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venomous--fics · 5 years ago

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Kasady

Summary: You're Cletus Kasady's younger sister, but you've never told anyone. Now his name is everywhere in the news and everyone wants your side of the story.

Warnings: Mentions of past abuse, panic attacks, swearing

Mood music: Lover is a Day- Cuco

A/n: Aaaaye, sorry if this is a dumb idea. I just haven't seen anyone write this type of story? If someone has, anyone wanna link me a fic? Feedback is appreciated and requests are open! My queue is filled with the last batch I got, so expect those soon!

You almost dreaded leaving the apartment anymore. All you saw was his big, stupid, ugly face everywhere. Oh, he did that, oh, he did this, let's remind everyone that he's a monster in prison! Oh, but there's a plot twist; You hated it because you were, unfortunately, related to the guy. Nobody outside your adoptive parents knew.

You didn't like talking about, you didn't even like thinking about it. You had to put up with so much shit because of that guy. You were grateful that you were young enough that nobody knows or remembers what you look like now. You even changed your last name a few times. First, you changed it to Smith when your parents adopted you, then you changed it to Brock when you got married to Eddie.

It shouldn't bother you, you're a Brock, not a Kasady. However, you couldn't help but feel like that was just your identity. Once a Kasady, always a Kasady. You felt even worse because Eddie had taken up on the Kasady story as a huge part of his new job.

You were proud of him for finally getting back to what he loved, but sooner or later his trail would come back to you. What were you supposed to tell him? It felt like the walls were closing in on you, and that there was an anchor slowing crushing you. You had to remind yourself to just take it all in one breath at a time. This is just some fad, some story. It'll all go away.

What if it doesn't?

Your head was spinning and you closed your eyes as you sat on your bed. Everything was so quiet, and even that was alarming.

"Babe? We're home!" Eddie voice rang through the apartment.

You sucked in a breath and hopped up and out of the room, "How was work?"

You just wanted to forget about it.

"Eh, you know." he smiled as he hung his jacket up, "Same shit."

Venom appeared, looking a bit annoyed, "Easy for you to say."

"What's got you in a sour mood, big guy?" you asked, walking over and giving Venom a small kiss before turning to Eddie and giving him a kiss as well.

Venom hesitated for a moment, mostly out of embarrassment, "Well, nothing now, but some guy called us a dick."

"That wasn't very nice of them." you replied, "How about I make some dinner? I was thinking chicken nuggets or- Uh, chicken nuggets."

Eddie looked at Venom, "That's a tough choice. I guess chicken nuggets it is." You preheated the oven, "Why don't you two go get into something a little comfier?"

"Already ahead of you," Eddie said as he walked to the bedroom.

There was barely any noise for a couple minutes before Eddie said, "So, you know that story I'm working on?"

"Of course," you said, feeling the anxiety building back up.

"Well, I," he paused, you assumed he was putting a shirt on, "I've reached a dead end with it."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, I was talking to Cletus- Red- Whatever the hell they're gonna call him.. And he was asking me if he knew anything about his sister." Eddie stumbled out of the room as he pulled up his sweatpants, "I mean, everyone was talking about that, but I figured it was a bunch of bs."

"Oh." you repeated.

"so, I spent a majority of my day trying to find any information on this poor woman- And it's almost like he just fell off the grid."

"Well," you awkwardly chuckled as you got the bag of frozen nuggets out of the freezer, "I guess when a serial killer is your family, you'd want to disappear too, right?"

"I suppose," Eddie said.

Venom, meaning no harm, but just wanting to be part of the conversation, "Maybe he killed her, Eddie. People said that too. Maybe that's why we can't find her."

Out of habit, you put your hand over a scar you had on your arm as a lump form in your throat. It wasn't a nasty scar by any means, it was barely noticeably at this point. It was just a constant reminder.

You had lied to Eddie and told you that a biker had clipped you one day when you were coming home from work, but that was far from the truth. You wish it had been an innocent accident like that. The reality of it was that, before you and Cletus were removed from your home, he had attempted to, as he put it, saw your arm off.

Lucky for you, and being the world's biggest crybaby, again, as he would've put it, your mother had heard you screaming. Of course, she always wanted to think that Cletus would just grow out of all of this horrid stuff. You always thought if she had changed her mind, maybe she'd still be alive.

Sometimes you wished Cletus had actually killed you too, it would've been less painful than everything else you had to go through. Growing up, with Cletus always on the news for the shit he'd done, and every thing inbetween, you were slightly grateful that people would make up the rumours that you were dead. Maybe then they'd leave you alone.

You put yourself on autopilot, taking a trip down trauma lane as you put everything into the oven and set a timer.

Cletus wasn't always outwardly violent, but that doesn't mean he was kind. He would always pick on you, or tell you that nobody even wanted you. He'd always take your things and ruin them, whether it be lighting them on fire or just cutting them up.

You were so young, and you tried to believe that maybe older siblings were just like that. Maybe it was normal for them to try to leave you to die in the woods, or maybe it was normal when he'd 'jokingly' push you towards oncoming traffic. You had a lot to unlearn when you got adopted. You never wanted to be around other kids, and you barely spoke, even when you had gone to therapy. Sometimes you'd get angry at nothing and beat up pillows, and no matter what, your adoptive parents also responded with love and understanding.

You never had to deal with siblings again. Your adoptive parents are the only souls, outside the social workers, who ever knew what had gone on with your birth family. you were thankful for that.

The cycle still repeats it self, however. Some days you feel fine, you don't find yourself thinking about it, but then one little thing comes barging in and ruins it all.

You had completely lost yourself in a memory, and not a good one. You could hear your heart beating in your ear, and you must've been staring off into space.

The basement was dimly lit, and you remember your dad said he would replace the bulb, but he always forgot. You were stuck to a chair, and you couldn't stop whimpering.

"You're such a crybaby."

Cletus came into view with a roll of duct tape. He fiddled with it, trying to get it undone. You shut your eyes and tried to keep quiet. Maybe if you were quiet, he'd let you go.

He finally got a piece cut and he was going to put it over your mouth, but you kept shaking your head, calling out for you mom. You were even kicking at Cletus, which just seemed to annoy him more.

"Stop it! Stop! Go away! Go away, Cletus!"

There was something inside Cletus that just made him hate everyone around him. He had no regard for any other form of life. He didn't even feel bad about what he had planned to do to you. In fact, he had blamed you for it, he kept telling you that if you weren't so annoying, or if you were never even born, he wouldn't have to do this.

Finally getting fed up with your struggling, he grabbed your face and put the duct tape over your mouth. This made your crying worse. You could heard footsteps from the floor above you, and you were praying that whoever was up there heard you and was coming to your rescue.

Cletus proceeded to duct tape your arm down to the arm of the chair, making extra sure that it hurt. You were no more than five years old, and you were already telling yourself that this was how you were going to die.

"You know that old bat can't hear you, stupid." Cletus spat as he turned away to get something.

That's when you remembered where you were. You were at your grandma's house for the weekend. You two would get left here every so often, normally when your parents had errands to run. This time, mom and dad weren't coming back. You were stuck here.

You were thinking about all the small details of her house now, to distract yourself from what was about to happen.

Mary Poppins. Your grandmother had an odd obsession with her. She had all this little figurines that she decorated her house with. You were never sure why she liked Mary Poppins so much, but you found it endearing.

She would always hum the songs when she was baking.

A spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down.

You could practically hear her humming along.

Thats when Cletus turned back around and you saw the shimmer of the knife he had. You tried to just think of anything else, but nothing was working now. Everything was so quiet and the only noise was the sligh thum of the old light bulb.

"If you were never born, this wouldn't be happening," he sneered at you as he pushed the knife down onto your arm, "This is your fault."

He kept talking, and you wanted to keep crying, but you found everything so stressful that you were feeling tired. You didn't even have the strength to pay any mind to the burning pain in your arm. It was almost like you'd given up.

Then you heard her voice. It was calling out for both you and Cletus. It was getting louder, Cletus huffed and dropped the knife on the floor.

"One noise out of you and I'll make you suffer." he cackled a little bit, "Doesn't really matter, I was going to make you suffer anyways."

You watched hazily as Cletus made his way up the stairs. You tried to wiggle out of the duct tape restraints, but it caused too much pain, so you gave up. The voices were getting more and more muffled. Cletus was leading her away from the basement.

You wanted to go home. You wanted to be anywhere but here. You felt more tears welling up in your poor little eyes, and you closed them tightly. Just make it go away. It'll go away.

You remember hearing a lot of noise from upstairs. It sounded like things getting broken, and then several big thuds. You closed your eyes tighter. It grew quiet again.

You heard the basement creak open, and you heard the soft whimpers of the family pet, Fifi. You loved Fifi. She was a good dog. Cletus came down the stairs, holding the dog by the collar, and you watched as Fifi wriggled and yipped as she tried to get free.

You were tried to scream at him, but the duct tape muffled any noise that came out of your mouth. Cletus retrieved the knife and dragged the dog back a few steps. You wanted to look away. You didn't want to watch. You were frozen in terror as Cletus held the dog down and lifted the knife.

He was grinning so sadistically.

You felt something warm wrap around you and you jumped ten feet in the air, pushing them away and yelling, "Don't touch me! Just stay back!"

Eddie flinched and held his hands up as he took a step back, "Sorry! Sorry! Didn't mean to scare you."

You tried to catch your breath as you stared at him. You looked like you'd just seen a ghost. Eddie looked a little startled as he lowered his hands and slowly walked over to you, "Are you okay?"

You took another step back as you tried to calm your nerves, "Yeah, I- No- Yes, I'm.. I'm fine. Sorry for- I."

"Why don't we go sit down for a second.. You look like you're about to pass out." What do you do? What do you say?

"Did I cause this?" Eddie sounded a little hurt, thinking that he'd unintentionally caused you any harm, "Baby, I'm so sorry."

"It wasn't you. I just.." you needed to just think of some excuse, "The whole Kas- Cletus thing is just.. Stressful."

Eddie gently put a hand on your lower back and you flinched again, causing him to move it.

"I just mean," you sighed a little, "I see it everywhere. It's- I- Nevermind."

You were fighting with yourself. You were going to say it.

"It's alright. We don't have to talk about it anymore." He sounded so sincere, "And it'll all go away after-"

"That's just it," you wrapped your arms around yourself as you tried so hard to fight those stupid crybaby tears back, "It won't go away."

Despite your best efforts, the tears came running down your face, and Eddie went to wipe your face, but you flinched away and ran into your bedroom. You slammed the door a little too hard behind you, repeating, "It just won't go away." "Y/n," Eddie said, slightly confused as he walked over to the door. He couldn't open the door because you were sitting in front of it, and he could hear you crying. "Baby?"

He crouched down and sat down on the floor. He didn't understand what was going on, and Venom sure as hell didn't know either. They wanted to ask what was wrong, but maybe you'd tell them on your own.

"Sorry," you said between sniffles.

"It's okay." Eddie replied, leaning against the door, "What's going on?" You took in a few deep breaths before wiping your face, "It's a long story." Eddie, being a smartass, leaned forward a little to get a peek at the oven timer, "We have time."

You chuckled a little because you heard the door creak with his movement. Eddie chuckled too as he leaned back into his original position. Venom poked out of Eddie's arm and looked at the door for a moment before looking at Eddie, who just nodded a little. The little symbiote wrapped around Eddie's arm and got comfortable as you started talking.

"There-" you shivered a little, "Eddie, there's a good reason why nobody can find Cletus' sister."

Eddie looked at the door, intrigued. Did you know her somehow? Maybe through work? Were you helping her hide somewhere?

"And why's that?"

"Because, I-" you wiped your eyes again, trying to not burst into tears, "I'm Y/n Kasady."

Eddie tensed a little as he continued to stare at the door. "You're Y/n Kasady?"

You hesitated, "Unfortunately, but I mean, legally, I'm not really a Kasady anymore...Obviously."

Eddie looked down to the floor, taking it all in. Everything made sense now. "How come you never mentioned it?"

"You think I wanna talk about it?" you didn't mean to come off as bitter, "I just- I hated it. I hated everything to do with that name..Nothing good comes from being a Kasady."

"Nothing good comes from bein' a Brock either."

"Eddie." you whined.

"Sorry, sorry. I'll try to save the jokes for later."

"I just never wanted to talk about it." you continued, "Besides, what the hell would I even tell people? You think reporters want to hear a five year old talk about the most horrendous shit?"

"You were five?" Eddie's voice sounded so hoarse. He didn't knowing anything about the elusive Kasady sibling. The fact that it was you,and you were only five made everything worse.

You couldn't seem to stop yourself, "Cletus was a monster. He killed our grandma- He- He.. Oh god, he tortured the dog while I was duct taped to a chair. Not to mention that he tried to cut my arm off right before all of that- Yeah, that scar? It wasn't from some stupid biker."

"Jesus," Eddie sounded mortified, "I'm..Sorry."

"To make matters worse, I almost got lost in the system because he burned down the orphanage we were both at." you paused, remembering that day, "With everyone but us inside of it."

Venom wasn't going to say it, but he felt a little mortified. He had never met a human who was capable of those awful things.

"They had to separate us, because they thought it would stop him from acting out. That didn't work. Cletus just-" your rant broke off into another fit of helpless sobs, "He ruins everything he touches. I know It's been decades since all of that. I haven't seen him since I was five, but I still live in constant fear-" "He can't hurt you-"

"What if he breaks out of prison again? What then?" you sounded very panicked, "I have always been on edge. Cletus is a smart man, Eddie- It wouldn't take much to figure out where I am- Or my parents.. Or-"

"Hey, hey," Eddie said softly, "That's not gonna happen. You wanna know why?" "Why?' you croaked, slouching against the door.

"Because we won't let it."

You did feel safer since Eddie and venom came into your life. You also knew that they'd rather die then to let anyone hurt you. Cletus was nothing but madman, and it wouldn't take Venom very long to put an end to him. "We love you." Venom said.

You slowly turned to sit on your knees as you opened the door. You looked at Eddie and venom with a weak smile, and Eddie held out his arms, "Come here." You crawled into his arms, and Eddie held you close to him, "I'm sorry you went through that, but I promise you that nothing will ever hurt you again."

Venom untangled himself from Eddie's arm and wrapped around yours, "We will eat whatever tried to hurt you."

You curled up closer to him, feeling a lot better, "I know you will...Sorry for being a crybaby."

"Don't need to apologize." Eddie said sweetly, "If it makes you feel better, I can make something up for the story. Just to get it over with."

"You'd lose your job if they found out that you lied."

Eddie shrugged, "Plenty of other jobs in the world, love."

"It's okay," you said, "I think, maybe, I..If it's you, I can talk about it. I'm just afraid of how people will see me after. They'll probably think that I'm just like him."

Eddie rubbed your back softly, "Nobody will think that."

"Who cares what a bunch of losers think anyways?" Venom looked up at you with all the love he could muster, "We think you are wonderful."

"You guys are pretty wonderful too." you replied, smiling at them.

You gave Venom a kiss before you cupped Eddie's face and gave him one as well. Everything felt okay again, and this time you knew they'd remain that way. A startling beep rang through the apartment and you all jumped a little. You then began chuckling as Eddie helped you up. It was just the oven.

"You okay?" Eddie asked as he watched you get the food out of the oven. He saw you differently now. Not in a bad way, but in a good way. He know understood everything he needed to know, and he knew that you were doing everything in you power to get better. He was proud of you.

"Yeah, actually." you said, "I guess talking about it really does help.. I was just afraid that maybe," you laughed a little, "Maybe you'd want a divorce, because who wants an infamous serial killer as an in-law?"

Eddie, seeing the opportunity to lighten the mood with a joke, said, "A what as a what now? I thought you were an only child."

You looked at him with the softest expression, "Thanks."

He smiled as he came over and wrapped his arms around your waist, "Don't worry about it."

You wanted to stay like this forever. Unfortunately, the moment was ruined when Eddie went to grab a nugget right off the tray and yelped as it burned him. "They just got done." you said, trying not to laugh, "You watched me pull them out."

He went over to the sink and ran his hand under some cold water, "Yeah, but..Why are they still so hot?"

"Eddie," you laughed, "They just came out of a piping hot oven."

You got a couple of plates out of the cupboard as Eddie dried his hands. You were putting them on the kitchen island as you saw him go for another nugget out of the corner of your eye. Sometimes its good that not everything changes.

#eddie brock imagine #eddie brock x reader #venom imagine #venom x reader #marvel imagine #marvel x reader

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vertanimeni · 4 years ago

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the ice will start to break, the day will fade away (9/18)

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 Blake/Grounder OC

Word Count: 5,040

TW: Canon typical violence, virus outbreak/illness, Wells fingers and phantom pain, "Medical Procedure" if you could call it that + Some nasty stuff*, PTSD + Traumatic Memories*

*Note, Nasty part starts with "The morning came and went" and ends with "The ramp of the dropship". Includes vomit and blood. **Note, Traumatic memories is the italicized part starting with "A mountain road" to "bows and arrows in hand" if you want to skip that.

I’ll be leaving a summary at the bottom just in case anyone wants to skip.

A/N: Hello friends!! This chapter... is a lot. Sorry it took so long, finals week was pretty rough and I didn’t have time to edit it until recently. I’m yeeting Kova back at y’all. 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. As of right now, I will be updating every Friday at 4pm EST. Enjoy, and please read the trigger warnings! It’s a heavy chapter.

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ix. impotent (or not).

When the curtained entrance of the dropship fluttered, a wave of much needed fresh air entered and spread throughout the three levels. Unfortunately, this also meant the delinquents camping near the dropship would get hit with a wave of pained groans and the murky scent of old blood. Under Clarke’s orders, those delinquents had to move their tents away, and no one was allowed to enter the dropship, with very few exceptions.

Wells was one of these few exceptions, and he wished he wasn’t, as much as he hated the thought.

He could barely hear himself think, let alone have some (desperately needed) alone time. With every delinquent he attended to, two more would try to kick the bucket, and some of them had even refused his help. It was needless to say why, given his status within the group, but that didn’t stop the shock and irritation gathering at the pit of his stomach.

And it was barely dawn — much too early for this bullshit. At some point, he snapped when a group of delinquents at Death’s door rejected his help, complaining of the pain and mocking him in the same breath. “Listen,” Wells had grit out, hands clenching into fists, “either you let me take care of you all, or I’ll let Kova and Murphy deal with it.”

The way the group looked like they had bit into a particularly sour lemon gave Wells a satisfaction he hadn’t known was possible.

Oh yes, Kova (and surprisingly Murphy) had offered their services to help Clarke with the sick. Last time Wells saw Kova, they had changed into old, worn out clothes and their long dreads had been pulled back in a low bun, all done as if they had had experience with handling the sick. Most delinquents had only allowed Kova’s help when they were told the only other option would be Murphy.

Needless to say, the group fell quiet after that.

Wells was already stressed out to the max, even with three people working by his side. Wells and Murphy took care of those who had started improving while Kova and Clarke would take care of the sick at at death’s door.

Every once in a while someone would switch over when somebody needed a break, but Clarke wouldn’t allow Murphy and Kova to work together, not after their fifth argument before the sun could even peak over the horizon. He had no idea how Clarke had originally planned on helping the infected all by herself, and frankly, he didn’t think he would be able to handle her answer.

“Wells!”

Speaking of. “Yeah?”

“Could you leave a bowl of water by Eva? Don’t worry about finding a cloth, Kova’s on that.”

“Yup!”

He grabbed an unused bowl and reached into the water bucket, only to find it empty. He picked it up and made his way to the front of the dropship. Wells couldn’t help but roll his eyes. Something told him it wasn’t Kova - they had a habit of bringing in a new bucket once the old bucket was only 1/4th full. ‘I already reminded Murphy to replace it before.’

At the front of the dropship, the water crew were kind enough to leave them a row of filled buckets, replaced every half hour. Thoughts preoccupied, he picked up a heavy bucket with his injured hand, curling non-existent digits around the handle. Pain shot up his nerves and the bucket tumbled out of his grip. He recoiled, waiting for the clatter of metal against metal—

“Careful.”

He didn’t realized he had clenched his eyes tight until he heard the familiar voice. He forced his eyes open, only to see the top of a boot holding up the handle of the bucket. Kova stood before him, balancing on one foot, a bundle of clean(ish) rags in their hands. Slowly, they brought up one of their legs and took the bucket with their free hand.

“You strained your fingers.” They pointed out with a jut of their head.

Still in a state of shock from the sudden pain, he looked down at the bandages, now blotted with blood at the stump, and a meek “Oh” left his lips.

Before he could say anything else, Kova put aside the bucket and the bundle of cloths and took his head in theirs. The pain had dulled down to a throbbing ache, but still, he flinched, urging his body to not move away as much as he desperately wanted to, but he was surprised to find that their fingers were gentle despite calloused, nimble, and most importantly, confident. “You seem like you know what you’re doing.” He commented.

“Not my first time handling amputations.” A far-off look glazed over their eyes, one that Wells had seen a few times already when Kova thought of home (or, at least, that’s what he thought). “It feels like your fingers are still there, right? You try to curl them, but it only hurts?”

“How’d you know?”

“I’ve seen patients who lost appendages at the joint during my internship years.” The corners of Kova’s lips upturned, not enough for a smile, not a grimace either. “When they try to curl with a prosthetic, the nerves flare up in the only way they can — through pain.”

Now, that was a lot to unpack. Wells could only manage to say, “Sorry, you—? Patients?”

“Mn.” They dropped his hands. “I used to work in prosthetic handling before all this. Find Clarke and ask her to check if the stitching popped.”

“Sure, after I do this real quick.” Wells reached for the bucket—

The placed their arm across the bucket. “I got it. You deal with that first.”

For the first time in a while, anger sparked in his stomach. “I’m not fragile—”

“I never said you were. Unless you have a death wish, you shouldn’t be helping a bunch of sick people with an open wound.”

Ah. That… That’s fair. Wells glanced between Kova and the bucket. They weren’t planning on relenting any time soon. “Yeah. Alright. I’ll find Clarke real quick, but…” He hesitated, “do you mind if I… I just have a few questions—”

“Find me afterwards.” They nodded. “I can try my best to answer.”

He had never looked for Clarke faster.

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It was only when the sick would cough up less blood, the dropship would grow quieter and quieter, and the crease between Clarke’s eyebrows would start to relax, did Wells get a chance to ask Kova quesions. Although truthfully, when he plopped down next to them around the corner of the Ark during their break, drinking boiled water, all he could think about was how Clarke handled his wounds with such care, the gentleness of her fingers as she unwrapped his bandages, that one stubborn baby hair curling just above her eyebrow, the worry lining around her eyes—

“—Wells.”

He startled out of his thoughts. Blood rushed to his cheeks when he realized Kova had been trying to catch his attention for the better part of the past few minutes. “Ah— Yeah, sorry. I, uh,” He motioned to his hand, hopefully directing attention from his burning cheeks. Kova’s look told him otherwise, but thankfully they obliged and looked away. “I’ve come to terms with it. But. Well. How much do you know about our home in space, the Ark?”

“Octavia explained somewhat at the bridge.”

“To put it simply, the rules there were very strict."

"Death for any crime, even for having a second child.”

Ah. Truthfully, after the initial reveal of the girl under the floor, Wells hadn’t put in a lot of thought about the second child. He was quite young when it happened, and by the time he grew up, he had other things to worry about, like the state of the Ark, his father’s expectations, Clarke, and her family, especially after her father died and she was sent to the Sky Box. To him, the Blakes were just another family torn apart for breaking the rules, just like the Griffins.

But down here, he had to face the consequences of such thinking. Down here, he became eye to eye with the remnants of said broken families. At first, it was difficult to unlearn what his father had taught him, to unlearn that exceptions were not allowed. There was a difference between a 16 year old boy who murdered for fun and an 8 year old girl who stole extra food after her parents had been floated. And now, to explain and try to justify the rules of the Ark, he wondered how he couldn’t see that before.

Regardless, there he was, nursing his boiled water, explaining how his father, the Chancellor, enforced the rules, and how most people wanted revenge by taking vengeance out on him. Not once did Kova give him a pitying or judgmental look (’or, maybe they hid it well,’ his mind unhelpfully supplied.)

“Then, there was this little girl named Charlotte, who watched her parents get floated. She uh…” His hand went up to where the scar on his neck was, laid out for all to see, and his voice wavered. “She tried to kill me. She only nicked me. I tried to stop her, but she swung the knife around and cut my fingers off. I passed out, and she left me there because she thought she killed me.

“I was knocked out for a day and a half from blood loss, shock, and an infection, but they couldn't tell my father I was still alive because they had already lost contact with the Ark. The problem is before all of this happened, Murphy threatened me for the same reason — my father — and Charlotte had used Murphy’s knife. When the camp found the knife, they accused him and tried to punish him in the same way.”

“By trying to kill him?”

He nodded again. “They tried to hang Murphy, but I guess the guilt got to her — she confessed during the hanging. He practically hunted her down and by the end of the day, she killed herself by jumping off a cliff. The group banished Murphy afterwards.”

“And now he’s back.”

“And now he’s back.” He repeated with a heavy sigh. “With a flu.”

The two stared off into the distance, falling quiet. “The son shall not bear the sins of the father,” Kova quoted, turning to him, “but the son should acknowledge his father’s mistakes. This,” they gestured behind them, to the dropship, “is not your fault. You and your father just so happened to be connected to it.”

“Is it not the same?”

“No, They’re different.” But, if he had asked them three years ago, they would have said the opposite. This was no longer a few years ago.

The sound of the camp rising and getting to work filled the silence that fell between them, until Kova said, “The pain you feel in your fingers — it’s called phantom pain.”

The fact that there was a name for his condition shouldn’t have made the pain lessen, shouldn’t have made Wells relax a little easily, but it did. A name. It wasn’t just him. “Oh.” He managed to murmur, cradling his hand with the other, gently pressing it against his chest. “Oh.”

Back into silence. He was grateful Kova let him settle with the new information for a moment, but he couldn’t help but ask, “Are you a doctor?”

They couldn’t help but snort. “Not a doctor. Just a prosthetist. I help shape and attach prosthetics to the amputated part. If you want, I can try and find some spare finger prosthetics and fit them for you myself—”

“Why?”

Kova paused. “Why what?”

“I… I don’t mean to sound rude, but why? Why would you do that?”

“…hmm.” How could they possibly explain that their once hateful view of the invaders— no, sky people — changed? That he and the others remind him of the children and teens at their village? Instead, they answered with, “Octavia told me that, besides her, you were the first one who stood up for my brother when Bellamy and Clarke tortured him. I will forever be grateful for that. And…”

“…and?”

“…You remind me of someone.” They left it at that, patting his shoulder and standing up. “C’mon, let’s go back and help your friends.”

Wells stared at them, and for a moment Kova worried he would press for more answered, but in the end all he did was nod, a smile on his face.

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The morning came and went. By the time Wells could take a break, four delinquents had died and Murphy and Kova only got into two arguments. Technically, it wasn’t even a break. He sat outside the dropship on the ramp, eating his rations while updating the other delinquents how the sick were doing. So far, everything had calmed down—

“Make way! We got an infected kid here!”

Wells stood too quickly and his knees cracked. He recognized that voice.

Shocked gasps came from the group of delinquents. They parted, allowing Raven and Fox to pass through, carrying a feverish looking child between them. “Wells! Emmie’s sick, we need help!” Raven called out.

Wells wouldn’t have hesitate to carry Emmie himself if it weren’t for his newly bandages hand. With the warnings from both Clarke and Kova in the back of his mind, he didn’t want to risk hurting Emmie or opening his wounds again, so as soon as he heard Raven, he stuck his head through the curtain and called for Kova.

Fox already had skin as pale as river rocks from the nearby stream and was just as anxious as the disturbed tadpoles by its shore, but she blanched further and her hands trembled at the call of the grounder’s name. Said grounder emerged from the curtains, eyebrows creased in worry, but Fox gripped Emmie’s legs ever so slightly. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Raven whirl her head sharply to give her the most angriest look Fox had ever seen on her, as if Raven knew exactly what Fox had been thinking. She couldn’t help but flinch as Raven opened her mouth—

“You can trust them.” A voice interrupted from the side. Fox turned to the crowd around them. She saw Finn jut his head towards the grounder. “Kova has been helping Clarke and the others all night and morning. They know what they’re doing.”

Seemingly composed, Kova wordlessly dipped their head in gratitude, but Fox noticed the uncertain tremble in their hands. Finn acknowledged it with his own nod.

Wells placed a comforting hand on her arm (when did he get so close?) and Fox looked down at the young girl she had been taking care of since they landed. Her breaths came short and rapid, her forehead beading with sweat and creased with a pained frown.

Without realizing, Fox nodded. Her arms, shaking with Emmie’s weight, relaxed as she and Raven passed the girl to Kova’s arms. With one arm across her back and the other holding up her legs, Kova hoisted Emmie on their hip and sped back to the dropship, calling out “Wells, let’s go!” over their shoulder.

But with the sudden change in position, a wave of nausea and dizziness hit Emmie quite suddenly. Her body tensed and saliva built up in her mouth and throat—

Years of training couldn’t stop the falter in their step, the disgusted shiver running up their spine, nor the goosebumps scattering across their arms as Emmie promptly vomited streaks of bile and blood over Kova’s shoulder, some of it catching on their clothes.

Well, not really their clothes, thankfully. But still.

Wells ran into the dropship first. The group of delinquents gasped and gagged, even as the two made their way inside.

At first, Kova thought the wet spot on their shoulder was vomit and had pointedly ignored it. Until Emmie started trembling, her forehead against their shoulder, and the wet spot grew bigger with every audible sniff.

“It’s alright, I got you.” They soothingly rubbed her back. “I’m here.”

“Kova, I’m sorry.”

“Here!” Wells suddenly called out.

“Coming! What are you apologizing for?”

“Vomiting on you.” Her voice cracked with another sob.

“No need. That’s not something you need to apologize for, but if it helps, I forgive you.”

Emmie nodded against their shoulder and Kova gently placed her on the makeshift bed. “I’m scared.” Another sniff, another whimper, and her arms wrapped around herself across her middle. “My stomach hurts.”

Their hands clenched into fists, but Kova kept them out of sight. There was nothing worse than seeing someone else in pain and not being able to do anything about it. Before they could speak, Wells stood and said, “It’s alright, we’ll take care of you. I’ll get water.”

Kova watched him leave until they felt a small hand on their knee.

“How come you’re not wearing the mask today?” Emmie’s question came with a shortening of breath and a weak smile that faltered with every wave of pain.

Ah. That’s why they felt lighter together. “I left it at my tent. Why, is it strange to see my face? Am I scary? Should I go get it?” They couldn’t help but tease, wiggling their eyebrows ever so slightly.

With every question, Emmie’s grin grew wider and wider and she shook her head vigorously. But one wrong move and her body tensed, her smile became a grimace, and her hands fisted her shirt across her middle, sweaty and clammy.

Wells came back and sent Kova a look, but they didn’t let even a hint of panic show on their face, and instead calmly asked, “Emmie, could you take a deep breath for me?”

She tried, but her chest hitched after a certain point. She winced and shook her head. “It hurts too much.”

“I see. You’re probably just sore from vomiting. Would you like for me to put your hair up?” They pushed back a curl making its way towards her eye. “So it’s out of your face?”

“Could you put it in a bun?”

“Mn. Wells, could you get a hair tie from Clarke?” Wells nodded, but before he could stand up, Kova caught his sleeve and whispered, “She has a hemothorax. Get Clarke. Bring a needle.”

Not wanting to alert Emmie, he nodded and left as fast as he could. Meanwhile, Kova kept her occupied and dipped a rag into the bowl Wells brought. “I see you’ve learnt my name. I will admit, I will miss being called ‘pretty stranger.’”

Emmie gave them a weak smile. “Fox told me after I bumped into you.”

“Ah. The girl outside? The one holding you?”

“The one with straight hair is Fox, but the one with the ponytail is Raven.”

Raven… Kova felt they had seen her before when it hit them — the meeting at the bridge. She was one of the gunners. “I see.” They dabbed at her forehead with the damp rag. “Are you close with both of them?”

“Yeah! Fox hangs out with the kids around here, mostly to keep us out of trouble, but before we landed I never really talked to her, but I knew she existed.”

If Kova hadn’t known much about the Ark, they would have been confused, but it made sense — of course Emmie would at the very least know of Fox’s existence, since the Ark was a closed and tight population, but that didn’t mean they really knew each other. “Right, right.”

“Same thing with Raven, but I think she’s, uh, an… en… engineer?”

“Raven’s a mechanic.” Came a voice from behind. “Don’t let her hear you call her an engineer, or she’ll get really upset.” Clarke dragged the word out playfully before she dropped to her knees besides Kova. Wells came up behind the two and passed Kova a hair tie before going to check on the other patients. “I heard you’re not feeling good, is that right?”

Emmie nodded, her head lolling loosely. “My chest was hurting, but now my back hurts too.”

“I see. Do you think you can roll on your side for us?”

She nodded once more, and with the help of Clarke and Kova, she rolled onto her left side. She coughed once, twice, then after the third time each cough came out deep and rattled. Kova sent Clarke a questioning look.

“It’s pretty common, I wouldn’t worry about it.” Clarke assured them—

—Blood splattered across the blanket, the floor, and specks landed on Kova’s knees. A scared whimper, more blood, and Emmie’s breathing came in quick and shallow—

“Lay her down on her back!” Clarke ordered.

Kova did so, and when Clarke took out the needle from behind her back, they blocked Emmie’s view of it.

“Kova—”

“I’m here.”

“It hurts!”

“I know, I know,” They gathered her hair into a bun, using the sweat beading at her forehead to keep strays away from her face. “It will get better, I’m here. Give it time.”

Kova only realized that no, it wouldn’t get better with time, when Clarke said, “It’s not working.”

They leaned back and tapped Well’s leg, silently grateful he was still close by, and motioned for him to keep Emmie occupied. As soon as her hazy attention switched from them to Wells, Kova moved next to Clarke. “What’s not working?”

She stuck the needle at a different angle and pulled the plunger back. “Her blood pressure is too low, I don’t think she’s eaten or drank anything today, and the blood isn’t coming out—!”

With a pop!, the plunger came off of the syringe.

What… What kind of luck?

Alerted by the sound, Wells looked back, only to turn back to Emmie with the most neutral face he could possibly manage. Clarke and Kova stared at the plunger, hanging uselessly from the former’s fingertips.

As quietly as possible, Kova gritted out, “Get another one.”

“That was the last one. Bellamy sent out a team to get more from the bunker, but I don’t know how long it’ll take.”

“Those are over 200 years old—” Kova cut themselves off with a deep breath, closing their eyes. When they opened up again, both Clarke and Wells were sweating with anxiety. “Alright. Fine.” They pulled out the syringe and twisted the barrel off, leaving just the needle and its hilt. They turned to Clarke. “Get me two buckets — one empty, one with water — and a cup.”

“What are you—”

They stuck the needle in, just slightly lower than where it had been last time. Emmie flinched, and Kova patted her arm with an apologetic smile. Then they leaned forward—

With a sharp intake of breath, Clarke stumbled onto their feet and ran off. Alerted by the clatter, Wells glanced back only to turn and give his full attention to Emmie with a conversation on food, discreetly scooting closer to block her from the view.

Kova’s ears perked up at the sound of one heavy and one light clank in front of them, and one softer clank closer to their face. They reached for the empty bucket and spat out blood before returning to the hilt of the needle.

They repeated this until halfway through the fourth suck, Kova suddenly flinched. But before Clarke could react, they pulled the bucket underneath and spat out the last of the blood in their mouth while blood flowed freely from the needle. Emmie’s breathing, albeit shaky, deepened, and her eyes fluttered closed. Clarke checked her vitals with two fingers on her wrist and nodded. “She’s alright.”

A cup filled with water entered their vision. Kova took it with a thanks and swished it in their mouth before spitting it into the bucket of blood. Wells wordlessly took the cup, filled it with water, and passed it back. The two repeated this for a while until the tang of stale metal lessened. After Kova spat out their last swish, they said, “The blood.”

“What?”

“It tastes old.” Kova paused and looked between the two. “We will have to check on the others for early signs of hemothoraces, too.”

“Ah. Right,” Clarke nodded weakly, “of course. Here.” She offered a napkin, but Kova shook their head and gently pushed her hand back.

“Save it for her and the others.” They wiped their mouth with the end of their sleeve, smearing blood across their cheek. “I will…” They looked down at their dirtied clothes. “Go to my tent. And wash up.” They paused. “Will you two—”

“Please go. Take your time.”

“We’ll watch her.”

“…mn. Thanks.”

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The ramp of the dropship creaked as Kova made their way down, but instead of heading to their tent, they turned and walked around the corner of the dropship. As soon as they were out of sight from the rest of the camp, they braced themselves against the wall with a forearm and dry heaved. They gasped for breath—

A mountain road. Hundreds of dead bodies at its feet. The ends of a long jacket fluttered against their calves, cut apart with a rough knife, leaving threads to hang loosely. Fabric covered the lower half of their face. The pungent tang of blood coating their tongue. Throat so sore they just want to stick their fingers down inside and scratch—

They stumbled up the steep road alongside their fellow warriors (ones they had sent on a death mission—) Dehydrated, exhausted, bleeding out. It was a wonder how they got so far up before they finally collapsed. They can't move. Any fight they might have had disperses when their body finally— finally —slumped against the cold ground. They close their eyes. They rest. And they wait.

“Duck!”

Their eyes snap open at the sounds of bodies dropping around them. Kova found themselves face to face with one of their warriors, a young one at that, staring at them with wide eyes, body seizing as if trying to reject, trying to fight the two arrows stuck in their neck, and far too suddenly to be natural, the warrior stilled, but not before coughing out a last burst of blood, specking across Kova’s face. They flinched.

A thunder of footsteps tremble the mountain against their ear. Kova looked down, still at dirt level, only to see Azgeda’s army sprinting up the road, bows and arrows in hand—

“—Kova? You okay? Did something happen?”

Someone’s hand lightly grasped their shoulder, and even though being touched was the last thing they wanted, the warmth seeping through their shoulder grounded them, pulled them back from where they were spiraling towards. Instead of leaning against the wall, they found themselves sitting against it. They let out a deep breath, trying to calm down. “Yeah. I’m alright.” They turned to the voice—

Ah. The girl from before. Raven. Kova couldn’t control their shocked look, and Raven’s eyebrows creased in concern. “I saw you run back here. What’s wrong?”

“I’m fine.” The last thing they wanted to talk about was on their mind—

“You don’t look it.”

They looked down at their trembling, clammy hands. She had a point. They let out a resigned sigh. “Children.”

“What?”

“You have children here.”

“…yeah. We have more on the Ark.”

“The people down here are prisoners. They committed crimes. How do children commit crimes?” Raven fell silent. Kova continued. “Not just that, but Trikru knows.”

“Your clan? What do they know?”

“That you have children here.” They looked around the dense forest around. Now that they thought about it, they hadn’t seen any scout activities, nor did they hear about any grounders running around from the sky people. Did they leave already? “Trikru knew. But they still sent Murphy here with this disease. That breaks the Coalition Conventions.”

Raven was still silent, as if she were waiting for Kova to get all their thoughts out.

“Disgusting.” They spat to the side, far away on the poor grass. “I never would have expected them to go this far. They claim they want vengeance for the lives lost by the invaders, but how can they take vengeance knowing there are innocent children? Non-combatants? None of you all know what you’re doing, you had no idea there were people living here.” They took a deep breath. “Your people aren’t right, but neither are mine.” They couldn’t help but let out a loud, bitter laugh. Raven eyed them, as if watching someone break their sanity. “And somehow, you all had the luck to land here during a time of political unrest and the instability of the Coalition.

They hadn’t meant to spiral into a rant, but they were tired. They just didn’t realize how much until they planned the bridge scenario with Lincoln that one fateful day, and now? Now, here they are.

They snapped their head up, Raven watching them with wide eyes and a parted mouth. “My apologies, I shouldn’t have—”

“No, no, you’re good. I just—” Raven let out a light laugh, shoulders slumping with relief, as if Kova’s rant took off a heavy burden. “I wasn’t expecting that. Nice to know there’s someone on our side.” She lightly bumped her shoulder against theirs.

“Like I said, you all aren’t in the right, either. But,” They sent her a small reassuring smile, dipping their head slightly, and said, “neither is Trikru. And I’m not the only one thinking that.”

“Mmh, I sure hope so. Is…” Raven paused, glancing to the dropship. “Is Emmie okay?”

“Yeah. She had an issue with her lungs. But she was getting better, last time I saw her.”

“Good, good. Well, you definitely have my full support now.” She sent them a grin.

“Mn.” The corners of their mouth upticked. “You thought I was trying to sneak back to Trikru, didn’t you.”

Her eyes widened and she sputtered, her cheeks darkening slightly. “No! I mean. Well— Yeah. Sorry about that.”

“I think that was the first time I’ve ever seen proper security around here. Don’t apologize. Trust your gut.” They would have done the same if the situation were reversed, after all. “I’m glad you did. Want to come check on Emmie with me?”

“God, yes please. Fox has been going crazy in her tent.”

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⟻ Previous Chapter || Masterlist || Next Chapter ⟼

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A summary of TW notes for those who didn't want to read:

1) Illness - Same illness as before, the virus Murphy spread. More people are sick.

2) Wells' fingers - He tried to pick up a bucket with the wrong hand and ended up with phantom pain, something he didn't know was a real thing until Kova talked to him about it.

3) Medical Procedure + Nasty Stuff - Emmie gets sick with the virus and vomits. She also has a hemothorax, so Kova uses an unconventional way to drain the blood build up in her chest. I'm not a medical expert and wouldn't recommend doing it that way, but I've seen this done in my home village in Ecuador where there aren't many good/non-corrupted doctors. And it’s gross lol.

4) PTSD + Traumatic Memories - After #3, Kova recalls a traumatic memory from Mount Caocin that implies that they a) had to deal with this virus multiple times before, b) had done the unconventional way to drain the blood before, and c) had vaguely suicidal thoughts during their Mount Caocin era.

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

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kingofthewilderwest · 5 years ago

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In Race to the edge, I do think that Heather is a good character in terms of being well developed and contributing to the storylines, but there are just certain aspects about her that stop me liking her. She just comes across as full of herself and really boar headed. I know that Hiccup is boar headed as well, but unlike him, Heather never listens to anyone. She talks down to the other characters as well, albeit not in a comical way like Snotlout and the twins do. With her it is more nasty.

I think it’s perfectly fine to recognize a character is a well-developed, good character, but at the same time not enjoy her presence on screen! In many cases, writing a good character means that the audience will hate them (Solf J. Kimblee and Shou Tucker from FMAB come to mind). Regardless, whatever the writer’s intent for characters, we all have the right to dislike or like the characters we do. Even if we fully understand why the character was written into a story, that doesn’t mean we have to connect and fawn over them. So you do you with Heather! That’s chill!

That said, I do think there’s an important distinction to make between Heather and Hiccup’s personalities and life choices. These two characters might both be boar-headed, but they come from very different life circumstances.

Heather is a character who lacks trust in others. She’s gone through many traumatic events, from being separated from her birth parents, to watching the Outcasts kidnap her adoptive parents, to watching invaders destroy her hometown and kill many people including her adoptive parents, to fending for herself with no humans to support her, to learning that the sociopath behind her misery is her biological brother. All these circumstances have scarred Heather to the point that trusting others is legitimately challenging - even daunting.

There gets to be a point in peoples’ lives that, when they’ve been repeatedly harmed by others… they lack the innate ability to form meaningful trusting relationships, even when they yearn to connect. There’s this constant internal dialogue taunting you, saying that you’re destined to be alone, that everyone will leave you because everyone always has. It becomes a game of fighting yourself and somehow reversing negative beliefs you’ve held for years.

Now, it’s not that Hiccup hasn’t had hard points in life too. I mean, he lost a freaking leg as a teenager! He had rough differences of opinion with his father, too. But he didn’t develop the trauma and vast insecurities Heather did. And while Hiccup’s had harrowing escapades with enemies like Alvin and Dagur, Hiccup’s emotionally improved throughout his teenaged years because his social network has increasingly supported him. Hiccup has become more confident, more comfortable, and happier. Hiccup has been able to trust his peers; he has a close-knit social network he knows he can count on, a father who believes in him, and a best friend dragon who stays by his side through anything.

Hiccup isn’t in a psychological situation where trust is hard to understand. He hasn’t been conditioned by negative experiences to the point that his internal dialogue is telling him his friends can never be reliable. Hiccup makes his boar-headed decisions for different reasons than Heather does. When Heather acts in her own interests, it’s not that she’s justified doing those things… she’s still making wrong choices that hurt others… but I think it’s understandable given her painful background. And frankly, that fear you’ll always be alone, that suspicion even the nicest people will have to leave you behind… it is HARD AS HELHEIM to unlearn.

We see this struggle in Heather throughout Race to the Edge. Heather doesn’t listen to the others because she’s scared to trust them. Heather acts on her own self-interests because she thinks that no one else will take care of her.

In Have Dragons, Will Travel, Heather says that she believes she’s destined to be alone. She’s gotten to such a low point that, even though she’s in the company of friendly people, she doesn’t think she belongs with them. She believes she’s been cast out alone, and that’s how life will continue.

Hiccup: I talked to Johann. He told me Dagur wiped out your village… and your family. I’m sorry.Heather: Then you know why he has to pay.Hiccup: I do. But you don’t have to do this alone.Heather: I don’t know. It seems that I’m destined to be alone.

Heather is unable to trust the dragon riding gang. She’s skittish. Even though she’s touched that they’re trying to do well for her, she’s also so accustomed to fighting for herself. Fearful that these people will turn against her, she can’t trust them with basic friendship instincts. She locks up their dragons, which is definitely for her own self-interest and their harm… and she’s doing it out of fear, from lack of trust.

Heather: Look, I’m sorry I locked up your dragons. I just didn’t trust that you guys would let me go after Dagur.

Heather’s fragile fears break when all the riders are tell Heather that attacking Dagur is a bad idea. Heather’s response that they’re “all talk” rather than friends. Now, it’s true that real friends stop others from doing foolish things. Fishlegs, Snotlout, and Astrid aren’t wrong to question Heather here. Heather’s reaction is emotional rather than logical. However, I find it very realistic given her situation. It’s a response I have seen MANY TIMES by people who’ve been scarred by trust:

Fishlegs: Wait a minute. You want us to go into battle with Dagur and the Beserkers without Hiccup and Toothless?Heather: Guys, I wish Hiccup and Toothless were here, trust me. But they’re not. And we can’t wait. Fishlegs: I have to say any aerial assault of this magnitude would be foolish without Toothless. He’s the most powerful dragon in our arsenal. Heather: You heard Johann, Astrid. This is our last chance. Tell them.Astrid: Well… Look, Heather…Heather: You too?! Just forget it. All that stuff about trust and having my back… I guess that was just talk!

Heather is so accustomed to being alone that when she sees her friends being less-than-rosy to her, her fears kick in, and she believes they’re full-out against her (because everyone’s always been against her, she feels).

Heather again demonstrates an inability to trust Hiccup in Snow Way Out. To be fair, she’s grown. She trusts Astrid enough to give Astrid information about the dragon hunters. At the same time, old habits and deep fears are hard to overcome. We see that Heather still is acting with limited trust, believing Hiccup wouldn’t react the right way to her spying, and that Astrid isn’t judging the situation right when she suggests they tell Hiccup.

Astrid: We should tell Hiccup what we’re doing, this doesn’t feel right.Heather: No. We agreed.Astrid: I’ve never lied to him before!Heather: I know. But this is the best way to take the Dragon Hunters down. From the inside.Astrid: Hiccup could help us! He’s really good at this stuff.Heather: He also cares too much. Astrid, if we told Hiccup that I was spying on the Hunters, we both know he’d try to pull me out of there.

To Heather or Not to Heather also shows Heather’s struggles continuing. Since she’s inclined to be alone, she’s quick to give up and believe she isn’t going to be part of the dragon riding gang. Windshear starts acting up, and Heather’s immediate response is that “this isn’t meant to be.”

Heather: Windshear doesn’t belong with other dragons. And no matter how much I love being on Dragon’s Edge, I’m not gonna choose all of you over her.Fishlegs: But you haven’t even given it a chance. Hiccup is the best dragon trainer there is. I’ve seen him do things I never thought were possible. Heather: I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. Really, I do. I just can’t take the risk.Fishlegs: Okay. I wasn’t gonna say this, but here it goes. I don’t want to go back to being long-distance Terror mail pals. I want you here.Heather: And I feel the same way. Believe me. But Windshear has spent her whole life with me. Protecting me, and watching over me. That’s all she knows how to do. I’m sorry, Fishlegs.Fishlegs: I have an idea. I’ll never ask you again, but please, just this once, trust me, Heather.

“Please, just this once, trust me, Heather.”

Even with the man Heather is starting to attach romantic affections with, she’s finding some difficulties trusting still.

I know I’m talking mostly about her in the first few seasons, but since this is the starting point of Heather (and her character arc conclusion is getting to the point she can even trust Dagur again in Gold Rush), I think this is the context whereby we can understand why she acts the way she does for the whole series.

It’s true that Heather is boar-headed at times, and it’s true that not all her boar-headed choices are based on lack of trust. It’s true sometimes she says things that are somewhat scathing to other dragon riders. But to be fair, the dialogue in the DreamWorks Dragons shows has Astrid and Hiccup saying some pretty scathing things to the twins and Snotlout, too. The friendship dynamic of the Edge is one of constantly haranguing on each other. In a weird way, the fact Heather starts dishing on the others has always felt to me like a depiction she’s finally part enough of the gang to understand their dynamics and get in on them. Doesn’t mean that all the insults the gang says to one another are justified, but it’s interesting to think that Heather starts picking up the crew’s interactions and becoming a part of them.

It’s also true that I don’t remember the middle seasons of rtte as well and am not talking about how she acts during those either!

So it’s not that Heather’s always justified in how she treats others or how she acts in her own interests. However, I think that we do have to understand Heather in this light of her psychology. Lots of the times Heather charges out on her own is because her life’s been conditioned that way, and she’s stuck in a psychological rut fearing that only she can help herself. She does also have a growth arc where she gets better about these things.

In the same way, when Hiccup acts boar-headed, stubborn, and aggressive in RTTE, it’s because of underlying insecurity. He feels uncomfortable being bested by Viggo. It starts to eat at him. Hiccup makes riskier, daring, and sometimes more stubbornly foolish choices… because of what he’s internally fighting through. It doesn’t take away the fact this is a character weakness for him. Faults are faults. But it does mean we can understand why he’s in this mental framework, too.

Whether or not we like Hiccup for acting that aggressive, or Heather for acting in her own self-defense, it’s up to us how we feel about them. And liking or hating them, even when we understand their dynamics, is a part of us being humans with opinions. No opinion of “I like this character” or “I dislike this character” is wrong! I suppose I personally don’t call Heather “nasty,” but “scarred and struggling.” She’s also a character I connect with and love in RTTE. That said, even if she didn’t have a background reason for being a little harsher in the story, it doesn’t change the fact that we can acknowledge characters who are good for storylines but might not be our personal faves. We all have different relationships with characters, and we don’t have to love all of them! For me, I’m happy to love Heather. For you, you might not connect, and there are other characters you enjoy seeing on screen!

Take care and stay awesome. Have a good one!

#happysafaricampers #long post #rtte #Race to the Edge #Heather #Hiccup #faq #analysis #my analysis #To Heather or Not to Heather #Have Dragons Will Travel #Have Dragons Will Travel Part 2 #Snow Way Out #Gold Rush #ask #ask me

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salaciouscrumpet · 5 years ago

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Whumptober Day 11

Whumptober Day 11 Prompt: “Stitches”

This one’s on the shorter side (for me; I know a lot of writers are able to get their Whumptober ficlets down to less than 1000 words, but that’s something I’ve never been good at). It ended up being more introspective than whumpy, I think.

CW: references to needles and stitches (obviously); injury, but nothing terribly graphic

Characters: Luke, Kate

The campfire was bright, but Luke wished for better lighting for this.

“It’s deep,” he said. He ran the tip of one finger around the outline of the slash, delineating it for Kate. No doubt her entire back was sore, but she didn’t flinch at his touch. “And still bleeding.”

Kate made a noncommittal sound, adjusting her perch on the log. The back of her shirt was dark and glossy-wet with blood, the fabric ruined beyond all hope of repair. She’d been bleeding long enough that it had dripped down her back to stain her jeans. They should have stopped to take care of it sooner, but between seemingly endless waves of dark Fae monsters and the encroaching nightfall, there hadn’t been any opportunities. They couldn’t very well fight and apply pressure at the same time.

Luke drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly, counting to a beat of five. “There’s no hope for it. This needs stitches.”

“Okay,” Kate replied simply, because for her, it really was that simple. She trusted him, just like that.

Another deep breath. He could do this; he knew how. There was certainly no way Kate could apply stitches to her own back, and the nasty slash was right below her left shoulder-blade. She was flexible, but not that flexible.

“Okay,” Luke echoed her, and pushed himself up to a standing position.

They hadn’t brought much in the way of supplies. This wasn’t supposed to be that kind of camping trip. Their first aid kit was stocked – Charlie wouldn’t let them out of the house for more than a few hours without at least a minimal allocation of emergency medical supplies – but only with the bare necessities. Band-Aids, gauze, tape, various small tubes of ointment, and yes, a tiny surgical kit that Charlie had probably put together himself because he knew the two of them. No painkillers, though, and no antibiotics, which was almost certainly an oversight. The antibiotics, anyway; out in the woods it wasn’t likely that either Kate or Luke would risk taking painkillers, no matter how much an injury pained them. They couldn’t take the chance that the drugs would leave them addled or with lowered defenses. Still, Luke would have preferred something to give Kate, before or after he sewed her up like an old shirt.

He brought the first aid kit back to the fire, setting it down on the log beside Kate. She barely even glanced at it, her attention fixed on the fire Luke had built as soon as they’d made camp. He hadn’t wanted to waste the time but he needed light to be able to see, and the night was too dark and cloudy to make do without a campfire. The warmth was an added bonus.

“So,” he said, and paused. He flipped open the first aid kit and peered inside, then took out the things he would need and set them inside the overturned lid. Gauze and tape, because the wound was too long and wide for Band-Aids to suffice. Rubbing alcohol to clear away the blood and clean as much of the skin around the injury as possible, and maybe also to sterilize the needle and thread, although both came in sealed – and therefore likely sterilized – packets.

Kate turned, peering at him over her injured shoulder, the firelight casting strange shadows across the planes of her face. He couldn’t read her expression, but her eyes were assessing, scanning him.

“Maybe we could just bandage it up?” she suggested, with an optimism Kate didn’t generally possess, and he knew her hesitancy wasn’t for herself. It made him feel both grateful towards her for being sympathetic, and angry with himself for needing it in the first place. He shouldn’t find this as upsetting as he did. Charlie did things like this all the time, and he wasn’t even a fighter.

But Charlie was a veterinarian, as well as a charmer – a magical healer. He handled open wounds and broken bones and disease and illness all the time because it was his job and he was damned good at it. Luke didn’t treat wounds, he created them. He’d been trained in field medicine, because that was just the smart thing to do when one was raised to be a soldier, but he was better at bandaging people up than … the other stuff. Setting bones and stitching wounds was far outside his usual area of expertise.

“No,” he said, after giving the matter serious thought. “It’s too deep for that. It’s not going to close on its own without some help.” Then, under his breath, he said, “I wish Charlie was here.”

“Hey.” Kate turned around more fully, grabbing his chin with her good hand. Her left hand rested across her leg, and she flexed her fingers a few times, grimacing as she did so. She could never stop herself from testing her injuries, and Luke knew for a fact that she could fight through this one if she needed to.

“Hey,” Kate said again, a little more forcefully when he tried to pull away. “You’ve got this. It’s just a few stitches” – It was not, she was going to need ten, maybe fifteen stitches, at least – “and then we’re done. You can do it. It’s just like doing cross-stitch.”

Luke couldn’t help the small huff of laughter that escaped his lips. He’d started doing cross-stitch as a way to engage his restless hands on the nights when his thoughts were too loud. At first he’d been reluctant to give it a try, his upbringing making him shy away from anything that might be considered a ‘feminine’ hobby. He’d grown up with a lengthy list of things boys did not do and things that they did, and cross-stitch – as well as sewing, knitting, cooking, laundry and assorted other things – was definitely not on the latter list. Both Charlie and Kate had had very different childhoods, however, and they shared the stance that if you were a man and you did something, then it was something men did. In an effort to ease him into it Kate had found a bunch of ‘vulgar’ patterns for Luke to follow, and that somehow made it seem more acceptable. He was trying to unlearn the lessons his childhood had taught him, but it helped if his cross-stitch pattern was covered in F-bombs and dirty pictures. Charlie had framed some of Luke’s finished designs, and now various rooms in their house displayed filthy words coupled with pretty, rustic images. Luke’s personal favourite was the one hung up over the fridge that simply said “We had sex in this room.”

“Sure,” he agreed, forcing an amicable tone into his voice. “I’ll just stitch your back with a giant dildo and call it a day, yeah?”

“Sounds great,” Kate said, with relish. “Too bad we don’t have bright purple suture thread. I’ve always wanted a giant purple dildo on my back. Ooh, or hot pink. I look good in pink.” She didn’t, really. Her hair had too much red in it, so most shades of pink – especially hot pink – clashed badly with her complexion. But Luke wasn’t about to argue the matter when it was clearly a joke, seeing as how she was going out of her way to make this easier on him.

Sewing up a deep, painful injury was nothing at all like doing cross-stitch, and they both knew it. They could laugh about it as much as they wanted, but it was going to hurt and there was no chance Luke’s stitches were going to be as pretty as Charlie’s would have been. Not that Kate cared about scars – Lord knew, they both had more than their fair share of those – but Luke cared about leaving them on her. Maybe, once they made it back to civilization, Charlie could remove the stitches and heal the wound with magic, and then there wouldn’t be any scars. They just needed the wound closed for now so that it would stop bleeding and not risk infection. They could worry about aesthetic appeal later.

“Hop to it, soldier.” Kate’s voice was brisk, professional, but he could hear the underlying note of sympathy in it. As blasé as she was being, Luke knew she would be just as uncomfortable if their roles were reversed. As a soldier Luke understood the necessity of causing pain in order to prevent someone – or something – else from causing pain, but it was strange to be in the position of needing to cause pain in order to heal it. He wondered how Charlie dealt with it on such a regular basis, and concluded their partner was the bravest of the three of them. When you hurt someone as a fighter it was easy to tell yourself that person had it coming, that they deserved it, that you were only doing what needed to be done to make the world a safer place. You didn’t care for that person; they were your enemy. While not everyone Charlie healed would be a friend or loved one, still, Luke knew his lover cared for that person at least a little bit. Charlie’s magic was loving, affectionate. That sometimes he might need to hurt someone to make them better … The bravery that must take.

Luke gave himself a shake and pulled out the little bottle of disinfectant, splashing a small amount of the cool liquid over his hands to clean them as much as possible. He would have preferred a sink with hot water and antibacterial soap, but if he’d had access to a sink he would’ve had access to someone else who could stitch Kate back up. So. Disinfectant wash it was. He splashed some more onto a cotton ball, then began to dab carefully at the wound on Kate’s back. Her skin around the nasty-looking slash immediately prickled with gooseflesh, and he heard her give the tiniest of gasps.

He bit back the urge to apologize – they’d be at this all night if he stopped every time he hurt her in the course of stitching her back up – and bent his head to his task. They both fell silent, and the cheerful crackles from the campfire and the occasional cry of a night animal were the only sounds.

#whumptober2019 #day 11 #no. 11 #original fiction

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lovemesomesurveys · 5 years ago

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What shows are you into? There’s several. I don’t feel like listing them. What’s your claim to fame? Uhh. I have no idea what people would know me best from or for. Are you usually early or late? Early. I hate being late. How often do you people watch? Depends where I’m at. What do you hope never changes? My family dynamic.

What’s your dream car? I don’t have one. What songs have you completely memorized? There’s several. What job would you be terrible at? Any job I feel like. What skill would you like to master? I don’t know. What are you absolutely determined to do? I haven’t felt determined to do anything in awhile. ;/ What would you rate 10 / 10? It Chapter 2. Where would you rather be from? I like being from California. What’s your favorite drink? Coffee. What quirks do you have? *shrug* How often do you play sports? I don’t at all. What website do you visit most often? Tumblr. What movie title best describes your life? I don’t knowwww. What age do you want to live to? Blah. What takes up too much of your time? Worrying/stressing. What do you wish you knew more about? Life. How different was your life one year ago? Mostly the same, with some additions. What’s the best single day on the calendar? December 25th. What are some things you’ve had to unlearn? Hmm. What’s your favorite genre of book or movie? For books I like YA/NA, contemporary, mystery, psychological thriller. For movies I like comedies, romantic comedies, dramas, psychological thriller, horror, some action, some sci-fi. What’s the farthest you’ve ever been from home? Atlanta, Georgia. What TV channel doesn’t exist but really should? *shrug* Where is the most interesting place you’ve been? I’ve been to a few places I’d consider interesting. What fad or trend do you hope comes back? I’ve noticed a lot of 90s trends have and continue to come back, which is cool. What’s the best way to start the day? Coffee. There’s no other way. What kind of art do you enjoy most? I like to color? What would your perfect room look like? Something cute and cozy. What fictional place would you most like to go? Derry, Maine. ha. What have you only recently formed an opinion about? Uhhh. What is the most heartwarming thing you’ve ever seen? Hard to say what the most heartwarming thing I’ve seen ever is, but recently my mom, brother, and I have been watching Serengeti, this wildlife documentary on Discovery (truly amazing, definitely would recommend!), and there’s this baboon, Bakari, who ends up taking in this baby baboon as his own after the mother was killed (who Bakari was in love with, but he and the leader had issues and he was kicked out the group, so they kinda snuck around together and he’d compete for her love) and it was just really sweet. He had no idea what he was doing as a single dad, but he just took the baby in and did what he had to do. What’s something you like to do the old-fashioned way? Hm. I feel like I kinda am old fashioned with some things, but of course I’m failing to think of an example at the moment. Would you rather go hang gliding or whitewater rafting? Neither. Both sound terrifying. Who has impressed you most with what they’ve accomplished? My younger brother. He’s 20 and already accomplished so much more than I have. How do you relax after a hard day of work? I don’t work. All my days are spent mostly in bed doing the same few things. But don’t confuse that for relaxing. What TV show or movie do you refuse to watch? Hm. I can’t think of something I refuse to watch. Of course there’s stuff that just doesn’t interest me or that I think looks absolutely ridiculous, but I’m not outright refusing it. Where would you spend all your time if you could? At the beach. What would be your ideal way to spend the weekend? Relaxing at the beach. I actually wish I owned a beach home and could at least relax near the beach on my private balcony. What’s the best way a person can spend their time? Doing something they enjoy. What would be the most amazing adventure to go on? A Safari adventure. What pets did you have while you were growing up? Dogs and fish. What job do you think you’d be really good at? I don’t know. What’s the most interesting piece of art you’ve seen? Uhhh. Where is the most relaxing place you’ve ever been? The beach. What are you most likely to become famous for? Nothing. I don’t want to be famous either. What’s worth spending more on to get the best? I think stuff like computers, phones, cars... What age do you wish you could permanently be? I’d like to just stop aging now. What is special about the place you grew up? My family is here. Otherwise, I don’t like this city at all. What do you consider to be your best find? Hmm. When was the last time you climbed a tree? Never. What city would you most like to live in? I don’t know, but not this one. What is the luckiest thing that has happened to you? I don’t believe in luck. What’s the best thing that happened to you last week? I saw It Chapter 2 this past Friday. What’s your favorite piece of clothing you own / owned? All of them, which I have and keep them. I need to get rid of some, though. :( What is the most annoying question that people ask you? My previous pain specialist doctor always asked me about why I wasn’t working, what my plans were, and other stuff that just made me feel like crap and I hated it because I’m like, uh... you’re my doctor, you know what I’m dealing with and all my medical history. You should be more understanding. What is the most impressive thing you know how to do? Nothing. What was the best book or series that you’ve ever read? There’s been many. What is the most annoying habit that other people have? I hate when people feel the need to comment something negative on a post or YouTube video or something. Like they just feel compelled to leave something mean and nasty and I’m just like why? What are you looking forward to in the coming months? Cooler weather! What are some small things that make your day better? Coffee and silly, cute moments with my doggo. What one thing do you really want but can’t afford? A beach home, ha. What are you interested in that most people haven’t heard of? I’d say ASMR, but it’s becoming more well known now. Why did you decide to do the work you are doing now? I’m not working. What state or country do you never want to go back to? I haven’t been anywhere that I wouldn’t want to go back to. What are you most looking forward to in the next 10 years? Blah. What game or movie universe would you most like to live in? Hmmm. If you suddenly became a master at woodworking, what would you make? I had a wood shop elective in like 6th grade and I made a dollhouse. Cool story, I know. What amazing thing did you do that no one was around to see? Nothing comes to mind. What hobby would you get into if time and money weren’t an issue? Travel. If you didn’t have to sleep, what would you do with the extra time? I’m glad for the time I sleep. I like sleep. Some days drag on long enough. When people come to you for help, what do they usually want help with? People don’t really come to me anymore for help. Where do you usually go when you when you have time off? All my time is time off and I spend majority of it at home. What question would you most like to know the answer to? I don’t know. Like, “will I ever get better” comes to mind, but I’m terrified of the answer so it’s best I don’t know. Unless the answer was yes, ha. What is something you think everyone should do at least once in their lives? Travel. What’s something you’ve been meaning to try but just haven’t gotten around to? I don’t know. What gets you fired up? People who abuse other people, especially children, and animals. What risks are worth taking? If it’s something that could have a positive, beneficial outcome for you or if it’s something you love. What do you take for granted? I don’t mean to, but I probably take my family for granted sometimes. What do you have doubts about? My health and my life. What fact are you resigned to? Uhh. What book impacted you the most? The Bible.

What’s the best thing about you? Blahhhhh. What are you addicted to? Caffeine. When do you feel truly “alive”? When I’m at the beach is the only time I feel that way and actually feel relaxed. Who inspires you to be better? Sigh. What makes a good life? For me, personally, it would be having good health (mentally and physically). I think a lot of other things would follow if I had that. If all jobs had the same pay and hours, what job would you like to have? I. Don’t. Know. What irrational fear do you have? Killer whales is one of them. Have you ever saved someone’s life? I don’t think so. What’s the hardest lesson you’ve learned? A few of the things I’m dealing with could have been prevented, but I was stupid and stubborn and neglectful. What’s something you are self-conscious about? Everything. What is one of your favorite smells? The ocean air is one of many. What do you like most about your family? I have an amazing, loving, supportive, encouraging, caring, and funny af family. They’re the best. What is the “holy grail” of your life? I want better health. Have you ever given to any charities? Yes. What’s the last adventure you went on? The gondola ride that took us up 9,000 ft was pretty adventurous for me. I did that on my birthday. What are three interesting facts about you? If any of you have been reading my surveys long enough you know enough about me by now and know I’m not very interesting. What was the best compliment you’ve received? Hm. What chance encounter changed your life forever? Ty always comes to mind with questions like this. What do you want your epitaph to be? I’ll be cremated, so. What do you want to be remembered for? I guess it doesn’t matter. What is something you will NEVER do again? Probably drink alcohol. I mean, it’s impossible, but as of now I have no desire at all. What are you most likely very wrong about? I don’t know. What stereotype do you completely live up to? People who don’t understand mental health and chronic issues I’m sure think I’m just lazy. What dumb accomplishment are you most proud of? I got an awesome collection of giraffe stuffed animals. ha. Not dumb to me, but I’m sure people think for a 30 year old it’s lame but I don’t care. What was the most memorable gift you’ve received? Many throughout my life. What is the biggest lesson you never learned? Uh. What’s the most immature thing that you do? I’m a big baby. Who is / was your most interesting friend? Ty was. What do people think is weird about you? A lot of things, I’m sure. What chapters would you separate your autobiography into? I have no idea. My life is boring. What do you hope your last words will be? Not something I’ve thought about. What do you spend the most time thinking about? My health and my life in general. What is something you can never seem to finish? All my food most of the time. Except for sandwiches. What mistake do you keep making again and again? Health related things. What’s the best thing you got from your parents? They’ve given me a lot of things throughout my life. What is the strangest thing you have come across? I don’t know. What would a mirror opposite of yourself be like? There’d be a happy, confident, outgoing, healthy person. What’s the best and worst thing about getting older? Getting old sucks, man. What would be the scariest monster you could imagine? The depression monster. What is something you are certain you’ll never experience? Good health, a love life, real happiness... What challenging thing are you working through these days? Health stuff like I’ve mentioned several times. What’s one responsibility you really wish you didn’t have? Bills. What do you wish your brain was better at doing? Producing serotonin. If your childhood had a smell, what would it be? The smell of Playdoh always reminds me of childhood. I was obsessed with Barbies, but that doesn’t have a smell. Perhaps maybe crayons and sunshine as well. Big shocker: I actually spent a lot of time playing outside as a kid. In your group of friends, what role do you play? I don’t have a group of friends. Which of your scars has the best story behind it? Majority are surgery related, but there’s a few others from different things. What have you created that you are most proud of? I make pretty bowls of Ramen. ha. What were some of the turning points in your life? There have been a lot.

“Another turning point, a fork stuck in the road...” What bends your mind every time you think about it? There’s a lot of fascinating things. What is something that your friends would consider “so you”? People associate me with giraffes, coffee, the beach, fall, and Alexander Skarsgard. What’s something horrible that everyone should try at least once? Uh, I don’t know? If you had a personal flag, what would be on it? Nah. As the only human left on Earth, what would you do? Go insane. What stat for your life would you most like to see? None. What did you think you would grow out of but haven’t? Hmm. What are three of the most significant numbers in your life? I’ve always liked the number 8. What’s the best and worst piece of advice you’ve ever received? Blah. What song or artist do you like but rarely admit to liking? I’m not ashamed of any of the music I like. What annoys you most about the in-groups you are a part of? I’m not apart of any groups. What small gesture from a stranger made a big impact on you? I have no idea. I don’t interact much with strangers. What are some of your personal “rules” that you never break? I drink coffee everyday. That’s very important, ha. If your life was a book, what would its title be? I have one, but it’s a play on words of my last name and I don’t want to share that. Among your friends or family, what are you famous for? I’m not famous for anything. What’s the title of the current chapter of your life? Perhaps trials and tribulations. What do you strongly suspect but have no proof of? Uhhh. What do you regret not doing or starting when you were younger? I just wish I took better care of myself and didn’t neglect some things. I wish I took some things more seriously and others less seriously. As you get older, what are you becoming more and more afraid of? Losing my parents and never getting better/getting worse. In what situation or place would you feel the most out of place in? I feel out of place in life. What personality trait do you value most and which do you dislike the most? About myself or others? For myself, I will say I like my sense of humor and that I’m a child at heart. Wow, I found something positive to say about myself. As for dislike, that’s much a longer list. What would you do if you knew you were going to die in one hour? I would spend it with family, but also being incredibly sad and scared. What are some of the events in your life that made you who you are? Everything? If life is a game, like some people say, what are some of the rules? It. Goes. On. Time doesn’t stop for anyone. It doesn’t play by your rules. There are two types of people in this world. What are the two types? Is there, though? What lifestyle change have you been meaning to make for a while now? I need to take steps towards improving some things about myself and working on things, but I haven’t. What question can you ask to find out the most about a person? About their interests.

What can you not get right, no matter how many times you try? This thing called life. When people look at you, what do you think they see / think? Yikes. If you had to change your name, what would you change it to? I’ve had my name for 30 years, I think I’ll keep it. What’s the dumbest thing you’ve done that actually turned out pretty well? I can’t think of anything.

#long one #personal #text #survey #surveys

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