#survive and that includes fucking over the handsome men that have taken them under their wing

[stellewriites]

👀👂 okay but a battle royale au…? i’m listening

sy i think it could be so cool but ive honestly got no idea where id take it lmao

tied between the idea of it being a random selection kinda like how they gathered everyone in predators; could have a mix of military and a civ reader with something to hide OR i like the idea of it being military legislation and reader’s just like some receptionist, barely connected and hardly trained, should not be in the fight and yet,,

i think it could be interesting to see it bring out the worst in the boys, how they’d try to excuse it, and how reader would survive through it against the odds

but yeah other than i’ve got nothing ahdkajdj i need to rewatch it to get some inspiration!!

[troped-fanfic-challenge]

The Qualifying Round

It’s time to VOTE!!

Hey guys time to vote! fics are below! It’s officially time to vote for the Qualifying Round of Chopped Madness! The structure is simple! Please rank the eighteen (18) fics, first (1) being your top choice, and last (18) being your last choice, in order of which author you think deserves to move on to Round 1! This ranking will also be used to help us order all the authors for the brackets for Round 1.

At the end of the voting period, we will announce the TWO (2) authors who have been Chopped!! If you are not Chopped, that means you will be moving on to the next round, so keep an eye out for that post to be sure! If you aren’t sure you can always send us a message to check! 

You can vote here!

Voting Link: https://www.surveymonkey.com/r/QLFJM7M

The 18 fics that we received for this round can be found below, or on AO3 here! Each fic follows the theme [Canonverse], includes the tropes [Fairy Tale AU] and [Write a villain as a good guy or a good guy as a villain], and has a central character focus on [Bellamy Blake]! When you vote, please be sure to take into consideration the USE of all these elements, because, as with all other Chopped events, the purpose is to select the authors who best utilize the requirements!

When the party’s over (Rated T) [Bellamy & Octavia]

Summary: Bellamy goes into the anomaly to save Octavia. What he finds, is a trail of bodies. {Or: a canonverse take on Hansel & Gretel}

don't be who you were (Rated T) [Bellamy & Diyoza]

Summary: Bellamy's forced to stay in the bunker, alone, for six years. Diyoza trapped alone on her ship. They find a way to help each other survive, because that's what they know how to do.

Straight On Until Morning (Rated G) [Bellamy & Kane]

Summary: Bellamy and his unruly band of Delinquents have been living life as they wish. Their days are filled with games and exploring while their nights are spent coordinating attacks against the dreaded Wanheda and her Mountain Men. It's all fun and games in a world where no one gets older.

But then a strange man appears one day and Marcus Kane provides a reality check to Bellamy that he's not prepared to accept.

Where is the path to Wonderland? (Rated T) [Bellamy x Clarke]

Summary: Separated from their friends in the Anomaly, Clarke and Bellamy find themselves lost in a world so different from their own.

The Sixth Bride (Rated M) [Bellamy x Roan]

Summary: For their wedding, Roan gifted him an antique skeleton key attached to a thin, leather cord. Rough, callous fingertips grazed the base of his neck as they secured the necklace in place. While his husband allowed him full reign of the tower, the key provided access to the only room he barred Bellamy from entering. He was never to set foot in the sole room on the highest floor. Into Roan's private reprieve from the world.

And to be fair, Bellamy respected Roan's right to privacy - for a while.

Gunning for Glory (Rated T) [Bellamy x Gina]

Summary: While on a routine mission for Kane, Bellamy comes across a mystery girl who points him towards a treasure trove that might prove useful for Arkadia, but danger lurks up every spiraling staircase. It may just be the distraction he needs, though, to get over Clarke leaving.

On the Ground and What Bellamy Found There (Rated G) [General]

Summary: Bellamy has a prophetic dream. An Alice in Wonderland AU.

to dream about a life (where you're the shining star) (Rated T) [Bellamy x Murphy]

Summary: Bellamy has been dreaming about going to the coalition's annual Camp Rock since he was a kid. The chance to escape his life and his step-father and spend his days travelling between clans and singing. This year, he finally has a chance to go--as a chef.

Murphy hated what came of Clarke's treaty with the Grounders, but even he knew it could've been worse. But that didn't mean he wanted to spend his time performing for the people who had kidnapped and tortured him. He could do it, though. He could sing at whatever the fuck Camp Rock was, and he could help pick whichever winner the Grounders wanted him to pick. He could play nice. That didn't mean he had to like it.

There’s Gonna Be a Party When the Wolf Comes Home (Rated T) [General]

Summary: “Dante?” she asks, her voice a mixture of confusion and surprise.

Bellamy straightens the nameplate on his desk, and the gold plaque reflects the dim fluorescent lights above him. He taps it twice, drawing her attention to the words “Dante Wallace” written in a fancy script.

“That’s what they call me.”

A Canon Divergent Fairy Tale AU staring Bellamy Blake

No Ordinary Apple (Rated T) [Bellamy & Josephine]

Summary: When Josephine awakens in Clarke Griffin's body, she has no reason to believe anything about her reincarnation is anything out of the ordinary.

Then she learns that Clarke was far from a willing host and meets Bellamy Blake.

She doesn't expect to become invested in their love story, and she certainly doesn't plan on risking her own like to make things right.

And yet, here she is. All in the name of true love.

Brother Knows Best (Rated G) [Bellamy & Octavia]

Summary: Octavia grew up in a cave, hidden from the world, with only her brother to care for her. He kept her safe, safe from a world where people like her, where nightbloods, were hunted and slaughtered.

But even with so much danger, she longs to see the world, so when a handsome stranger stumbles into their cave, she makes her escape to spend one night out under the stars.

But in just one night, she begins to wonder if everything she'd grown up believing was true after all.

seeds in silence (exploded in riot) (Rated T) [Bellamy & Clarke]

Summary: Seeds. Not the modified seeds Farm Station constantly churns out in unending batches. Genuine seeds. Earth seeds.

The kind of seeds that the scientists from Alpha will sell their souls for.

Doctor Griffin talks a lot about genetics and lost patterns, but Bellamy’s mind is a million miles away. He can get anything he wants for Octavia and his mom. He can make it so Octavia doesn’t have to live in hiding. He can bring the chancellor himself to his knees, if he’s careful enough.

i've got a heart in me (i swear) (Rating T) [Bellamy x Murphy]

Summary: Belonging was not a familiar word in the Book of John Murphy.

That was a fact that seemed grounded in concrete; what he wouldn't give to stumble upon a sledgehammer someday and be reunited with his bruised and feeble, but still beating, heart.

2199 Nights (Rated M) [Bellamy x Clarke]

Summary: Every day, the Commander Bellamy took a new wife and executed her the next morning, until one day his fleimkepa's daughter volunteered. She kept him entertained with tales of far-off places, sword fights, magic spells, a prince in disguise. . .

we'd up and fly (if there were wings for flying) (Rated G) [Bellamy x Clarke]

Summary: Bellamy and Wells are held captive and interrogated by the Grounders, and when he returns to Arkadia, Bellamy finds some things have changed.

The Storyteller (Rated T) [Bellamy x Clarke]

Summary: A heartbroken Commander, betrayed by her beloved, vows to slay each and every one of her future lovers after they’ve spent their first night together.

Bellamy Blake, the latest to be taken into the Commander of Death’s chambers, will try to save his life by weaving a succession of tales to the woman that lasts for one thousand and one nights.

How to Kill a Two-Headed Turkey (Rated T) [Bellamy & Octavia]

Summary: After everyone at camp collapses from a mysterious illness (thanks Murphy), Bellamy and Octavia are sent to hunt enough food for 100 sick teenagers. When they find themselves lost, far from camp, what else can they do but move forward? Thankfully, a kind woman took them in, but all is not as it seems. Anya's been waiting to meet these Skaikru...

simmer, simmer, simmer (Rated M) [Bellamy x Clarke]

Summary: When Sanctum falls to starvation, it is up to Bellamy and Clarke to find a solution. They aren't prepared for the horrors beyond the Sanctum barrier.

Chopped Madness AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Chopped_Madness

[vethyourhalflingmother]

tary & keeping in touch maybe?

Little Elf Girl,

How are you? How are the children? How’s Percival— still handsome and suave as ever, I hope.

I just received your last letter, even though it was dated three months ago. I swear, the postal service gets worse every year. The state of the government is getting shakier and shakier, if you want my honest opinion. Of course, I’m not saying anything treasonous, you know I would never— I quite like the Empire, for the most part, though they could do to focus more on mail and less on pissing off the Xhorhasians.

Enough of that dower talk, though. The hostel is doing well, and Maryanne’s finally starting to enjoy the work. Only took her a decade. The funny thing, Vex’ahlia, is that it seems like my sister’s as queer as I am. She’s taken a hell of a shine to one of the ladies who volunteers to teach the children that pass through. I asked her once, during an argument, if she would like it if I told her she had to marry a man, and she hit me over the head with a dishrag— rightfully so, I’m pretty sure I crossed a line. Even though she tried to get me to marry a woman once.

But, our squabbling aside, I wonder if that’s common for siblings? You’re bisexual, right? And Vax was, too? Your little sister’s seventeen or eighteen now, isn’t she? Ask her what she thinks of women. It’s for science. Ask Percival about his family, too, he never writes me back as quickly as you do. (It’d take me a year to get his answer at the postal service’s speed! But I’m not complaining anymore, I promise!)

Speaking of people’s romantic inclinations, I’m happy to report that it didn’t work out with that guy I was telling you about in my last letter. Why am I happy to report that? He was an absolute tool! Sure, he had a pretty face… a winning smile… great hair… abs I could’ve cut myself on… but his personality? Terrible. Absolutely abhorrent. I tried being shallow, I really did, but it was too much for me, if you can believe it. I’ve said it before, but it’s worth saying again: you’re lucky to have Percy. Obviously, he’s even luckier to have you, but as far as men go, he sets the bar high.

Oh, shit— I hate to cut this letter short, Vex, but I want to get it mailed out quickly so that it gets to you before Winter’s Crest, and my mother needs my help in the kitchen right now, so I’m afraid you’re going to have to want for my usual pages and pages of updates. I don’t know how you’ll ever survive, but you’re the strongest woman I know, so I have faith you’ll manage somehow.

Love you lots,

Taryon Darrington

~

Tary,

My husband’s as fine as ever, don’t you worry! My children and I are also quite well— it was kind of you to remember to include us in your pleasantries this time!

I’m sorry the postal service is so slow, darling. Percy and Keyleth are combining their expertise to create a quicker messaging system for those of us who are not as gifted in the arcane or the divine arts— and don’t you dare mention Pelor, Taryon, you know my blessing doesn’t include Sending. Anyway, they’re working on something, but with Keyleth leading her people and Percy raising five children? It’s going to take them a few years to finish, I’m afraid. Until then, we’re just going to have to settle with snail mail. We may get a good five, six letters sent between us before they’re done.

I’m glad to hear the path you’ve set for you family is doing well. I remember Maryanne’s protests. But she’s fallen for a teacher, eh? Just like her older brother? Maybe there is something running in the family there.

You remember Vax and I correctly, we both go rogue and ranger, as Scanlan would say. I once joked with Scanlan, I told him that’s why I’d started adding my brother’s rogue skills to my repertoire, and his dirty little eyes almost popped out of his head. Not the best joke I‘ve ever made, retrospectively. Poor phrasing. But it sure made him excited.

Interestingly enough, I’m almost certain that Velora is inclined toward women. When I’ve tried to discuss such matters with her, she’s been vague and cagey… but the way she looks at Cassandra, I think she may have a crush. It’s odd that she won’t talk to me about it, given that I can totally relate to swooning over a de Rolo (it’s a common phenomenon, is it not, Tary? perhaps you should come over and try to relate to her, hmm?), but I’m not about to force the point.

Percy says that all of his siblings were quote “flaming.” He didn’t elaborate much, but he did mention that his older brother used to get in trouble for sleeping around with the stable boys under their parents’ employ. Where have I heard a story like that before?

He also says to tell you that he and his two younger brothers are right-handed. I’m not sure what that means, and I’m not sure I want to, but he said you would understand it.

I’m sorry your date didn’t work out, but it’s good of you to look past all those positively tempting feature and tell yourself that you deserve better. Because you do deserve the absolute best, Taryon. (Also, you can do better than my husband— don’t tell him I said that, you’re right about us being lucky in love and all— but seriously, find a man that doesn’t deal with smoke demons— yes, this is me complaining about how smoke still rises off him when he gets too excited— it’s been fifteen fucking years, Tary, I swear to Pelor—)

I have to go parent now, I’m afraid, but I’ve attached a story that my oldest wrote for you. He’s becoming quite the little musician and storyteller, you’ll have to come over and see him at work sometime. Remember our door’s always open if you get an opportunity to travel across the pond! Please send more letters as soon as you can, I’d like to know how Doty and the Darrington Brigade are, and you know I always want to hear about you.

Love you lots,

Little Elf Girl, Vex’ahlia de Rolo

[samyelbanette]

CALL ME ZERO ZERO: Chapter Two

(ICYMI: the previous chapter is available here: https://yugiohnineinthesky.tumblr.com/post/183928336546/call-me-zero-zero-chapter-one ) 

The Battle Of Huê has been as bloody as Klaus expected. Corporal Donovan hadn’t made it out. Of course the North Vietnamese had shot the medic first. It made sense, from a tactical standpoint. But, it didn’t make it any easier, to deal with the man’s ghost haunting him ever since.

Klaus was on shore leave now, enjoying some R & R in a bar in Bangkok. The Mekhong whiskey in his hand, was the only reason he’d finally stopped seeing Donovan out of the corner of his eye.

He’d been a handsome lad, Klaus considered. Before the Viet Cong had blown his head off. Great skin, the same shade as his sister, Alison’s.

I miss her sometimes, he thought to himself as he downed another shot. But I’m willing to bet she doesn’t miss me. I wonder if any of them have even noticed I’m missing yet.

So distracted was he, by his own self-pity, that he almost didn’t notice the woman sitting at the bar stool next to him, until she tapped him on the shoulder.

“Mr. Hargreeves.”

“You again!” Klaus hissed, recognizing the woman instantly. “Zero.”

“That’s me,” the agent smiled, as if amused.

“What are you doing here?” Klaus demanded. “What is it that you want?”

“I already told you,” Zero replied calmly. “My mission is to retrieve….”

“The briefcase, right?” Klaus signed, slamming his empty glass back onto the table. “You know what? Fine.”

“Fine?” Zero repeated with a raised eyebrow.

Klaus fished a motel room key out of his pocket, and all but threw it at her. “I’m staying upstairs in Room 202,” Klaus explained. “The briefcase is hidden under my bed. Go get it. You can have it, just leave me alone.”

“That briefcase is your only ticket home, Mr. Hargreeves,” Zero reminded him, her dark eyes staring into his intensely. “If I take it now, you will be trapped in 1968 forever. You will never be able to go back home, to 2019. You will never see your family again.”

“Is that so bad?” Klaus shrugged, downing another shot. “What you don’t get, lady, is that my family’s a fucking mess. No…..they think I’m a mess. They think I’m a useless junkie. Here? My platoon looks at me like I’m actually worth something.”

“Mr. Katz, especially?” Zero guessed, her lip curling into a smirk.

“God, yes,” Klaus admitted. “He’s so good to me. He’s…..wait, why am I telling you all this?”

“Probably because you’re drunk,” Zero chuckled.

“But, why do you even care what my reasons are?” Klaus wondered. “Your boss sent you to get the briefcase back. I’m willing to give it to you. You take it back to your headquarters. I go bang my boyfriend. Everybody’s happy, right?”

“I’m afraid not,” Zero frowned.

“What do you mean?” Klaus whined. “Can’t you just leave, go get your coworker’s property, and let me enjoy my drink?”

“I cannot,” Zero insisted. “The Commission did not order me to retrieve the briefcase, Mr. Hargreeves. They ordered me to retrieve you.”

0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

Dave had been waiting in line to use the men’s restroom for what seemed like forever.

I didn’t even want to go to this bar tonight, he recalled. This was all Klaus’ idea.

They had been given such precious little time off to spend in Thailand. They would be back in Vietnam before they knew it.

But I guess I wouldn’t mind dancing with him for a while, Dave thought with a smile. He finally was able to do his business, and then he headed back towards the bar, hoping Klaus hadn’t downed all the shots he’d ordered before he left.

And then he saw her.

000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

Klaus had been taken aback by what Zero had said. For once, it took him a minute to think of a snarky comeback. It was on the tip of his tongue, when he suddenly heard a familiar voice begin to shout.

“What the hell, Klaus?” Dave demanded.

“What?” Klaus blinked, confused.

“Since when do you like girls, huh?” Dave asked angrily.

Actually, I like girls just as much as boys, Klaus thought. But, I’m pretty sure the term “pansexual” isn’t going to be coined for another thirty years….more importantly, what is he talking about?

“Oh, you mean her?” Klaus gestured towards Zero, who was still seated at the bar. “Dave, don’t be stupid, I wasn’t hitting on her….”

“I saw you give her your motel room key!” Dave cried angrily.

“That’s….” Shit, Klaus thought. “Look, I wasn’t inviting her to bed!”

“But clearly you know her,” Dave narrowed his eyes.

“Sort of?” Klaus shrugged. “I’ve only met her once before.”

“Who is she?!” Dave demanded. His jealousy was written all over his face.

Well, Klaus thought. I can’t exactly tell him that she’s a time-traveling secret agent, now can I?

“Call me Zero,” the source of all Klaus’ problems introduced herself, offering her hand, for Dave to shake.

He slapped it away. “I don’t care what your name is, hussy. But I say you two deserve each other!”

The blonde stomped angrily towards the bar’s exit.

“Dave, wait!” Klaus cried. But, the love of his life was already out the door.

“Look what you fucking did!” Klaus shouted at Zero, turning back to the bar.

But, just like she had in the forest near Huê, Zero seemed to have disappeared into thin air again.

0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

Klaus returned to the motel room, hoping Dave would be there. Instead, he found himself alone.

“Damnit!” he swore.

“He’ll come back,” a soft voice said consolingly.

“Ben?” Klaus recognized. “Where have you been hiding?”

The apparition shrugged. “Guess the whiskey’s wearing off, if you can see me again.”

“Guess so,” Klaus sighed. Suddenly, he heard a knock at the door.

“Maybe that’s him,” Ben said hopefully. “Maybe he’s calmed down by now, and came to apologize?”

Klaus ran to the door and flung it open. But instead of his beloved, he found Zero there, staring him down.

“You!” Klaus snapped. “My boyfriend thinks I’m cheating on him, because of you!”

“That was not my intention,” Zero said calmly.

“What if he breaks up with me now?’!” Klaus asked furiously.

“If he does,” Zero smirked, “then will you return to 2019, where you belong?”

“You did this on purpose,” Klaus accused.

“I didn’t know you were going to hand me your spare room key,” Zero reminded. “I still have it. I could have broken into the room. But, I knocked, to be polite. May I come in? Or would you like to continue screaming at me in the hallway?”

“Get in here, then,” Klaus gestured, still glaring. He slammed the door behind them.

“Mr. Hargreeves,” Zero began, “this era is not yours. Are you cognizant, that your presence here, is altering past events? You’re changing history.”

“So what?” Klaus shrugged. “A lot of bad things happened in history. If I can prevent them, isn’t that a good thing?”

“The Commission believes in maintaining the status quo,” Zero frowned. “Moreover, you have a role to play in 2019.”

“According to my brother, the world’s supposed to end in 2019,” Klaus recalled.

“Yes,” Zero admitted.

“Yeah, I’d rather skip that party, thanks. Rumor has it, that I die at the end of it.”

“You could just as easily die here,” Zero retorted. “Even if you and Mr. Katz survived this war, what kind of life is it that you think you would have? It’s not like you can marry him! Your love is illegal. And it will be for the next fourty-seven years.”

“Fuck you,” Klaus hissed. “Have you ever been in love, Agent Zero? Do you have any idea what it’s like, to care for someone so much, that you’re willing to face any hardship, as long as it’s by their side?”

Zero thought for a long moment.

“....I can’t say that I have,” she confessed, finally.

“She looks like she’s pushing 30, and she can’t say she’s ever fallen in love with someone?” Ben snickered.

“I had never truly loved someone, either,” Klaus said quietly. “Until I met Dave.”

“Mr. Hargreeves….”

“Stop calling me that,” Klaus interrupted. “Mr. Hargreeves is what everybody called my father.  I hate that bastard and his fuddy-duddy name. I’m Klaus.”

“Mr. Klaus….”

“Just Klaus. Jesus,” Klaus sighed. “And while we’re at it, enough with the codenames….I’m not going to keep calling you Zero. What’s your real name?”

“It’s not a code name,” Zero said quietly.

“Yeah, right,” Klaus rolled his eyes. “And my psycho kidnapper was totally born with the name Chacha.”

“I don’t have any other name to give you,” Zero insisted.

“Think about it,” Ben interjected. “For the first thirteen years of our lives, we didn’t have names, either. We were just Number Four and Number Six.”

“I guess it doesn’t matter,” Klaus decided. “You keep telling me I don’t belong in 1968….neither do you! Why is it ok for you to interfere, and not me, huh? What decade did your precious Commission recruit you from, anyway?”

“Not that it’s any of your business,” Zero mumbled, “But, I was born in 1989.”

“That’s the same year I was born in,” Klaus realized.

“So it is,” Zero smirked. “But that’s unimportant….I came here tonight, Klaus, to give you one last opportunity to return to 2019, of your own free will.”

“And what are you going to do if I say no?” Klaus asked, arms crossed.

“I will await orders from my supervisor,” Zero replied. “But, I predict that she will instruct me to take….drastic action, to sever your connection with this time period. And you will not like the result.”

“I’m not scared of you,” Klaus insisted. “And I’m not leaving. I will stay with the man I love until his dying day.”

“Have it your way, then,” Zero sighed, and showed herself out of the room. “I’ll be sure to include your exact words in my report.”

000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

It was 0300 hours when Klaus heard another knock at his door.

“If it’s that Commission chick again,” Ben grumbled, “don’t answer. You’ve said everything you needed to say to her.”

“Klaus?” uttered a soft voice from the other side. “It’s me, Dave. I’m sorry. Please let me in.”

Klaus opened the door immediately, and gathered Dave in his arms. “I’m sorry, too,” he whispered into his boyfriend’s ear.

“If you say you weren’t interested in that woman….then, I believe you,” Dave decided, staring into Klaus’ green eyes. “Will you forgive me for not trusting you?”

“Of course,” Klaus said softly. “Just come to bed, babe. Don’t worry about it.”

There’s still so much I haven’t told you, Klaus thought to himself. Where I came from. What I can do. I’m a liar who doesn’t deserve you. But, please, please, stay with me.

0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

A silent observer witnessed the embrace in the hallway, before returning, unnoticed, to her own motel room.

Sitting in the ice bucket, she found a capsule, containing a note. Zero unfurled the paper and read the words, that she knew all along The Handler would write:

New Orders:

Terminate David Katz.

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

CSUAVS PRT 49 half

Veronica was standing guard in front of Kre'el's room, halting the progress of their mission to visit the woman with minimal fuss made. They'd darted though the palace, as if on a secret mission. With Krolia wanting to speak with him, his mother was likely to pop out of nowhere and spoil their plans. Doubling back, it was a slight trek to find a vent opening they could both reach. A mural decision that had been made with a roll of Lance's eyes and a groan on Keith's behalf at the sight of a grumpy looking Veronica. If he'd had his comms, he could have sent Acxa to distract her but they'd left their comms behind to prevent being interrupted. The half-Galra supposed he would have to apologise to Veronica at some point, but that point wasn't until she apologised to Lance for treating him simply as her little brother.

 Unhooking the vent cover, Keith dropped down first, nearly taking out the visitors chair as he lost his balance when his eyes met Kre'el's. This plan of theirs seeming somewhat stupider now they'd reached their end goal... and a whole lot stupider when Lance dropped the block of chocolate they'd brought with him down on his head. Mentally glaring at his husband, Keith leapt down off the chair to retrieve the chocolate as Lance lowered himself down, somehow ending up on his arse instead of standing. In her bed, Kre'el gave a coughing laugh. Lance looking to her with too much interest. Resisting the urge to growl, Keith the the chocolate at Lance, before stalking to lean against the back of the visitors chair, attempting to glare her into shutting up until Lance was ready to talk. Kre'el knew exactly what she was doing, using her left hand to lift her oxygen mask off to sit under her chin.

 "You came back?"

Nodding, Lance was tense

"I had to. We haven't finished talking"

"I see you brought Keith"

"He's staying"

"He's handsome... If I were three hundred years younger..."

Then what? That was plain creepy. Plus... she had nothing he was interested in

"He is right here. Lance had questions, and you're going to give him answers while no one is watch us"

Kre'el ignored him

"What do you want to know? I thought I explained before"

Lance took a breath as he started to fiddle with the chocolate wrapper

"I want to know about his men. Klearo's men. I want to know what they sent you. You said he was to observe and report to you... did he... did he film me?"

Kre'el moved her left hand towards Lance, leaving the mask down under her chin. She barely looked alive, let alone like the woman that had tried to kidnap them

"Lance, I'm not sure that will change anything... They're dead. Taken care of after Klearo abused the power we bestowed upon him... I couldn't let them do it again"

"So he did... Why? What happened to the film?"

Breaking off the chocolate, Lance's hands were shaking

"I erased files... after you agreed to help kill Klearo. The data he provided was next to useless. You're pain threshold was higher than expected, as was your healing time. The drugs processed through your system too fast to be effective, only serving to tell us that it wasn't a suitable form of sedation. Other than your marks and high quintessence, there was nothing particularly fascinating until we knew human males weren't biologically designed to carry young... Klearo... he got what he deserved. I never imagined he'd take things that far or that way simply because you bruised his ego"

Passing Kre'el a piece of chocolate, the Altean took it in confusion

"It's chocolate. It's good..."

"Why?"

"Why are you giving this to me? You should hate me, like your partner does"

"Honestly. I want to hate you. I want to shake you and yell at you, and throw you out the nearest airlock. I want to demand answers to all the questions I have... but when I look at you... I can't... I still see her... Those god awful coffees... Sitting at the bar while you complained about you boss... but I guess he was a friend after all. Kre'el, what happened to Helo? Did you... did you kill him? Did any of them survive?"

Gasping, Kre'el coughed as she shook her head

"That wasn't me. Not personally. It was... on behalf of Erathus, at the outpost. He was getting to close to our operation. Looking into the missing ships... Pollarck could only do so much in his position... I was told he was apprehended by your Earth friends. I never wanted him to die... I wish we could go back to those days, but it was always going to end like this..."

 How Lance could sit there nodding, Keith didn't know. Helo was a friend to both of them. Someone else who didn't need to die

"And his body?"

"Parts... the ones with low quintessence... they served so we could live"

Keith drew his brow in disgust. Lance was acting too calm. As if he was simply visiting a friend, not a mass murdering bitch. He was barely holding his tongue. His teeth hurting from how hard he was gritting them. Lance needed this and so far had kept his temper, but he didn't know if that was better or worse

"What do you mean?"

Placing the chocolate in her mouth, Kre'el sighed around the piece

"This is good"

Lance wasn't buying it, his voice firm

"Kre'el, what do you mean they served so you could live? They served the ship? Then why did they need to be in pieces?"

"Lift the blankets... I can't..."

 Lance went to move as Kre'el said, Keith stopping him by placing both hands on his shoulders and pushing him down. There was no way Kre'el have a weapon on her, but Keith wasn't chancing Lance's health

"I'll do it"

Stepping around the visitors chair, Keith was slightly rough as he pulled the blankets back to expose the hospital gown Kre'el was wearing, not sure what he was supposed to be seeing

"Break the tab on the side, and pull it back. We're all adults here"

There was no tab, just the string that tied at the back. Taking the thin fabric in his hands it snapped with ease. With her arm in the left sleeve, Keith gave up and tore the fabric, revealing a sunken stomach littered with thick scars. Eyeing it in revolt, Keith backed away, gathering Lance against him as his boyfriend said nothing

"Our bodies are breaking down... you saw my arm... we... wanted to live... We weren't the only ones trying to extend our lives..."

"That doesn't make any of this right. You fucking let them hurt him. You could have confessed to him. You could have come to us! You killed thousands of people... How many lives have you destroyed?! Where are the rest of you? You said something about a new home. Where?! How do we get there? How many of you are still there?"

"Keith, just... just stop. Please..."

Reaching out, Lance pulled the blankets back as Kre'el tried to help. She could freeze for all he cared

"She broke... they broke you. How can you just sit there? What happened to all your questions? What happened to you needing these answers?"

Lance shot him a glare, smoothing out the piece of blanket near Kre'el's hand. His voice was soft, and far too understanding

"Because they just wanted to live... We all want to live... Kre'el, is there another planet? Another home base now that the outpost and ship are gone?"

"Yes... a world... we tried to make our own. I don't know if any more will live... not without the ship..."

"How do we get there?"

"It's all on the ship... the... the pass code is "hope"... you... have an Altean... don't let them use the pods..."

With Kre'el running out of breath, Lance broke his hold completely to lift the mask back onto her face. Telling them to go back to the ship was a cop out, in his opinion. Kre'el could be stringing them along. Lance feared having been filmed, and she'd confirmed it.

 A few doboshes of awkward silence past as Kre'el regained control of her breathing. Lance was biting his lip as he stared at his former friend. It didn't look good for Kre'el. It was like death was in the air

"Lance, I think you should ask any other questions you have"

Looking up to him, Lance looked back to Kre'el. Just because Lance had accepted things, didn't mean Keith was ready to jump into the same boat. Someone had to stay objective... Which he definitely wasn't being... but wouldn't admit. Taking Kre'el's hand in his was the last straw for Keith. Walking over to the wall, he leaned back against it. If Lance was going to be an idiot, he could get himself out of whatever she did to him

"You don't have to talk... just nod or shake your head. Is everyone with that tattoo gone? From Klearo's crew?"

Kre'el nodded

"And there's more of you out there? That could be dying without the ship?"

Kre'el nodded again

"And if we unlock the ship, we'll be able to access the records? Including that data you took on Keith and I?"

Nodding again, Kre'el was letting one rattling breath after another

"And us... our friendship. You regretted what was done? But you were still desperate to survive?"

Pulling off her mask, Kre'el coughed

"I'm sorry... I wanted you dead... I wanted... if you had a child... I wanted... I wanted... why we had to die... why she had to die... didn't... want you to die... wanted to live"

 The machine monitoring Kre'el's heart started to beep louder, her hand grasping Lance's harder as she wheezed, trying to talk of her daughter to his boyfriend. Rising, Lance placed her hand on forehead

"Babe... should I get Veronica?"

"She's dying"

"So I should get Veronica?"

The beeping was getting louder, Veronica was sure to be in the room any tick as it was. As Kre'el started to flatline, Lance pointed to the door while keeping his eyes on Kre'el

"No... Let her go. If they come back in here, they're only going to revive her over and over until her body fails completely. If we do that, we're no better than they were. Let her rest... Que Dios te lleve a su abrazo amoroso y tenga piedad de tu alma. Que descanses en paz en los brazos de tu hija, en el paraíso que es el cielo... Sleep and when you wake, might your daughter be there to accept you with open arms"

"Babe?"

"It's ok. Kre'el, it's ok to let go. I forgive you..."

 As the door to Kre'el's room opened, Veronica glared at the pair of them

"What are you doing in here? Lance, step away from the prisoner"

"She's dead V. It's time to let her go"

"She holds important information"

"Her body is failing. Bringing her back is too cruel"

"I can't simply look the other way. Neither of you are supposed to be in here unsupervised"

"God. Put the rules aside. She was a mother and she wanted to save her people. Let her pass in peace. Let her rest"

"You don't have the authority to make that decision"

"As the person she hurt most here, I say I do"

"You're not..."

Pushing off the wall with his foot, Keith stood between Lance and Kre'el. Veronica might have a job to do,

"Call Shiro and ask him. He'll agree with Lance"

"Keith, you..."

Behind them, Kre'el continued to flatline, Veronica pushing Keith out the way, before stopping just shy of Lance

"She's gone already V. Let her rest with her daughter"

"She was valuable"

"She was a person. A really fucking misguided person. If Honerva could find rest and redemption, so can she"

"You can't make decisions like this"

"I make decisions like this all the time. I've lost team members and friends, V. If mami can accept what I do, so can you. You never would have had access to her at all, or to her ship without us. Now it's time she rests..."

 Placing down Kre'el's hand, Lance moved past Veronica, Keith moving to catch his boyfriend in his arms before he escape

"Babe?"

"I'm ok... Not ok, but... I knew it was coming"

"What do you need?"

"Can we go back to the Telula? I need my holopad..."

What did he need his holopad for? Kre'el has just died, and Keith's head was still full of questions. Shiro probably wouldn't be too happy that all they got was the code for the prison ship's systems was "hope". Pidge had probably already hacked it, or one of his other officers. They should have kept Kre'el in a pod longer. Even if they'd only taken her out the morning she was being transferred, it'd have given them more time for Lance to talk to her

"Babe, I think you're in shock"

"I want to write everything down before I forget it... We need to get to that planet to search for any survivors"

He should have seen the one coming from a mile away. There was no way Keith was agreeing to them checking it out, but a panic attack or an argument in front of Veronica wouldn't end well for Lance

"Ok. Let's get everything written down and talk to Shiro?"

"And Coran. Coran knows what "hope" is in Altean. It's probably not been the same word as "hope". Shit. Shiro's not going to be happy"

"Shiro said he was happy with what you got from her. We should get out of the way"

 With Kre'el flatlining and Veronica not yelling directions at medical staff, the staff filtering in to deal with her body were in no rush. Taking Lance out the the room, Lance looked back as Keith tugged him on

"What's going on?"

"I forgot the chocolate... do you think she liked it?"

For the second time that day, shock was starting to set in, Lance stopping again to stare back at Kre'el's room. Chocolate wasn't a priority, and Keith had given Lance's mother more than enough for the stockpile in his possession. Being Lance's mother, she'd wanted to pay for it all, but understood when Keith explained he wanted to pay as it was a personal gift and not just a want.

"Yeah. I'm sure she did"

"Maybe I should have given her more?"

"You saw how sick she was, babe. You made her happy for a few moments"

"Do you think she liked it?"

Wrapping his arm around Lance's waist, Keith kept guiding him away from the room. There was nothing that could done for Kre'el now

"Babe, you just asked me that"

"Oh... Oh. I want to go to the Telula..."

"That's where we're going"

"Ok. I hope she finds peace"

"I'm sure she will. What was it you said to her in Spanish?"

"Oh... um... just a prayer. I couldn't think of a bible verse that fitted for her... so I said a prayer. I think... I hope she's at peace with her daughter... What she must have gone through... Veronica's going to be pissed"

"That's her problem, not yours. You just lost a friend"

"I know... I feel like I should be crying, but I'm not"

"It hasn't sunk in yet"

"Yeah... maybe..."

Shoving his hands in his pocket, Lance didn't return the hold. His feet still heavy as slow, even once Kre'el's room had long disappeared behind them.

    *

By the time they reached the Telula, Lance was walking taller. The glint in his eyes not his soft boyfriend's but that of when Lance donned the mask of Leandro. Heading on board, Shiro was waiting for them in the cargo bay, the man poised to attack them with a hug, only to stop and raise an eyebrow at Lance's lack of tears. Giving a slight jerk of his head, Shiro silently asked him if Lance was alright. There was no way to silently reply to that. Keith wasn't even sure he had the words to vocalise a reply

"Lance?"

Blinking at Shiro, Lance then out a weary sigh

"She passed. I'm sorry. I couldn't let them bring her back again. Not after everything. Keith needs to talk to you. Do you know where Coran is?"

"The others are in the medbay. Pidge wanted in on the programs Coran was gifting Daehra with. I can go get him..."

"No. No, it's ok. Thanks. I'm just going to borrow him for bit. Keith, why don't you take Shiro down to your old room for some privacy, I'm going to head up to the bridge"

Keith wasn't sure what he was meant to talk to Shiro about. He was more worried for Lance. Even if he was seeking out Coran, Keith still wanted to be there for him... It stung... and the half-Galra would be lying if he didn't say he was confused as to what he was supposed to be feeling. The feelings of anger and disgust were morphing into something else... Maybe he did need to talk to Shiro? Was it in his scent? Is that what made Lance think it was better he talk to Coran instead of him?

"Ok, babe... I'm here if you need to talk"

"I know. Just gotta do this first"

That was a whole lot of nothing explained. Lance said he wanted to write things down... So how did Coran work into that? Still in search of something to hug, Shiro slung his arm over Keith's shoulder

"Take as long as you need. Keith can fill me in"

Lance's only reply was to give a nod before striding off ahead of them

"Is he ok?"

"I don't know, Shiro. I really don't know"

"Ok, kiddo. How about you and me go have this talk?"

  It looked to Keith like in his absence his room had been turned into a storage room for Lance. The bed was made, but was made with all of his spare blankets. The pile so thick that it was almost impossible to roll into a pile then on to the floor. He stupid instincts didn't want other people's scents on things, despite another's scent clearly being on their blankets. He didn't know the scent, it was soft like faded fabric softener. Something floral at a guess. Sitting on the edge of be bed, Shiro sat down next to him. His one armed hug moving from his shoulders to around his waist, having been broken to make space for them. Burying his face in his hands, Keith rubbed at his eyes, nudging softly Shiro prompted

"Veronica called ahead"

"I figured she would. She wanted to revive Kre'el when she flatlined. Lance wanted to let her pass"

"Did she talk? I didn't expect you two to head back to her so soon"

"I didn't either. But the first thing that idiot wanted was to finish talking to her"

"Did he get the answers he needed?"

 Keith let out a bitter laugh. That was the question of the varga. Did he?

"He said he forgave her"

"And you don't?"

"I don't know. It was easier to hate her before I knew everything else. She fucked him up so much. He was suicidal, throwing himself headfirst into all his missions because he didn't care if he died. He's been popping god only knows what, shooting up the yellow shit they got him addicted to. Picking fights with everyone. Hunting down dangerous criminals. He only escaped them the first time by killing everyone, then he went right back in there and did the same to Klearo... and now he finds out the sick fucks filmed the whole thing. Kre'el said she deleted it, and he believes her. He believes her because  he... he still sees his friend in her. I don't know what to do Shiro..."

 Shiro gathered him up against him as tears started to well in Keith's eyes

"It sounds like you've been there for Lance, but he hasn't really been there for you"

What no?

"What do you mean?"

"That was all about Lance, but how do you feel about Kre'el's death?"

"I don't know. I said I don't know. Why would you say that about Lance?"

"That came out wrong. You sound exhausted, and you've only just reunited. Neither of you have stopped since you came back together. Naps and sleeping don't count"

"It's... complicated. He's good to me. I promise..."

"Keith..."

"He is. He's there. He listens to me most of the... some of the time. It's been hard to get him through things, but it's also brought up a lot of things I haven't got through either... and he helps with that. I still have nightmares... and I understand things differently to how I did. I didn't understand how people could rely on something so much... like the drugs, but now I realise you were my drug. I was relying on you so heavily I went crazy when I lost your support. It wasn't healthy... I mean, if you went missing now, I'd hunt your arse down and kick you back to Curtis. But I understand why those kids couldn't just stop... and... When he went back, he asked me to come with him. For us. He wants to put this behind him for us... but now we've found out there's this whole other planet that might be filled with dead aliens... and I just know he's going to want to go"

"Did she give you coordinates?"

"No she said they were on the ship. The password is "hope" in Altean. She mentioned some other alien called Pollarck? I have no idea who he is... I don't think I can forgive her like Lance did..."

"You don't have to forgive her. You know what happened now"

"I don't know if I do. I feel like I still have questions, but I have no idea what they are. Lance said he had questions, and I don't know if he asked them all or gave up because she was so close to death"

"That's a talk you're going to have to with him"

"I know, but he's swapped into work mode now. He said he wanted to write everything down... I'm worried Shiro. They took a heap of personal data from us on that outpost. I'm worried that when the technicians are looking through the ship's data, they're going to find everything out. He was already scared that they had filmed him, then she went and confirmed it, only to say it was gone. But what if it's not? What if it's still on system? What if it gets out?"

"It won't get out. The ship is on lockdown. We have it under surveillance in case the rest of her network come for it"

[nanaswhispers]

Wandering Souls

Day 1 KLAROLINEAUWEEK : Fusions & Crossovers

OUTLANDER AU.

K&c don’t interact with Claire and Jamie. They’re also not really Claire and Jamie, but there are some similitudes with a strong Klaroline twist. Also, Randalls became Lockwoods. Not really Outlander canon either, just Outlander Universe.

Angst. Violence. Language. 

Although it was originally intended as a one-shot, and I ended it in a way so that it can still be read as that, I’m feeling inspired, and like it needs a continuation, so, if you like it, stay tuned for a second part! After Klarolineauweek ends most probably.

PART 2 - PART 3

Enjoy !

 « Eerie, isn’t it ? » a distinctly male voice abruptly brought her out of her contemplation.

Caroline threw a quick glance towards the man walking up to her, then looked back down, from her perch on the balcony, at the dancing, joyous pairs moving through the castle’s Great Room, the fires in the various hearths scattered in all the corners of the space to combat the wet cold winter seemingly never ending here in the Highlands, the unfamiliar smells of food and beverages that wouldn’t even be remembered centuries from now, the swirls of the tent-like skirts women were forced to wear below the excruciating tightness of their corsets, and the swirls of the kilts around the men’s knees proudly displaying the loyalty to their clan, their allegiance to their Laird.

And, she supposed, it really was eerie. Although, she guessed the man now standing next to her didn’t find it so for the same reasons she did. At least not from her perspective as a 26 years old woman from the 21st century that suddenly traveled through time and landed in the 18th century, right in the middle of Scotland.

So, she only nodded, not willing to show or say to much.

Even if she hadn't quickly glanced back when he interrupted her musings, his voice would have betrayed his identity immediately. Such a raspy, smooth, velvet was recognizable amongst thousands, but, it was his accent, so different from everyone else’s around here that truly differentiated him from the other people in Castle Leoch.

She had heard he was a traveler, and had been a warrior for some Lord in another land some time ago, his prowess with a sword was rumored to be extraordinary. (Clearly, only nice terms to say sell-sword, she scoffed, internally.)

She supposed he had his reasons as to why he divulged no details about his past. (She couldn't really hold that against him since she hadn't really been that forthcoming herself…)

Perhaps he had done things that would take away the good grace the Mackenzies had towards him?

Maybe it was shame that ate him up from the inside? (Although Klaus didn't strike her as one that would care about such unprofitable and unusable emotions…)

Or, most probably, his past was too painful, still too raw to share… she understood that.

Those were different times, where people didn’t always have the luxury of circumstances or even the rights to choose a path for themselves. Sometimes, to survive, one must do things they didn’t like. Things they wished to never remember again.

Objectively, she had known in a vague sort of way, that all those were indisputable facts. That free will and freedom were what dreams were made off. However she had never truly comprehended it, grasped the whole spectrum of that fact, understood how it affected people to be choice-less, powerless, voice-less, not until mere months ago. Now, she did. Unfortunately.

Caroline looked back at him again. Observed him standing quite rigidly, especially compared to his usual falsely laid-back attitude. Watched as he took notice of every nook, cranny, and corner present in the Great Room, never letting down his guard. His already paranoid streak seemingly accrued by the tension right before the battle that will take place only hours from now.

When she met him initially, his aura of violence and aloofness perturbed her. Frustrated her. Unbalanced her. She wasn't equipped to deal with men who dealt everyday with violence and non-ending wars, as real individuals, with their own set of traumas and real experiences. People who lived through the consequences of spilled blood. They were just a story, something passed almost as anecdotes when political machinations and tales of bloody battlefields were taught in class as more important than the measly life of a no-name Scot, until they stood in front of her, threatening her, thinking she was a spy for the English that persecuted them.

Now, with hindsight and experience on her mind, she guessed his attitude had its benefits. Even though he was capable of angering her like no one before in her life (both time frames included), he was also the one that protected her like nobody ever did before, even at his own expense.

She would remember until her last breaths those wretched moments when he took a hit, or a bullet in her stead. When he defended her honor by sullying his. When he sacrificed his comfort so that she could feel better. And he did it without ever bragging, which was actually quite surprising and commendable for someone with such a propensity for teasing and showing off.

Klaus had sometimes been such an antagonistic bastard during her three months in this time that she in some stances (after an arduous battle with herself) could force her mind to forget how handsome and charming he was. Yet, here, standing next to her, with an indescribable expression stretched on his fair and strong features, her breath was taken away.

The warmth exuding from his arm to hers was much more effective than the fires in chasing away the chill from her bones, she noted absently.

This time, when his voice interrupted her from her musings, about how hot he was, she was grateful. She couldn’t allow herself to fantasize about men she didn’t plan on seeing for much longer. She had to get back to Tyler. Her, maybe not as sweet nor devoted as she would like, husband of two years, waiting for her, generations away. So she only focused on his words and not on the divine mouth uttering them.

“I find it quite eerie to see such joy on their faces. They know that the dawn will bring nothing good, that most of them could be dead come sundown. They know that Lockwood and his brutish British goons are better funded, better equipped, and have higher numbers. And yet, here are those Highlanders, dancing, laughing, drinking and fucking… Is that the most stupid or most intelligent thing on this world, I wonder?”

She pondered his question a few moments. Never truly finding a concrete answer but still giving away her piece of mind.

“I don’t really know, to be perfectly honest with you… It is stupid. They are drinking themselves to a stupor they won’t really exit out of even on the battlefield; they are using all the energy they could save for the fight by fucking women they wouldn’t even acknowledge any other day; they are burning up every resource they have that could feed their people in the coming months…”

(She hushed the words “if survival is theirs” for both their sakes.)

“And yet, there is something undeniably awe-inspiring and truly…beautiful, seeing them like this, focusing only on the present time, not worrying about the events of the morrow, enjoying everything about living at least one last night… One can only envy such lust for life.”

Klaus looked at her in silence, contemplating her (and her words), a small smile etched on his sinful lips, as if he was amused by the rhetoric of her answer, or as if he was pleased she shared her mind so openly with him after weeks of avoiding real conversations with him, instead giving back only defensive, short and concise words.

They stood side to side, in silence for a long while, pondering the events to come, the forced joy and drunkenness being displayed in front of their eyes, as if a scene from a historical action movie. Appreciating each other's warmth, knowing fully well it may be the last time they ever could. Quietly, secretly, throwing quick glances that when caught would case an embarrassed smile to bloom on their otherwise stony faces.

As per usual, it was Klaus that breached through the wall of silence between them.

“I, am no Scot, my fair lady, and I do not plan on giving away the fight before it has even begun. I intend to broaden significantly my list of slain English bastards. Therefore, I must bid you a good night and take leave to retire to my own chambers. (Where you are always welcome if you so wish)”

He smirked a little, by habit, but the usual heat and innuendo were not present this time.

“As my people say Wake early if you want another man’s life or land. No lamb for the lazy wolf. No battles won in bed… If I come back from the battlefield tomorrow, it will be my pleasure to see those beautiful eyes again my lady Caroline. If not, it was my greatest pleasure to have gazed upon such beauty. May your journey be easy and prosperous.”

Watching his form slowly inserting itself into the crowd made of rowdy highlanders, Caroline hoped with everything she had in her that those parting words would be useless and that his famed prowess with a sword was as true as it was told to be.

Caroline went to bed shortly after. But sleep wasn’t destined for her.

His parting words resonated in her. Ringed something distant in her mind. A memory she couldn't quite grasp, of a knowledge she felt even into her bones was important. Something that would help her unravel the mystery that was Klaus.

Well, the saying of “his people” did that. The others, the last, more personal ones, she didn't want to think about. (She failed. It may or may not have provoked tingling, fire and constricting of the heart. Caroline wouldn't even admit it under duress.)

She had spent the entire night fretting over all the possibilities the morrow would bring. Contemplated each person’s probability to die on that clearing. Admonished herself for even wishing that some would make it back.

She knew the Scots would lose. She knew it was the beginning of the end for the Highland culture and way of life. She knew that in the times to come, even speaking one’s mother tongue could get yours to be separated from the rest of your mouth. She knew it was the landmark for oppression.

She had gone to fucking Scotland, visited and observed every ruin, studied every book and stood upon Craigh Na Dun, because her entire career as an anthropologist would depend on how she started it, would depend on her thesis about the history and culture of these lands. The way people had lived and developed in a region not known for its welcoming nature.

And yet, she still hoped against hope.

So, she mourned for all the lives that would be lost. She cried for all the lives that wouldn’t be, but will live under torture and agony. She wept for all the women left behind waiting for any news that their loved ones survived, for the children that will become orphans in the coming hours.

Just before dawn and its daunting sun rays came, she heard the stirring of horses led to the gates of the castle. The bustle of men hurrying for armors, swords, food.

Caroline stood up, engulfed herself into her giant woolen shawl looking for every scrap of warmth and comfort she could find, and went hesitatingly to the small window in her room. Watched the heaviness slowly etch itself into each pair of shoulders. Observed them trying to joke and laugh as they usually would no matter the context, but without their hearts in it. As if they knew, that this time it would be something else entirely.

Her eyes strayed by themselves on the imposing figure Klaus presented, standing stoically against the archway, waiting for the signal to go. She felt his eyes rest on her too, and without thinking, her hand rose, and he nodded instead.

She watched, paradoxically unaware and simultaneously much too cognizant of the time trickling by. The final moments coming too fast, but the preparations for it endless.

“May we meet again” she whispered, almost unknowingly, as she watched them leave.

Seconds, minutes hours meshed together, passed away without anyone noticing. Time stretched itself into a continuous agony of not knowing. The haze of waiting seemed unending.

And yet, when the main door of the castle caved under the might of His Majesty's troops, every child, woman, elder that had been huddled together in the Great Room as they waited, jumped as if broken out of a short nap.

Screams and wails, of despair and realization that they had lost, breaking into a symphony of pain and misery.

Their people were doomed. Their families broken. Their loved ones most probably lying amidst bowels, mud and piss, their blood fertilizing the soil they had fought for until their last breaths.

Surrounded by the cacophony of cries, grunts and orders to knee in front of His Majesty's power, Caroline stood rigid, devoid of any expression, numb.

Some would perhaps say she didn't feel affected by the outcome of the battle, that these weren't her people, that she had only been an unsolicited guest in this time and in this clan. Others would simply rationalize that her forehand knowledge of the loss had prepared her sufficiently to not break in front of the menacing soldiers.

However, Caroline knew that neither of these options were right.

She wasn't catatonic, but her mind had stopped. The blow of the truth too hard, to powerful to digest immediately. She would do what she did best in situations where everyone succumbed. She would hold the ship and bear stoically every hit, up until the moment when she would relax and everything would just engulf her. It was okay, she would handle it when the time comes, as she always did.

For now, she had to be strong.

Especially since the man bearing the same name and features her husband had centuries from now, sauntered proud as a peacock in the Great Room. Laughing at the misery etched onto the faces of every Scot present. Enjoying the defeat creeping into their eyes. Thrilled to see the proud people that defied him at every turn kneel weakly in front of his power.

Caroline would not kneel. So he sent two of his apes at her.

One soldier of his Majesty dead, lying in a pool of his own blood at her feet, the other holding his side while grabbing her hair at the same time, holding her in place, she watched as Theodore Lockwood, her husband’s ancestor, and doppelganger, the King's most infamous Lieutenant, walked proudly towards her.

She glowered at the man that tried to rape her, that tortured her, that gave her the status of criminal.

He came to her, as closely as possible, smirked as he towered over her now that she was kneeling against her will at his feet, and replaced the hand in her hair with his own mighty grip.

Her attention went for a small moment to the man standing behind her, and the knife she had used to kill his compatriot moments away that he now pushed relentlessly against her spine. Dumb rookie mistake Caroline.

Suddenly, she felt her head move under the force of his pull, her hair being torn out of her scalp. She felt him rubbing his groin on her entire face, particularly her mouth, while holding her still.

While Tyler's main attribute and reason as to why they had tried so hard for so long to make it work, was his anatomy and their incredible alchemy in bed, the mere thought of being in contact with her husband's cock elder twin awoke in her a repulsion she didn't even know she could feel.

And the smells certainly did not help: his putrid penis, the piss he didn't wipe away, and the aromas of death and blood from the field hit her all at once. The repulsion she felt needed a physical outlet. She couldn't stop the gag in her throat, and managed barely to contain the vomit that wanted to get out of her lips.

He laughed at her struggling and as he heard the present people objecting but not nearly loud enough to count as worthy protestation. Still shaken with their grief and pain and helplessness, they couldn't put up a real fight.

He enjoyed seeing mothers shielding the eyes of the young and elders being drawn to tears as they witnessed the glorious spectacle he gave them.

He looked back down at her, obviously thrilled and satisfied with his stage. She felt him get even harder against her lips. Her stomach went up to her throat again.

“If memory serves me well, and trust me, I never forget any slight, you had previously sworn that you would never kneel to, I quote, “a scumbag” like me… Hmm, I wonder what you are doing right now? Not that proud anymore, Miss Forbes, are we?”

She only glared. Her lips remained stubbornly sealed, she would not give him the satisfaction of rising to the bait, nor would she give him the opportunity to shove that gross bulge in her mouth… even if the perspective of biting that particular appendage to blood was thrilling.

His victorious grin changed to a glower as her eyes remained without tears and ever challenging.

“Don't expect your protector to come help save the day as usual either, I saw him lying motionless surrounded by a pile of shit next to another one of your little band of criminals. I must admit, it was quite the pleasuring sight, quite arousing too, pity I had to come here so fast, I would have enjoyed tremendously finally fucking that dirty asshole that deserved much needed punishment, defiling his body and showing that even in death I could make him suffer... Mmmh, quite the waste really. I'm only sorry it wasn't me that ended his miserable worthless life.” he taunted.

Anger shone in her eyes even amidst the pain. Disgust written plainly on her features.

And as she felt herself succumb a little to despair and pain as it hit her in the chest, for reasons she had never truly admitted to her herself until then, she forced herself in a state of unbending steel. One of coldness reining in the darkness growing at the prospect of never seeing Klaus again. She could not afford to lose her composure and resistance right now. Otherwise he would achieve his goal of putting her down.

It angered him, clearly.

She felt him distance his breeches covered cock away from her face, and just as she exhaled, glad to be out of contact with that thing, with the tight grip he had on her hair, he abruptly threw her down to the worn, gray, dirty stone of the ground.

The knife of the unaware soldier lacerated her deeply into her left side. Pain erupted in her body at once. Her blood ran profusely from her forehead where her skull hit the floor with force, forming around her head a halo of red.

Still, even battered and bloody, Caroline refused to let him win. So she grasped every ounce of force present in her and slowly lifted herself up on her hands, then knees, and lastly feet. She pressed a hand on her wound, trying to slow the flow of blood oozing out of her chest.

During the entire, without a doubt long process of her getting to her feet, filled with moans and grunts of pain, he watched as one might study sadistically a weaker animal slowly get devoured by a mightier predator.

In that exact moment, as she saw the gleeful triumph he regarded her with, Caroline swore she would kill him. She promised it to herself.

Whatever she had to do to reach her goal, she would. However much time she had to stay in this timeline in order to rid the world of scum like him, she would spend it, without even a consideration to the man with the same voice, the same face and the same initials as him waiting for her.

She would kill. She would avenge all the people that suffered or died because of him. She would kill him for Klaus, so that his death wouldn't be vain. 

She would end his life just as he ended every possible future she could have had with him, every opportunity that would never happen where she would have finally come to realize how much Klaus meant. She would end him because he ended her.

And he will suffer, that she swore.

[justnotcricket]

Match Report: 25/11/17 WASTCA One-Day Div 2

Fremantle (8/241) def Subi Marist (9/163)

Mann Oval is a cricket ground in miniature. A tiny oval, a small man’s oval. An oval for small men… and for some, this was the first homecoming since the horrific ‘Mann Oval Massacre’…

When I arrived at the venue the last surviving veterans were at the Mosman Park Bowling Club, emotional wounds still so raw as to suggest they were drinking to forget…

Legend has it, in the first meeting between the recently estranged Fremantle Mosman Park One Day team and it’s previous fraternal masters, Sub Marist, tensions were at an all time high.

The rebellious FMPCC were looking to make a point of their desertion, and SMCC still hurt and reeling from the betrayal of their brothers, were determined to see them put in their place.

With plenty of pregame banter, the Pirates won the toss, elected to bat, and after all manner of failure, proceeded to shuffle like they had ne’er shuffled before. Subi’s opening bowler took 4 wickets and they were all out for 71.

It must have been mortifying.

Matty Angus, then captain of Subi Marist [!!!], smelled blood, promoted himself to number 3, [wasn’t required], and the opening batsmen made the runs in less than 5 overs.

Retribution. Merciless, and swift in its brutal execution. No wonder it still smarts, and is spoken of in hushed tones to this day…

Ray on the other hand, spared the indignity, wistfully reminisced about the time he won the Fred Mann Medal in under 12’s back in the 1930’s, and you felt like his was a different sort of homecoming; a washed out sky, the spires of Norfolk Pines piercing the lilac haze of Jacaranda, littered with mid twentieth century apartments where the poor people used to live. He was home, this was his country...

He then went on to joke about how Liz had some One Day International tickets, and was excited to be finally seeing some ‘real cricket’…

I’m not sure what she means by that.

What does she mean by that!?!

Sure, in second division no one ever really gives LBW, or stumpings for example, but for us the game is played with as much passion and rivalry as any Ashes Series.

Smith had just made a game-changing ton for Australia in Brisbane, and in our minds, we were there with him, facing every ball, grinding it out, warding off defeat, and sharing the triumph… 

Well, Dave Barratt was anyway. Still smarting from the slight of alleged boringness, strode out to the crease with the kind of steely determination that was ultimately even more boring.

We had won the toss and were batting.

Quinny at the other end, couldn’t help but entertain. Everyone loves a clown, but spare a thought for the sad man, whose heart and soul goes to making other men laugh.  

It’s a tough gig, and he does all his own slapstick…

Dubois opened the bowling with a haircut that would have looked quite handsome on a middle-aged woman from Claremont. Quinny blanched.

Elliot from the other, pranced in a merry dance from side on of the wicket. It was a fancy action; with a one, two, three, arms into 5th position, skip, hop, slide… and bowl. In my mind, I even see the tu-tu.

It was so distracting and Quinny had no option than to hit him down the ground. 

Dave Barratt turned 4’s into twos, and 2’s into 1’s and scintillating cricket into an afternoon nap. Quin farmed himself the strike to stay alert.

Broad shouldered Jonny came on to bowl, carrying the ball with a forward wrist that hung before his groin like a pendulous seedpod. It was kind of erotic in a way I can’t quite put my finger in.

Quinny rocked back and cut his first delivery, and followed it with a later cut, two balls later in fact.

Dave Barratt kept it sensible, head down, nothing silly, and was about as much fun as senior public servant ever really can be.

He did bring up the 50 off 10 overs but was caught for 18, closing a 63 run opening partnership.

Meanwhile, Australia approached the English total… in no small part due to Dave’s empathetic connection with the Australian captain.

I came in at number 3, and was feeling good. I saw the ball well, played some nice shots and some even more beautiful leaves, until Wynne came on and served a selection of fruity mince pies: my weakness at this time of year.

Our thinking was it was better to have Joe umpiring out in the middle annoying the opposition, than in the shed annoying us. It proved to be an oversight.

He gave me LBW with my back leg in the air to a high bouncing ball still in its way up!?! I think he fired me before it even connected…

Does he know I’m on our selection committee? Does he know I write the match report? Is the guy A COMPLETE IDIOT!?!

In the moment, I may have said a few harsh words that I will come to regret, but now that I have taken some time to think reasonably about this and let my emotions cool, I think it is time we fucked him off all together. 

It wasn’t the incorrectness of the decision, [Quinny said it was plumb, and I was playing across the line…again], but it was the sheer enjoyment of giving me out. Like he vicariously took the wicket!?! ‘How is that?’ he grinned!

You can get away with being a shit bloke like Darrell if we are really short of bowlers but not when you are in the team as part of the clubs ‘new member drive’.

I was out on 13. Unlucky for some...

Joe Dirt specifically.

He’ll be going for some long walks out of the nets on Tuesday, which will do us both good, I need to vent and he needs the exercise.

JL came in looking as relaxed as a man three beers in by midday, and set about constructing an innings. At drinks, we were two for 93. Quinny was on 49 and Australia lead by 29 runs.

Darrell made a great brew, only lacking rum and a can of Emu Export, [according to Quinny], who brought up his 50 with a couple of boundaries over mid wicket and one down the ground to take 17 runs from an over by Cranley.

Their bowling stocks largely turned to laughing stocks as Jonny fatigued and started bowling wides, or short and outside off; easy to cut, or rock back and square drive, and the boys made hay while the sun shone.

Joe, fixating on the edge of the skinny little pitch, called no ball after no ball, until the opposing Captain started to complain about the stultifying level of officiation…

‘Sorry mate, we know...’

Harley came on to bowl and Quinny was uncharacteristically patient. He was in his nervous 70’s and maybe this would be the day to convert a healthy start into a milestone century.

Harley also looked like he was in his 70’s, with even less chance of making it to 100, especially after dropping a caught and bowled attempt that could probably kill a man of his age.

JL hit one over the fence, which on a backyard ground such as this, and with calls of ‘lost ball’, surely must be 6 and out. Once the ball had been recovered, play resumed and he brought up with the 150 with a 4 that very nearly landed in a passing pram.

I’m not an expert, but surely this kind of behaviour deviates from the standard INTJ on the MBTI, and clearly indicates psychopathic tendencies.

You can imagine careers day back in high school: ‘Has he considered corporate law, Mrs Little?’

Don’t get me wrong; he also played some beautiful cut shots and fine glances off his legs. But he would then tease the fielders spooning it just in front of them, while calling, ‘Yes!’

Like the kind of kid that pulls the wings off flies...

Quinny hit a big six, fell over, was nearly stumped, fell out of a building, ducked under plank, and was run over by a little red car giggling with midgets.

Or at least that’s how I remember his innings.

JL brought up his 50 with a pull shot square of the wicket, and raised his bat, almost in remorse and embarrassment for the bowlers, almost as if remorse was in his emotional range. He then hit a six into someone’s front yard, narrowly missing their new car.

They brought up a 100 run partnership before Joe gave Quinny out, stumped on 92. I mean seriously…

Did the other team give stumpings, or run outs? No they did not.

Gobsmacked at this turn of events, we quickly lost three wickets in an over. Shrugger skied it for a golden duck. Darrell got in on the action and fired JLBW:

Justin Little Before Wicket.

New batsmen, Nav and Matty made running between wickets look like a choreographed WWE fight sequence; ducks, feints, a mid pitch clothes-lining and direct hit from the deep to remove Angus.

Ray was caught and Harley got a 5 for!

The old man can die happy. His life’s work complete…

The collapse only slowed when Weston smashed an edge to the keeper that JL signaled wide.  Sheepishly, he went on to hit two sixes to finish.

And that… is how umpiring is done in this competition.

Darrell padded up and walked out to the middle, watched Leon hit the maximums, and walked back without contribution, and was as graceful and humble about it, as you can imagine…

Other non-contributors included Joe, who was preparing to bat by doing throw downs with his son... AND DOING THE THROWING!?!

At least he was wearing actual pads, I suppose. To throw in.

We finished with a mighty 8 for 241 off the full 35 overs. What a difference 20 years makes. How the tides had turned! With the pirate flag flying from the shelter, tea was more like a family picnic if you were raised by bikie gang or an Islamic death cult. Quinny recounted the negotiations required to acquire the flag from an 8-year-old girl’s tree house.

‘Please just take the flag. And promise you will never try to make contact with our mother again…’

It was always going to be a difficult chase, and we gave them as many chances in the field as is sporting, but they lost wickets regularly and never really looked like a chance.

Darrell opened the bowling and had spat the dummy by his second over. Ray attempted to talk him down from mid on, counseling him between bursts of expletives, but it was to no avail.

He bowled 6 overs before refusing to bowl any more, frustratingly, with half decent figures of 1 for 25. 

Mind you, the only reason he still gets selected is because he’s a carrying member of a gun club, and no one has the courage to tell him otherwise.

Ray opened with a spell from the other end bowling 7 overs 1 for 34, and really should bowl more. Matt bowled 7 overs and 2 for 42 before he did a hammy and was forced to limp the plank.

Joe bowled a 20-ball two over spell. His first 11 ball over for went 10 runs, and the second; a tidy 6 by comparison, to finish with 0 for 16. Another couple of overs and he would have bowled the standard 42 balls.

I suppose if you are not going to get another over, you might as well make it last. Number 2 bowled both kinds of music: Leon, and Weston to finish with 1 for 4 off 1. Another under utilised resource.

Pedestrian Dave bowled 5 overs and took 2 for 13 at the death, [6 of those being wides] and closed out the game bowling to Lowther.

I couldn’t help myself: I was rooting for underdog, even if he had done a little poo in his pants.

He carried his bat as they ran out of overs with only 161 on the board and we won by nearly 80 runs.

The Crownies came out in the golden light of the setting sun, and the fines session was like a roll call of dropped sitters on the boundary:

Matty Angus [present], JL [present], Nav [present], Darrell?

Darrell had gone home…

Alex Quin won the ‘Hot for 12 Cold for 24’ award for his massive knock and in a move that can only be described as Jack Sparrow-esque, then spun the wheel back at the club to win the meat raffle.

It was truly his day… and a convincing win to seal 4 in a row. With as many wins as losses behind us, we have leapt from the bottom of the ladder, and into the 4.  

Our focus will now have to shift from ‘access and inclusivity’, to qualifying our best players for finals.

Which leaves two questions on everybody’s lips...

Is this curtains for Joe Dirt?

And how many holes in a straw?

[todaydreambelieversfic]

AUTHOR SPOTLIGHT: Fearlessly Day 2

We’re back for day 2 of Fearlessly’s SPOTLIGHT. Happy reading. 

Day 2: Recs!

It was really hard choosing the stories I wanted to recommend because all the fic in my catalogue are special to me for different reasons. And, I would like all of my stories to be read, so coming up with a list of only five was tough. Anyway, without further ado and in no particular order:

1. Anywhere You Want to Take Me - Series

I couldn’t (and didn’t want to) single out any particular story from this dom!Kurt / sub!Blaine series, so I am recommending the whole lot of them. Currently, there are ten instalments with many more to come. The thing I like most about this series is the dynamic between Kurt and Blaine. They are in an established relationship, very much equals, irrevocably in love, and really enjoy their playroom.

Inspiration: 

Inspiration has come from all the wonderful dom/sub fanfiction I have read. D/s is a favourite trope of mine, so naturally I wanted to try my hand at writing it, and found that I enjoy it very much.

Excerpt:

Kurt arrived in the loud and still very crowded club to find Blaine lying on top of the bar shirtless, with an array of women and men surrounding him. He had a wedge of lime in his mouth and a trail of salt from his navel to the low-rise waist of his pants. A pretty blonde was just about to lick the salt off when Kurt squeezed her shoulder and dragged her off of him. “Party’s over! Shoo!”

The crowd scattered reluctantly. Kurt’s eyes darkened as he looked down at the mess that was his husband. His chest was wet with saliva and alcohol. His curls were dishevelled and decorated with confetti, which would have been cute under different circumstances, his eyes were shiny and glazed over, and his pants had wet blotches from spilled alcohol… --- taken from the sixth instalment, You and Me .

 2. The Road Not Taken

 his neighbours!Klaine story was written in response to a prompt in the Glee Prompt Meme and in correlation with Five Years of Klaine. What I like most about this story is the fact that neither Kurt nor Blaine is perfect. They make mistakes, but at the same time, won’t settle for less than what they really want – which is, each other.

Inspiration: Inspiration came from bird_in_a_cage’s fabulous prompt:

“Kurt moves into the apartment across from Blaine's, and they are both immediately intrigued by each other. Trouble is Blaine got engaged just the week before Kurt's arrival.”

I would also like to point out that she offered a “bonus for wall-sex scene”. Who was I to deny that?

Excerpt:

It took a while for Blaine’s brain to register that Kurt was talking to him because, Holy Mother of God, was the man in front of him a sight to behold. The sheen of sweat that covered his pale skin made him look even more radiant. The white tee shirt he wore was a little grimy from the boxes, but that added to the appeal. And that throat … that milky throat, which moments ago was on full display working as it swallowed water, made Blaine forget all about the fact that he was an engaged man because all he wanted to do in that moment was push Kurt into the wall and fuck him senseless.

3. Our Life

 This was the very first daddies!Klaine fic that I wrote, so that alone makes it special to me. What I like most about it is that it follows Kurt and Blaine through their ups and downs, starting from when their first child is born to when their children leave the nest and become young adults themselves. Another reason I like this one is because it is the first fic where I involved other Glee characters and ships as supporting storylines. It was a fun one to write and I’ve often thought about creating a series of one-shots to compliment it.

Inspiration: After watching “Dreams Come True” and seeing that Klaine remained loving husbands, had successful careers, and were about to become parents, I knew I had to write my version of the events that followed, because even though we got so much Klaine in the series finale, there was so much that was missing.

Excerpt:

Kurt, Blaine, and Zavier stood in their living room and watched as Dalton and Jeremy descended the stairs. Kurt already had tears in his eyes and, when he saw the couple all dressed up, he couldn’t stop them from falling. Blaine, who was equally emotional, put his arms around Kurt’s shoulders as he saw the boys in their graduation suits. They were both perfectly tailored – of course; Kurt had made sure they were. Their suits were black with crisp white shirts. Jeremy’s was accented with a plum coloured tie and kerchief. Dalton had chosen a deep cherry colour.

“You guys look so handsome,” Kurt whispered. “Come. I need to get a picture.” Dalton and Jeremy clasped hands and stood at the foot of the stairs. By now, they knew the drill. Kurt liked to get multiple pictures from every angle possible. They posed and smiled while Zavier, in true Zavier fashion, photo bombed them at every opportunity he got.

4. My Greatest Joy

I chose this story to share with you because it was a pretty difficult one for me to write. I am proud that I was able to finish it. Also, it ticks a lot of different boxes – there’s a big dose of “romangst” - heavy on the angst, as well as hurt / comfort, daddies!Klaine, and a few kick-ass supporting characters, including Auntie Tina and none other than Lord Tubbington.

Inspiration: I’m not sure any particular thing or person inspired this story. I think it was just my desire to write a dose of (fictional) reality and some angst.

Excerpt:

They sat beside each other in silence, but with their hands clasped together. It had been a long time since they held hands. Blaine really couldn’t remember the last time. He had always loved the feeling it gave him – of love … of friendship … of belonging. The physical union was a symbol of them belonging to each other. It reminded him of a time when they had been best friends. They laughed. They kissed. They made love … they were in love.

And then it all changed. He knew that the hand holding wouldn’t last. Once the doctors told them that Bea would be okay and Kurt felt safe again, he would take his hand away and that would be it. Blaine knew, but right now his husband’s hand was clutched in his and he wasn’t going to let it go until Kurt forced him to. He squeezed it just a little tighter and caressed his thumb over Kurt’s knuckles…

5. Let Me Hold Your Hand

This fic is one of my favourites of mine. It is heavy on the Blangst, hurt/comfort, and has a nice dose of the biggest Klaine shipper of them all, Burt Hummel. It is also the first fic in which I used / wrote flashbacks.

Inspiration: This story idea stemmed after I re-watched “A Wedding” and wondering what would have happened if Kurt had said no? What if he hadn’t agreed to spontaneously marry Blaine? That was the seed of the story and it just grew from there.

Excerpt:

Kurt knew those eyes by heart. He knew when they were happy or excited or sad or in pain – but he had never seen them like this. He saw pain but also something so much worse - devastation.

Blaine cried unabashedly. His voice was pleading and hysterical, “Kurt, this is it. Everything… we’ve worked so hard for… ends right now. Is that really what you want?”

His hazel irises searched for any signs of recant from Kurt. When Kurt remained silent, he added with a sob, “Because… I love you… so much - but if you walk away from me now… know that it will be for the last time.”

Blaine struggled to stay upright. He could barely breathe but forced himself to continue. “Because my heart will not survive this time; I will never be able to love again – not you, not anyone.”       

[ohmytheon]

LANNI. AU QUEEN. CONSIDER: Royai and Kaz/Inej parallels.

I’VE BEEN SAVING THIS FOR WHEN I WAS ON MY LAPTOP. I squealed out loud when I saw this. I honestly don’t know how I didn’t think of it? Prepare for this to be MUCH LARGER than you expected. Like what the fuck am I on? But there was so much history for Roy and Kaz that I COULD NOT LET THIS GO. Riza’s is not as lined up with her FMA history, but more along the lines of Inej’s and I’m still excited about it. You know how I get when I get on a roll. This turned into a fucking beast. GIO, WHY DID YOU GIVE ME THIS IDEA???

FIRST we gotta talk about how Roy found himself an orphan. Because I like to start my angst with hope before dashing it away, much like what happened to Kaz. Also I’m evil.

His mother was Grisha – I’m thinking a Corporalki, specifically a Healer. She was from Shu, but of course was in hiding while growing up and finally escpaping to Ravka when it became too dangerous for her. That’s where she met Roy’s father. He was a mapmaker in the First Army. She never actually joined the Second Army, but kept her powers a secret for a long time, even after he left the army and they got married. Not until they had a son did she confess her secret. He wasn’t upset that she lied, just that she felt like she had to lie. They traveled about, being very careful, as Roy grew up and his father became a successful trader and his mother used her skills to help the sick in villages they passed through.

Roy came to Ketterdam with his parents when he was very little. It was a magical time in the beginning. They were the traveling kind of family and thought they could settle down in the city with his father as a Merchant. Grisha are able to hire out their skills, which she did, without becoming indentured. Everything seemed like it was going great.

Until, of course, Roy’s father was swindled out of his money by some top notch Barrel leader who was running long cons on burgeoning merchants. Roy’s father happened to be one of them. They were flat out of money, ready to be put out on the streets, until Roy’s mother was given the option of indentured service to give her family a roof over their head. But that too came with a very steep price that they couldn’t afford. It seemed like they could never get ahead and Roy’s mother was kept more and more away from her son and husband.

Then the firepox plague hit. Despite his mother’s skills, it claimed Roy’s father and he died. Roy got sick as well, but his mother worked day and night to save his life. He was barely back to life when she was killed. No matter what she did, people kept dying, including the children of the Barrel boss that she was indentured to. As retribution, he killed her. Roy was tossed out onto the streets like trash. He was eight and suddenly an orphan in a matter of weeks. Alone, desperate, terrified, cold, having been on the brink of death. He nearly died again – of starvation, exposure, and even street animals nipping at him as he slept in alleys.

It was during this time that his abilities as Grisha appeared. Of course he was an Inferni, able to control fire. It was only through this ability that he survived those first few weeks. He was attacked by a group of older boys from a Barrel gang that happened upon him, but right as he was being beaten, he lashed out and burned them all, scaring them away.

Roy always hoped that he would be Grisha like his mother – but he thought she would help guide him. His powers are his last connection to her. Like her, Roy hides his abilities unless absolutely necessary. Many people, especially those in rival gangs, are confused that he keeps them under wraps.

Who knows what might’ve happened to Roy if he was not found by his paternal aunt. She was a Barrel gang boss, one of the lower (but not to be underestimated) gangs. She left the city for business shortly after Roy’s family came to Ketterdam and was forced to stay away when the firepox plague hit. She had no idea that her brother and sister-in-law had their money stolen and were dead when she finally came back. It took months to find Roy, but she accepted him into her gang, though, to anyone else, he was just another new initiate. She didn’t want people to know of their relation or think that she favored him in case they tried to kidnap or use him against her. But she raised him and taught him the ways of the Barrel until it was as if he was born and bred there. He became her second-in-command by the time he was of age. She’s quite proud of him, but also knows that he wants to be the top of his own gang. Nothing against her, but Roy is wildly ambitious…and vengeful.

He didn’t let on that he was Grisha when he was first brought into his aunt’s gang and didn’t even use his abilities in front of others for the first few years. He actually didn’t even tell his aunt for the first year, but she was understanding of his secrecy and kept it for him. Nowadays, while he doesn’t use his status as Grisha often, it’s more known. It took rival gangs a while to connect the fire attacks to him. An Inferni in a gang is deadly, after all.

But my god, when Roy uses his Inferni abilities, he is terrifying. His refrain from using his gifts has created a lot of rumors: It’s said that he could burn all of Ketterdam down if he wanted to – that he’s burned men alive right in the Slat for trying to cheat at cards – that he burned a woman’s tongue out for lying to him – that he burned a rival gang boss' house down after he tried to take over his gang’s territory. Some say that he’s the most powerful Inferni to exist. He’s wanted by everyone, feared by everyone, and a mystery to everyone as well. No one knows where he came from. One day he just appeared and grew into this cold yet hot-blooded monster that is hell bent on revenge. If he so much as flexes his fingers idly, people flinch.

AND THEN THERE IS RIZA. Actual goddess of Ketterdam, in Roy’s eyes, even if he won’t and/or can’t admit it. She’s his second in everything. People pretty much know where Roy goes, Riza goes, like his shadow. Of course they don’t expect much from this small, young woman – until she pulls out a gun at the speed of light. Her precision is bar none. No one can matching her shooting skills. She’s an incredible shot with basically every gun there is. Hell, anything that requires aim, she’s on it.

Everyone likes to joke whenever they go to parlays because weapons aren’t allowed and it takes Riza like five minutes to hand over every concealed weapon she has on her. Where she hides like four guns and six knives and a flash grenade or two, no one is for certain, except it’s kind of intimidating. No one really knows where she got her skills either – except for Roy.

Her father was Grisha, an Inferni like Roy. They lived in Ravka. For reasons that she doesn’t know, her father left the Second Army on some really bad terms. To make ends meet, they joined a band of people traveling about Ravka performing shows. It was pretty humiliating work for a man of her father’s former high status, but apparently better than the army. Her mother, on the other hand, had a gift in weaponry, a skill Riza inherited. She became a starlet of the show and eventually began to teach Riza. It wasn’t perfect, but it was their life and little Riza really loved it.

And then her mother fell ill. When she was too sick to perform, sometimes Riza would take on her role in the shows, even though she was young. She couldn’t do everything her mother could do, but she could do a lot more than most people four times her age. A little over half a year later, the sickness claimed her mother’s life and her father became so despondent that he stopped using his Infermi abilities. Grisha become sick and frail if they don’t use their gifts and so it became of Riza’s father. Some feared he would die of a broken heart.

But Riza would never know. She was thirteen when slavers struck their camp at night. Along with a few other children, she was kidnapped, thrown onto a ship, and taken away from her home. She has not seen it since. She can’t. Technically, slavery is illegal in Ketterdam and slavers are severely punished – but their are loopholes and Ketterdam is a business that runs on loopholes as much as it is a city. Paperwork was drawn up to make it look like Riza was selling herself and her skills as an indentured servant to a woman that ran a brothel. She wasn’t out of the ordinary, being from Ravka, but she was pretty, healthy, and young with a fiery spirit.

And so she was sold. Much like Roy’s mother who became indentured to save her family, Riza found that she could never get out of her so-called debt. She was terrified of becoming like the many other girls that she saw, used for men’s pleasure. After all, she was so young. She tried to escape so many times, tried to fight, until she was beaten more times than she could count. Even if Ketterdam was an ugly, dreary city, she begged to just look out a window.

Just when all hope seemed lost and Riza was close to giving up, something happened. Madame Christmas, a woman infamous for being the only female Barrel boss, came by. She was opening her own brothel. Being on “friendly” terms with this brothel owner, they had some business together. Riza was stuck serving them. She noticed that Christmas often brought a young, dark-haired, Shu-looking boy with her. He was sullen, bored more often than not, but Riza could tell that he was listening. He was allowed to drift aimlessly through the brothel while his boss and her boss did business. He was only a few years older than her, maybe fifteen, but the girls would coo over him. He smiled handsomely, even flirted, but would always politely decline any offers of keeping him company.

Riza herself never talked to him, having been told that she wasn’t allowed, but one day he cornered her. It didn’t look like it, not with the way he was absentmindedly flipping through a book, but his questions directed towards her startled her and shook her to her core. It had been so long since anyone had just…spoken to her like a person. Asked her about her day. How long she had been in Ketterdam. If she liked the woman she worked for. He knew when she lied. She was humiliated when she admitted that she would be like the other girls eventually.

To this day, Riza will always remember what Roy looked like when he asked her, “Would you like to leave this place?” His face was unreadable yet somehow soft and understanding – but his eyes, almost black, were filled with fire, anger, and disgust. She had never seen someone look as furious as she felt. She could barely whisper a yes.

A week later, she found herself under Madam Christmas’ gang’s roof, having been bought under the guise that she was helping her fellow brothel owner rid herself of a difficult and failing investment. Riza was terrified that she would be put to use here – that the boy had tricked her – but found out that this brothel was not like the others. The women used their bodies, yes, but to gather secrets, to plant evidence, to maybe even kill. And even stranger, Riza was told that she would not have to be one of those women. She could join the gang. Could she shoot a gun? Riza was almost breathless. Yes, yes, she could shoot – and brilliantly she did. Roy likes to tease that Riza was his first and best business venture.

Separately, Roy and Riza are deadly – but together, they’re a force to be reckoned with. Both have grown into their lives in the Barrel, fighting and crawling their way to the top, to light. Some might say that Roy has no soul, but they don’t see the way he looks at Riza sometimes, like she’s the only source of light in Ketterdam.

Whenever his ego gets too big, Riza always makes sure to let him know. She alone is not afraid of him. She could never be afraid of him. She owes him her life, after all, although Roy doesn’t see it that way. They’ve saved each other’s lives more than they can count; they have each other’s backs before all else. When Roy comes up with a ridiculous scheme, Riza is right there, rolling her eyes, but stepping up to help regardless.

Oh, and the tattoo that Riza was given when she was sold to that brothel when she was thirteen? Roy got rid of it for her. He was wary at first, not wanting to hurt her, but she begged him. He burned the tattoo. It was excruciating and she still has the scar from it on her arm. He feels guilty whenever he catches a glimpse of it. He did that. He hurt her, like any other man would. But it was a relief to rid herself of it. Unlike every other gang member, Riza does not have their gang tattoo; Roy told her that she didn’t have to mark herself again.

God forbid anyone hurt Riza or they will find themselves learning just how true the rumors are about Roy’s Inferni abilities. And if you need a miracle shot, Riza is your girl. He knows he’s safe whenever she’s on the roofs. She learned to scale them during her time with Christmas’ gang, familiarizing herself with the city. She loves being outside, never locked away. She can breathe again. And with a gun in her hands, she feels safe and so does Roy. Mess with these two and you’re gonna wish you left the city a long time ago.

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

CSUAVS prt 49 she says

Veronica was standing guard in front of Kre'el's room, halting the progress of their mission to visit the woman with minimal fuss made. They'd darted though the palace, as if on a secret mission. With Krolia wanting to speak with him, his mother was likely to pop out of nowhere and spoil their plans. Doubling back, it was a slight trek to find a vent opening they could both reach. A mural decision that had been made with a roll of Lance's eyes and a groan on Keith's behalf at the sight of a grumpy looking Veronica. If he'd had his comms, he could have sent Acxa to distract her but they'd left their comms behind to prevent being interrupted. The half-Galra supposed he would have to apologise to Veronica at some point, but that point wasn't until she apologised to Lance for treating him simply as her little brother. Unhooking the vent cover, Keith dropped down first, nearly taking out the visitors chair as he lost his balance when his eyes met Kre'el's. This plan of theirs seeming somewhat stupider now they'd reached their end goal... and a whole lot stupider when Lance dropped the block of chocolate they'd brought with him down on his head. Mentally glaring at his husband, Keith leapt down off the chair to retrieve the chocolate as Lance lowered himself down, somehow ending up on his arse instead of standing. In her bed, Kre'el gave a coughing laugh. Lance looking to her with too much interest. Resisting the urge to growl, Keith the the chocolate at Lance, before stalking to lean against the back of the visitors chair, attempting to glare her into shutting up until Lance was ready to talk. Kre'el knew exactly what she was doing, using her left hand to lift her oxygen mask off to sit under her chin. "You came back?" Nodding, Lance was tense "I had to. We haven't finished talking" "I see you brought Keith" "He's staying" "He's handsome... If I were three hundred years younger..." Then what? That was plain creepy. Plus... she had nothing he was interested in "He is right here. Lance had questions, and you're going to give him answers while no one is watch us" Kre'el ignored him "What do you want to know? I thought I explained before" Lance took a breath as he started to fiddle with the chocolate wrapper "I want to know about his men. Klearo's men. I want to know what they sent you. You said he was to observe and report to you... did he... did he film me?" Kre'el moved her left hand towards Lance, leaving the mask down under her chin. She barely looked alive, let alone like the woman that had tried to kidnap them "Lance, I'm not sure that will change anything... They're dead. Taken care of after Klearo abused the power we bestowed upon him... I couldn't let them do it again" "So he did... Why? What happened to the film?" Breaking off the chocolate, Lance's hands were shaking "I erased files... after you agreed to help kill Klearo. The data he provided was next to useless. You're pain threshold was higher than expected, as was your healing time. The drugs processed through your system too fast to be effective, only serving to tell us that it wasn't a suitable form of sedation. Other than your marks and high quintessence, there was nothing particularly fascinating until we knew human males weren't biologically designed to carry young... Klearo... he got what he deserved. I never imagined he'd take things that far or that way simply because you bruised his ego" Passing Kre'el a piece of chocolate, the Altean took it in confusion "It's chocolate. It's good..." "Why?" "Why are you giving this to me? You should hate me, like your partner does" "Honestly. I want to hate you. I want to shake you and yell at you, and throw you out the nearest airlock. I want to demand answers to all the questions I have... but when I look at you... I can't... I still see her... Those god awful coffees... Sitting at the bar while you complained about you boss... but I guess he was a friend after all. Kre'el, what happened to Helo? Did you... did you kill him? Did any of them survive?" Gasping, Kre'el coughed as she shook her head "That wasn't me. Not personally. It was... on behalf of Erathus, at the outpost. He was getting to close to our operation. Looking into the missing ships... Pollarck could only do so much in his position... I was told he was apprehended by your Earth friends. I never wanted him to die... I wish we could go back to those days, but it was always going to end like this..." How Lance could sit there nodding, Keith didn't know. Helo was a friend to both of them. Someone else who didn't need to die "And his body?" "Parts... the ones with low quintessence... they served so we could live" Keith drew his brow in disgust. Lance was acting too calm. As if he was simply visiting a friend, not a mass murdering bitch. He was barely holding his tongue. His teeth hurting from how hard he was gritting them. Lance needed this and so far had kept his temper, but he didn't know if that was better or worse "What do you mean?" Placing the chocolate in her mouth, Kre'el sighed around the piece "This is good" Lance wasn't buying it, his voice firm "Kre'el, what do you mean they served so you could live? They served the ship? Then why did they need to be in pieces?" "Lift the blankets... I can't..." Lance went to move as Kre'el said, Keith stopping him by placing both hands on his shoulders and pushing him down. There was no way Kre'el have a weapon on her, but Keith wasn't chancing Lance's health "I'll do it" Stepping around the visitors chair, Keith was slightly rough as he pulled the blankets back to expose the hospital gown Kre'el was wearing, not sure what he was supposed to be seeing "Break the tab on the side, and pull it back. We're all adults here" There was no tab, just the string that tied at the back. Taking the thin fabric in his hands it snapped with ease. With her arm in the left sleeve, Keith gave up and tore the fabric, revealing a sunken stomach littered with thick scars. Eyeing it in revolt, Keith backed away, gathering Lance against him as his boyfriend said nothing "Our bodies are breaking down... you saw my arm... we... wanted to live... We weren't the only ones trying to extend our lives..." "That doesn't make any of this right. You fucking let them hurt him. You could have confessed to him. You could have come to us! You killed thousands of people... How many lives have you destroyed?! Where are the rest of you? You said something about a new home. Where?! How do we get there? How many of you are still there?" "Keith, just... just stop. Please..." Reaching out, Lance pulled the blankets back as Kre'el tried to help. She could freeze for all he cared "She broke... they broke you. How can you just sit there? What happened to all your questions? What happened to you needing these answers?" Lance shot him a glare, smoothing out the piece of blanket near Kre'el's hand. His voice was soft, and far too understanding "Because they just wanted to live... We all want to live... Kre'el, is there another planet? Another home base now that the outpost and ship are gone?" "Yes... a world... we tried to make our own. I don't know if any more will live... not without the ship..." "How do we get there?" "It's all on the ship... the... the pass code is "hope"... you... have an Altean... don't let them use the pods..." With Kre'el running out of breath, Lance broke his hold completely to lift the mask back onto her face. Telling them to go back to the ship was a cop out, in his opinion. Kre'el could be stringing them along. Lance feared having been filmed, and she'd confirmed it. A few doboshes of awkward silence past as Kre'el regained control of her breathing. Lance was biting his lip as he stared at his former friend. It didn't look good for Kre'el. It was like death was in the air "Lance, I think you should ask any other questions you have" Looking up to him, Lance looked back to Kre'el. Just because Lance had accepted things, didn't mean Keith was ready to jump into the same boat. Someone had to stay objective... Which he definitely wasn't being... but wouldn't admit. Taking Kre'el's hand in his was the last straw for Keith. Walking over to the wall, he leaned back against it. If Lance was going to be an idiot, he could get himself out of whatever she did to him "You don't have to talk... just nod or shake your head. Is everyone with that tattoo gone? From Klearo's crew?" Kre'el nodded "And there's more of you out there? That could be dying without the ship?" Kre'el nodded again "And if we unlock the ship, we'll be able to access the records? Including that data you took on Keith and I?" Nodding again, Kre'el was letting one rattling breath after another "And us... our friendship. You regretted what was done? But you were still desperate to survive?" Pulling off her mask, Kre'el coughed "I'm sorry... I wanted you dead... I wanted... if you had a child... I wanted... I wanted... why we had to die... why she had to die... didn't... want you to die... wanted to live" The machine monitoring Kre'el's heart started to beep louder, her hand grasping Lance's harder as she wheezed, trying to talk of her daughter to his boyfriend. Rising, Lance placed her hand on forehead "Babe... should I get Veronica?" "She's dying" "So I should get Veronica?" The beeping was getting louder, Veronica was sure to be in the room any tick as it was. As Kre'el started to flatline, Lance pointed to the door while keeping his eyes on Kre'el "No... Let her go. If they come back in here, they're only going to revive her over and over until her body fails completely. If we do that, we're no better than they were. Let her rest... Que Dios te lleve a su abrazo amoroso y tenga piedad de tu alma. Que descanses en paz en los brazos de tu hija, en el paraíso que es el cielo... Sleep and when you wake, might your daughter be there to accept you with open arms" "Babe?" "It's ok. Kre'el, it's ok to let go. I forgive you..." As the door to Kre'el's room opened, Veronica glared at the pair of them "What are you doing in here? Lance, step away from the prisoner" "She's dead V. It's time to let her go" "She holds important information" "Her body is failing. Bringing her back is too cruel" "I can't simply look the other way. Neither of you are supposed to be in here unsupervised" "God. Put the rules aside. She was a mother and she wanted to save her people. Let her pass in peace. Let her rest" "You don't have the authority to make that decision" "As the person she hurt most here, I say I do" "You're not..." Pushing off the wall with his foot, Keith stood between Lance and Kre'el. Veronica might have a job to do, "Call Shiro and ask him. He'll agree with Lance" "Keith, you..." Behind them, Kre'el continued to flatline, Veronica pushing Keith out the way, before stopping just shy of Lance "She's gone already V. Let her rest with her daughter" "She was valuable" "She was a person. A really fucking misguided person. If Honerva could find rest and redemption, so can she" "You can't make decisions like this" "I make decisions like this all the time. I've lost team members and friends, V. If mami can accept what I do, so can you. You never would have had access to her at all, or to her ship without us. Now it's time she rests..." Placing down Kre'el's hand, Lance moved past Veronica, Keith moving to catch his boyfriend in his arms before he escape "Babe?" "I'm ok... Not ok, but... I knew it was coming" "What do you need?" "Can we go back to the Telula? I need my holopad..." What did he need his holopad for? Kre'el has just died, and Keith's head was still full of questions. Shiro probably wouldn't be too happy that all they got was the code for the prison ship's systems was "hope". Pidge had probably already hacked it, or one of his other officers. They should have kept Kre'el in a pod longer. Even if they'd only taken her out the morning she was being transferred, it'd have given them more time for Lance to talk to her "Babe, I think you're in shock" "I want to write everything down before I forget it... We need to get to that planet to search for any survivors" He should have seen the one coming from a mile away. There was no way Keith was agreeing to them checking it out, but a panic attack or an argument in front of Veronica wouldn't end well for Lance "Ok. Let's get everything written down and talk to Shiro?" "And Coran. Coran knows what "hope" is in Altean. It's probably not been the same word as "hope". Shit. Shiro's not going to be happy" "Shiro said he was happy with what you got from her. We should get out of the way" With Kre'el flatlining and Veronica not yelling directions at medical staff, the staff filtering in to deal with her body were in no rush. Taking Lance out the the room, Lance looked back as Keith tugged him on "What's going on?" "I forgot the chocolate... do you think she liked it?" For the second time that day, shock was starting to set in, Lance stopping again to stare back at Kre'el's room. Chocolate wasn't a priority, and Keith had given Lance's mother more than enough for the stockpile in his possession. Being Lance's mother, she'd wanted to pay for it all, but understood when Keith explained he wanted to pay as it was a personal gift and not just a want. "Yeah. I'm sure she did" "Maybe I should have given her more?" "You saw how sick she was, babe. You made her happy for a few moments" "Do you think she liked it?" "Babe, you just asked me that" "Oh... Oh. I want to go to the Telula..." "That's where we're going" "Ok. I hope she finds peace" "I'm sure she will"