendelle could surely navigate some ice, but it would be much more difficult for attackers.

With that, and no time to waste, he threw himself into the fray, ducking low and cutting at legs, or darting high to slice at a throat, knowing he couldn't trust a stranger's sword any better than a prop.

"Where's your snow monster when you need him, ey Elsa? too warm for the snow cavalry?" He joked in the midst of combat, never minding the blood.

But there were a lot of enemies. He couldn't win a one-man charge against them all-- he just wanted to win enough to distract them.

The sudden ring of Hans voice made her shiver. What was he doing here? Did that really matter right now? No. In fact, his arrival seemed to have swept a sense of calmness over her, making the snowfall suddenly stop.

Elsa instantly trusted his judgement and iced the floor. With the icy ground some men began to lose their footing. The floor had now become her domain, she could now easily shift the ice sheets underneath causing more men to topple over. She began pushing men away from her and pinning them again the walls.

"And where do you suppose I fit them? It's crowded enough in here already, wouldn't you agree?" she answered back, as she continued to shove enemies out of her way, trying to clear a path to reach him.

There were countless reasons she hadn't created a snow monster, aside from its sheer size. She feared she could not control it with her emotions running rampant. She didn't want her own men to incidentally incur it's wrath. But the main reason being she just didn't have time to waste.

Hans laughed a little, taking it a bit like a joke. He ran in, or rather skated, for he knew better than to try to find traction in her domain, using what little traction he could get to press into the fray and continue knocking enemies down.

A bugle called attention from the back, as Kristoff charged in on Sven's back. "Need help?" He proposed, drawing a bow and arrow from his shoulders, to pick off anyone foolish enough to get near his girlfriend. Elsa may have had problems with killing, but to Kristoff, he was just hunting wolves, and put arrows in wherever he needed.

"Who's side is the fox on?" He called.

"Yours!" Hans barked back.

"Good, one more arrow for them!" Kristoff picked off one headed for Hans, and Hans ducked away, making his way through the crowd to get to Elsa's side and block a sword strike there.

"My apologies for picking up a sword, but this seemed like a bad time for sticking to tradition." He quipped, turning to help her. They had bigger problems, Hans just automatically quipped a lot.

"Arendelle will readily grant a sword to anyone bound to protect it." Elsa reassured, as she offered him an ice sword for good measure.

She understood how much sword traditions meant to him and wanted to acknowledge them with a symbolic gesture. She had briskly conjured the ice blade in her right hand as she continued defending with her left. With Hans now supporting her, countering against the raiders had become less rigorous.

Hans hesitated a moment, seeming surprised and taken aback. But they had no time for discussing why. He moved the saber to his off-hand and took the ice blade, ignoring the sting of the chill against his bare skin. Now he could use the saber to defend, and the icy blade to slice through wool and cause real damage.

Kristoff kept to the outskirts of the battle until he could charge through with Sven and scoop Anna up in a hurry.

"Well for once, Princess Fiestypants, I'm the one doing the saving." He joked. He actually did save her fairly often, but he joked because she always seemed to be ready to throw down. "Remind me to teach you how to use a bow and arrow later." For now, she could keep using the candlestick. It seemed to be pretty useful.

Hans stepped into attacks and used a solid thrust any time he could get enough time to use it, pressing back to try and give Elsa more space as the numbers dwindled, and the remaining guards staff collected to help overrun the invaders. Injured as they were, between the Ice Queen and her 'Knight' helping her, to say nothing of Anna and Kristoff pulling enemies from the outskirts, they were able to spread the invaders thin.

"In the name of the Southern Isles, throw down your swords!" He barked over the din, striking out at any enemy close enough and getting blood on both his sword, and his clothes. He looked like a ragged mess, and that was without taking into account the back wounds. He managed to catch the pommel of someone's sword in his face, but when he fell, he lashed out at their thighs and got right back up, ignoring the blood in his teeth. He wasn't missing any teeth, he figured he would be fine.

Elsa had seen Hans get knocked down, she was concerned he had been stuck pretty hard, she knew he'd downplay the pain. Hans was not the only one that wouldn't willingly reveal how worn they actually were at the moment, Elsa was pretty strained herself. Her breath was heavy and there was a slight tremble to her hands. She had never exerted her powers to this extreme before, she had never actually tested the limits of her magic, up until now they've seemed limitless. And maybe her powers were really endless, but the same couldn't be said about her stamina, she was only human after all (even if she kept forgetting), she herself had limits.

Everybody has their breaking point and seems hers was rapidly approaching. She suddenly felt lightheaded causing her to stumble back. Her powers momentarily misfired, leaving her unprotected and giving her opponents the opening they'd been waiting. The remaining men charged at her all at once.

"Elsa!" Anna cried, as two men managed to reach her sister.

She'd regained her stability and raised her hands to shield herself with a wince. There was slight lag in her ice returning, but fortunately she had been able to create an ice shield in time to stop the blades momentum. Unfortunately she had not been unscathed. One sword only managed to graze her cheek, while the other did far more damage. The second blade had cut into her shoulder, it was a pretty deep cut, but not deep enough reached the bone, but was still gushing out a lot of blood. Her struck arm fell limp at her side. It was excruciatingly painful, but she had to endure it, there were still assailants after her. She had to hurry and be ready to defend herself again. She knew she couldn't look at her wound or she'd surely go into shock. Instead, she quickly cauterized the wound with her functional hand.

Hans growled and got up in a hurry to defend Elsa from any further attacks.

"Keep pressure on the wound and take breaths, I've got you." He assured, ignoring his own wounds. In spite of his valiant fight and skills, the blossom of red near his waist didn't look like the spatter of someone else's blood, especially while it was still growing.

But he made a promise that he had her back, therefore he did. They quite literally fought to the last, and Hans made certain to put an end to the swords that had damaged her, first.

Between he and Kristoff's arrows, the end came as quickly as the beginning.

Hans knelt as soon as there were no attackers, and applied pressure to his own wound.

"No injuries, Reindeer man? I'm sorry, I'm not sure I have your name."

"Kristoff. I'm alright."

"Kristoff. Would you be another help and go fetch as many doctors as possible, then? I daresay we need them." Hans tried to keep his tone even, but it was clear he had reached exhaustion.

"I know some healing. Anna, can you get the doctors with Sven? I can help here until more arrive." Kristoff moved to Elsa first.

"Don't you dare do the self-sacrificing thing now, your Majesty, fools do not get treated before the Queen." Hans joked to Elsa privately, with a little amused smile.

Anna had dashed off with a nod, entrusting Elsa in Kristoff's care.

"... You fool," Elsa huffed teary-eyed. She knew he was in far worse condition than her, and yet again he was hiding it behind his smile. Elsa was in so much pain by this one gash, she didn't know how Hans could have so much resolve to continuously hide all his afflictions, that were without a doubt exponentially greater than her own. She couldn't help but cry for the both of them.

Elsa knew she couldn't have argued anyway, Kristoff would have healed her first regardless if she requested else wise. She was his sister as well as the Queen, while Hans was a foolish fox.

"Yes, but the Queen's fool." Hans remarked with an amused smile. He found a place to sit, plopping down heavily on whatever nearest thing was raised, whether that was a short table or a body, with the bloodstained point of his sword at his shoes. He put pressure on his wound and focused on breathing, flexing his sword-hand as he pulled it away from the ice. "I hope the Captain of the Guard is okay, I daresay I owe him my life, I hope this is well enough." He muttered to none in particular.

Kristoff ran for a first-aid kit and some clear spirits.

"This will hurt," he warned, and poured her a shot. "Drink" He ordered, and waited until she had, to clean the wound with some of the rest, apply pressure, and sew it up with sterilized needle and thread, also sterilized in the burning alcohol. He made sure the wound was bleeding -cutting it, if necessary after the cauterizing- and sewed it together so it would heal properly. Then, he bandaged it up and cleaned and bandaged the wound on her cheek, which wasn't so damaging.

"I'll make a salve for these later, so it might leave less scarring." He assured. "Are you feeling okay? Deep breaths, it's all over." He spoke with a calm, soothing voice to make sure she would be well before he could move on to Hans. He could tell he was important there, perhaps more a priority than the guards.

"Anyone still walking? Help me order who needs help first. Our men worse than theirs, our best off then theirs. Leave the dead lay." Kristoff called. "Not you two, you two are done." He added to the royals.

"Gut wounds and hurt necks stay put, everyone breathing will be cared for. Do not remove arrows." He called, in the hopes someone would listen and help out. Kristoff hoped Anna wouldn't take long.

"As good a time as any to start re-training the guard." Hans mused.

"Quiet, you've lost a lot of blood." Kristoff warned.

"Nonsense..." Hans muttered, but quieter. He didn't want to argue too much.

Elsa gazed at Hans from a short distance. She stood before him, her injured arm resting in a sling across her chest. Kristoff had made her a sling to keep the pressure off her shoulder.

"Please...stop," Elsa said softly, as she shot Hans a concerned look. His tough guy act was starting to take a toll on her.

Hans glanced at her with a somewhat apologetic smile, and sighed before scooting back to the floor and lying back, resting the ice sword across his body very casually. It was hard not to-- he didn't have a sheath, just a bloody sword.

She asked him to stop, so he didn't offer any witticisms or an 'as you wish', just let it sit implied while Kristoff stepped over.

"Alright, 'queen's fool', let's see what you've got."

"Oh, don't tell me not to talk then set me up for jokes." Hans laughed a little, then cringed and grunted a bit from the pain.

"Yeah, that's why I told you not to talk. Smartass." Kristoff started cleaning the wound, and grimaced a bit at it. "You're quite a soldier, getting stabbed and still fighting."

"Navy man." Hans reminded, but kept his voice down and didn't fuss while Kristoff looked him over.

"Yeah well, you're about to get stabbed a lot more, with needle and thread, when the doctor gets here. Apply pressure and don't move, I want a real doctor to look at this, not an herbalist." Kristoff provided clean gauze, but checked Hans for other injuries too. A few here and there, bruises and lighter cuts, but the stab wound to the side was the worst of it.

"It doesn't look bad to me, but I'm good for smaller wounds." He managed to see the edge of Hans' scars, though-- and he had certainly noticed the fresh bandages. "What in Hel's name happened to you?"

"Navy man." Hans repeated with a grunt, a little drier.

"Pretend I didn't ask." Kristoff decided he didn't want to know the details. Hans nodded his head just slightly, and stared at the ceiling in silence, instead while they waited for a real doctor.

Kristoff took to helping with triage, but did keep an eye on Hans to make sure he was still breathing and well, while he helped check up on Arendelle soldiers first-- then their enemies. In case there were any left.

Anna and Sven returned with the doctors they set out to find, as well as medical supplies, Aredellean citizen's ready to lend a hand however they can and of course Olaf.

Anna glanced over at Hans for a brief moment as, ran up to Elsa and hugged her around the neck from her non-injured side.

"Elsa! Are you alright? I was so scared, especially when I saw those two men-"

"Shh, it's all over now. I'm fine Anna. It's only a scratch, Kristoff already patched me up, see," Elsa said softly as she stroked her sister's hair. Anna said nothing about Hans, now wasn’t the time, all that mattered was that her sister was okay.

Kristoff sent the closest doctor to Hans, and started taking direction from the castle doctor, to help and offer guidance where it was relevant. Kristoff knew more than most doctors about herbs (and would absolutely defend their use, in medicine or in cooking).

Hans heard Olaf wandering around, and waved that direction without looking up.

"How is the little snow-prince, hm? I'm afraid the rest of the tale will have to wait. Did you figure out the twist ending?" He asked, hoping Olaf would entertain conversation, even while the doctor sewed him up. The adrenaline was wearing off, and the pain well and truly setting in.

"No opiates, doctor, whatever pain there is, I'll chance it." He added as an aside, but he already sounded like he was regretting that as the doctor went about sewing up his insides. He didn't try to look around, just held still and stared up at the ceiling, trying to focus through the pain, occasionally gritting his teeth. Yes, even his pain tolerance had its limits.

" Oh no! You're hurt Hans the Fool," Olaf said with concern as he walked up to him.

"I am, yes. That's what happens when you go swinging swords about." Hans agreed, then paused to deal with a spasm of pain, so as not to react in a bigger way. His tone always seemed so even, but it didn't reflect in his face.

"But you're unhurt? I was worried in the halls. You hid like a good little prince, then?" He proposed. He knew full well that surely the snowman wasn't actually in the line for the crown, but since Elsa had never actually answered him, he couldn't help but find the idea rather cute, and continue using the little nickname in spite of himself.

" Oh, I can't get hurt, melt maybe, but Elsa figured out how to make permafrost so that won't happen anymore, I can reconfigure myself if my head falls off, I got impaled once," Olaf rambled with a laugh. "I wasn't hiding, I went to go get Kristoff and Sven, but they left so fast they forgot to take me with them."

Hans chuckled once, but grunted from the pain that brought, and shifted uncomfortably.

"As have I, it seems." He joked, through pain.

"You're a clever little thing, do you suppose this ice sword will melt? It seems so much more solid than I'd expect." He wanted to know, was this a one-time gesture? Or would it last?

He supposed the answer didn't truly matter, Elsa could wave it away with the brush of her hand. But, he wanted the little bit of hope. He was being sentimental, perhaps.

But, the gift of -not just a sword- but a new sword, better than the one he had been given? That was a statement. He wasn't sure if Elsa had forgotten them, or if she understood the tradition better than he thought.

He supposed he would have to wait until she visited him again.

"More infections to come with this, no doubt." Hans muttered, and closed his eyes to the pain.

"Do you have any stories of your own, Olaf? I should like to hear them over the next few weeks. I imagine I shall need the distraction." His back wounds had been mostly healed when he arrived in Arendelle. a stab wound? Yeah, that would take some time.

" Hmm?" Olaf examined the blade closer. "Hmm," he continued to hum as he looked at it from different angles. "Well, after thoroughly examining the sword" he began. " I can say for certain, " he continued. " That... I have no idea, maybe?" He shrugged. " It is a pretty sword though, I hope it doesn't melt."

Maybe they hadn't noticed, but Elsa had already cleared out all the unnecessary ice from the hall, leaving only what she saw useful, and the sword still remained.

"Boy, do I!" He brightly answered his inquiry about having his own stories. "I'm quite the storyteller myself," he said proudly. He was bound to talk his ear off, which Elsa and even Anna found exhausting at times.

Hans smiled, but forced himself not to chuckle. "Well, you tried." He muttered, tired and quiet. He didn't have the energy to keep fussing or being louder than necessary.

"Make sure it stays near me until it does, then, will you? Visit to tell stories. For right now... I'm very tired." He closed his eyes, and found it too difficult to open them again. He needed to rest and recover.

Still, he kept it across his body while the doctors worked. The scene was rather like a painting, a knight peacefully asleep among the wounded and the dying, wounded himself but still alive. He had lost a fair amount of blood. His eyes hadn't even fluttered when he was moved to a stretcher to be placed elsewhere.

"Your Majesty, where would you have him moved?" Not the first nor the last time Elsa would be asked that on that day, but the only time it was about Hans. "Back to his room?" The impromptu healer's dungeon, far from everywhere else?

~~*~~

She'd been delegating countless tasks, yet this one by far was definitely one of the simplest yet toughest decisions she'd have to make.

'His room?' She thought for a moment. Where that should be? Should just she send him back? She looked at him peacefully asleep with sword still near him and made up her mind.

Well, the cat was already out of the bag, though they (Anna and Elsa) had no time to discuss it yet, due to the chaos of the attack. Dealing with the aftermath of the battle was more important at the moment, than questioning why this imprudent Prince was no longer locked up in the dungeon.

It was a tough call, but she followed her heart. She directed that Hans be taken to one of the guest rooms in the main wing, on a floor below where her own sleeping quarters resided.

Did she make the right choice? She didn't know, but knew one thing for certain: she'd have to deal with the fallout later, regardless. Though she still wasn't sure she was ready to handle what that actually entailed.

#Helsa #Iceburns #Hans x Elsa #Frozen Fanfiction #Frozen #Fanfiction #Shattered Reflections

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always-the-cleric · 5 years

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Cordelia x Reader - Why Would you? Part 3 -THE FINAL ONE-

finally gonna finish this fic, sorry for not doing it sooner, the inspiration just didnt strike me as much, but then I got a request to continue, so I’m gonna :)) also be ready for a really long chapter my dudes

links to the previous parts:

PART ONE: https://mattie-hawkins.tumblr.com/post/183650829502/cordelia-x-reader-why-would-you-part-1

PART TWO: https://mattie-hawkins.tumblr.com/post/183921585657/cordelia-x-reader-why-would-you-part-2

You leg burned like hell and your eyes watered as the adrenaline of the moment wore off and the pain properly settled in. Fuck him. Fuck Hank and his little witch hunter buddies. Fuck all of them. And finally, fuck this entire fucking world.

The silver in the cuffs made you unable to do anything about them, and the burn wound from the acid was starting to infect ever so slowly. Of course, they left it out in the open as they laughed at you and taunted you with questions about the academy and about Cordelia.

Cordelia... Would she be missing you by now? Or would she just, you know, forget about you. She had done that for seven years. That’s what it had felt like at least. With these men talking into you whilst you were hurting, whilst you felt scared and naked without any magic to keep you safe. You didn’t even have the simple pleasure of having your cat close to you. You missed all simple comforts and your mind turned dark.

She could live without you for seven years and only looked for you once she needed it. Not because she just wanted to see you again, but because she had needed help. Was that all you were good for? Helping her when she needed it, and after that you went back to being as bad as trash ready to be thrown out.

“Nobody’s coming to save you are they? They’ve all forgotten about the little wicked witch of the woods haven’t they?” Hank said. He had returned to the little prison cell they had locked you in. You didn’t even remember how long he had been gone for.

It had felt like ages, but also just like a few short minutes. You knew how your mind could wander to dark places, and you hated the fact that they were using this against you. It was working though. You hadn’t even felt this low when your heart was breaking as you watched the love of your life get married to the piece of trash standing in front of you.

Instead of verbally replying to him though, you just spit on his shoes and lookes away from him. Not giving him the satisfaction to see you breaking from the inside. Crumbling to dust.

He let out a growl and reached for something a man had come to hand him. Before you could even be afraid of what he was handed there was a scorching pain on your shoulder and it dripped down your arm. You made a sound that was so inhumane, even you doubted where it came from.

The pain was searing and you were trembling. How long had you been here for? The wound on your leg was infected now. Hank was laughing, so were some other people. You mind was becoming a jumble. You couldn’t really make out much through the pain.

Were you getting delirious? It felt like the room was slowly spinning, it was thankfully empty now though. That, or your equilibrium was severely off-kilter at the moment. Maybe it was from the fever. Your leg was definitely and properly infected now. Somehow you heard familiar voices near. They sounded so near that they must be whispering in your ear, but when you looked around, no one was there.

It felt like an eternity down here. you felt sweat dripping down your neck and your face. Some antibiotics was what you desperately needed, but of course no help was granted.

Hank came in again. His laughter seemed faint. You squinted your eyes at the figures that entered behind him. They looked like Cordelia and maybe some other witches. But, the voices were laughing at you. Was Cordelia cruel enough to do this? No. She made mistakes and wasn’t perfect, but heartless wasn’t something you could ever describe Cordelia as.

You struggled to keep your eyes open at all. The fever and pain were really getting to you.

They were murmuring something. Was it Hank? Was it someone else? you couldn’t make out the voice anymore. How long had it been now? Weeks? or maybe just a few days and you were really losing it.

You woke up to the sounds of violence. You heard gunshots, you were sure of it. Then you heard a panicked Hank enter your prison cell. You opened your eyes and looked him in the eye. “They’re coming for me, aren’t they? Cordelia choose me over you. And you fucking lost. She’s mine.”

You didn’t know where that confidence suddenly came from. Perhaps because freedom was close enough that you could taste it on your lips. You would finally see your Cordelia again. She was coming for you with a vengeance by the sound of it.

“But will she still want you when she sees what you’ve become?” He sneered at you and then trows that last bit of acid he had in store for your torture at your eyes and your whole world becomes pain.

The freedom that felt so close had now evaporated and pain had taken its place. Pain and an immense darkness that would be there forever. Your eyes burnt by the acid.

Cordelia broke into the cell to find you screaming in pain, with Hank laughing like a maniac. Madison made quick work of him. The only sound coming from him was his dead body hitting the floor.

Cordelia tried to talk to you, but all you could register was the pain that felt it was still eating away at your face.

Cordelia, Madison, Zoe, Queenie and Mallory looked at each other in horror at you. You leg and arm swollen with infections, and your face freshly eaten away at by the acid.

After that it became a blur for you. You felt Cordelia lifting you in her arms, but you missed the worried glances at the amount of weight you had lost. You felt yourself being transported to some other place, but you didn’t notice it was the academy.

All the girls that had been busy around the academy had frozen at the sight of their Supreme in tears with you, beaten and battered, in her arms. The other witches that had helped in your rescue had taken in upon themselves to calm all the girls and explain the situation, whilst Mallory and Misty followed Cordelia up the stairs and to the master bedroom, Cordelia’s room.

Misty had brought her special mud and slathered it unto the wounds on your leg and arm. Your eyes were more difficult. The spells Mallory and Cordelia were trying weren’t working. There still seemed to be traces of silver inside of you that prevented any magic from helping you.

When you woke up and opened your eyes, the world was still dark. panic flooded your system, as you feared you were still held captive. You wildly felt around you to become familiar with where you were and hit something soft and warm.

Cordelia gasped as she felt your hand hit her thigh as she had been sitting next to you, watching over you.

“You’re up!” She said happily and she carefully went to hold your hand.

“We had feared you might not wake up.” She softly whispered, her voice seemed filled with sorrow and pain. And perhaps a little guilt as well. Guilt because of the fact that she could have prevented this if she had been more careful.

“Where am I?” You asked tentatively. You still didn’t trust this. It could be possible that the fever was feeding you this as an elaborate fever dream.

“You’re at the academy. You’re safe now, I promise.”

“Just like you promised we’d be best friends and that we’d be there for each other?” You shot back before you could think it through. You were hurt and bitter and you didn’t know if you could trust anyone anymore.

“I know I made mistakes, and I know that it will take a long while before I can ever have your trust again, but we could start here. With you letting me help you through this.” Cordelia sounded defeated. her tone made you frown and even though you couldn’t see you eyes looked in her direction, always searching, but never finding.

It broke Cordelia’s heart to see your once stunning eyes, turned milky white.

“If you were really trying to help me, you would help me see again. You’re the supreme, right? Shouldn’t you have already come up with a fix for this?” You know you sounded petty and hurt. It was just, you were hurting. You didn’t feel at home here anymore. Cordelia didn’t feel like home right now.

“We are trying our bests. I know it all sounds like a lot of empty promises, but we are going to fix this. For now, I hope this helps a little at least.” She said and then you felt to warm familiar touch of Pandora against you. Her ugly little paws pressing down on your stomach as she settled herself there.

A small smile tugged at your lips. At least now you had something that reminded you of home. She still smelled like all the spices of your little cabin. Your hands trembled as you held her close to you.

It took a total of six whole weeks before they figured out you still had traces of silver in you which had halted you from healing. When Cordelia had gotten rid of it, the wounds on your leg and arm had healed amazingly well with the help of Misty’s mud.

You and Cordelia had discussed a lot in those weeks. She had told you about the terror she had felt for the two weeks that she couldn’t find you. You had told her about the torture. About your own doubts that had flared up and the taunts of those men that didnt help.

She still didn’t have your complete trust, but she was slowly but surely winning it back.

Another four weeks passed when Cordelia enthusiastically burst into the room you two had now been sharing, since you still weren’t very mobile.

“I’ve got it!” She almost yelled and sat down next to you as she grabbed your hand. A move that was now familiar again to the both of you.

Pandora looked a bit annoyed at the disturbance of being jostled awake when she was calmly sleeping on your stomach, but she soon settled back onto your stomach again.

“Got what, Delia?” You asked softly, scared of the answer. Was she going to give you false hope or was she actually going to deliver on her promise to finally make this all all right?

instead of an answer, she smeared something the smelt awful on your face, ad confidently said a spell. She repeated it multiple times, all the while ignoring the questions you were asking her.

After a little while of chanting, she wiped the stuff away with a wet cloth and told you to open your eyes. You held them tightly shut and shook your head. What if you couldn’t see and your hopes would just be crushed?

Then you felt Cordelia softly caress your cheek with her thumb.

“Please, trust me. This will work. Just open those beautiful eyes for me.” She whispered in your ear, and she pressed a soft kiss just under it. It sent shivers down your spine, and ever so carefully you opened your eyes.

It took a few blinks to adjust to the sudden stream of light and colours, but when you realised you could see the massive smile Cordelia had on her face, you finally, after all those weeks, properly smiled back at her.

“It worked. It actually worked!” You cried out. You were so overcome with happiness and you pulled Cordelia in for a celebratory kiss before you knew what you were doing.

Before you could pull away out of embarrassment however, she held you close and kissed you back.

“I told you, you can trust me. I will always have your back.” She said breathlessly when she broke the kiss.

“I trust you.”

#cordelia goode #cordelia foxx #cordelia goode x reader #cordelia foxx x reader #cordelia x reader #ahs #ahs coven #ahs apocalypse #ahs prompt #ahs fic #Why Would You #final part #prompt #fic

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