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sokkascroptop · 4 years ago

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traitor. (sokka x f!reader) pt 21

part 1 | part 20 | part 22

a/n: annnnnnd another Day of the Black Sun chapter!! I promise this is the last one. I’m really just putting Y/N through it in these last few chapters aren’t I? writing the chapter like this was not the original plan but i had a dream about it and then a very timely anon asked me if y/n was going to be in a Fire Nation prison and I figured... hey why the fuck not you know?

Also! Haruki is Y/N second oldest brother, and again, Ren is her oldest.

tw: verbal/physical abuse, fighting. Yes, her dad was always going to be this bad of a guy, I just never planned on them meeting up again.

Y/N huddled between Sokka and Katara as the Fire Nation army dropped bombs over where they hid. Aang and Toph had resurrected a small cliff jutting out of the mountainside to protect them, but even that was cracking under the pressure.

When the bombing stopped, Katara crawled out first. She pointed out towards the water. “Why aren’t they turning around and attacking? They’re headed towards the beach.”

Aang joined Katara, Sokka and Y/N at the edge of the path. The four of them watched as the airships seemingly retreated from them, headed in the completely opposite direction.

“They’re going to destroy the submarines!” Aang shouted suddenly.

As Y/N watched the Fire Nation balloons fly towards the beach, hurrying to destroy their only way out, the pit in her stomach grew larger. After the rest of the failures of today, Y/N wasn’t even surprised.

“We’re trapped,” she muttered.

“How are we going to get out of here now?” Sokka asked no one in particular. He was voicing the same question they all had.

“We aren’t,” Hakoda said from just under the cliff. He leaned on Bato heavily, still holding his injured side.

“Then we have to stand and fight,” Sokka furrowed his brow in determination. “We have Aang, we can still win.”

“With the Avatar we could still win, but on another day.” Hakoda, with effort, took his arm from around Bato and pulled himself to his full, brawny height. “You kids have to leave.”

Leave? Y/N’s eyes widened at the thought. Was Hakoda possibly suggesting that they leave the rest of his fleet here to fend for themselves?

“What?!” Katara rushed forward to grab her father’s arms. “We can’t leave you behind. We’re not leaving anyone behind.”

Hakoda bent down to look his daughter in the eyes. “You’re our only chance in the long run. You have to take Aang somewhere safe. You have to keep hope alive.”

Katara looked away from her father, back to her friends. Y/N could see the tears flooding her eyes at the thought of leaving her father behind–losing him–once again. Y/N’s heart ached for Katara. It ached for Sokka too. He was about to take on so much responsibility. He was also about to shove the full brunt of the blame for the invasion plan not working onto his own shoulders; Y/N could already see the guilt wearing on him with the way he looked at his father.

“The adults will stay behind and surrender. We will be prisoners, but we’ll all survive this battle,” Bato said, his voice morose.

Y/N felt a rush of urgency roll through her body. As much as she could see that Katara and Sokka didn’t like the idea, they weren’t speaking up against it. No one had an idea that was better. Except for maybe Y/N. She couldn’t let the rest of them stay behind like sitting turtle-ducks, waiting to be picked up and imprisoned. She had to do something.

“No way. I’m not going to let that happen.” Y/N’s voice rang through the troops. She didn’t stop there, not after stunning everyone into silence. She approached Hakoda and Katara stepped away to stand next to him. “I can get you out of here.”

Sokka erupted. “You can’t stay behind! You’ll get thrown into prison. You can’t!” He grabbed her hand like he wanted to plead with her but Y/N was already twisting out of his grip. She didn’t need him to make this harder than it already was.

“No! I can’t just leave knowing I could have done something,” She shouted at Sokka. Y/N turned back to Hakoda. “I know this island. There are forests and mountains and there are thousands of caves to hide in. I can take us there and then no one needs to get caught!” She stared into Hakoda’s eyes with each word she spoke.

As much as she wished Hakoda would jump at the chance to save himself, he didn’t look convinced that it was worth risking Y/N’s freedom as well. He opened his mouth to speak, to no doubt turn Y/N’s offer down and send her on her way with her friends on Appa, with the adults left behind in the dust to suffer the consequences.

But Y/N was faster. She spoke around the lump in her throat. “If you stay behind, you won’t live to see the end of this war. And I know that too.” Her voice was low enough that only those around her could hear her words; Katara gasped at her bluntness.

Even then, Y/N was surprised when Hakoda gave a curt nod to her, much to Sokka’s disapproval. He didn’t have time to give Y/N the lecture he so badly wanted to because just then, The Duke hollered, “They’re at the beaches!”

Y/N turned around to watch in horror as the Fire Nation airships dropped bombs onto the submarines that they had ridden in not 30 minutes ago. They were completely and utterly decimated with so much excessive firepower that Y/N could smell the burning from where they were. With their only escape officially cut off, a nervous murmuring broke out among the troops, and suddenly Y/N was extremely anxious for herself.

How was she supposed to get a group as large as theirs around in the jungle silently, looking for a hiding place? What had she just gotten herself into?

---

Their goodbyes were quick. They had to be. Katara hugged her first, squeezing her so tight that Y/N thought she would stop breathing. It was a welcome comfort.

“I trust that you know what you’re doing.” Katara bit her lip. “As much as I hate the idea.”

“This is our only chance,” Y/N replied. Because what else was she supposed to say? How could she comfort someone else and when she couldn’t even do that for herself.

Katara squeezed her arm. “I know.”

She left only to be quickly replaced by Toph who gave Y/N a very uncharacteristic hug. “You better come back soon. I can’t deal with all of Sokka’s whining while you’re gone.”

It was meant to be lighthearted; something that would make Y/N giggle, but there was a seriousness to it as well. Did Sokka really rely on her company so much? They hadn’t been separated for more than a few hours since she had joined them. She didn’t want to think what a few days would do to either of them.

“You got it, Toph. Keep everyone safe for me, alright?”

The younger girl nodded and earthbent herself up to Appa’s saddle.

---

Aang was still staring off at the burning submarines when Y/N approached him from behind, laying a soft hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Everything is going to be okay. I told you, you’re going to have another chance at taking down the Firelord.”

Aang turned to look at her, his eyes were filled with tears. “Only because I have people sacrificing everything for me.”

Y/N nodded. “Sometimes–” she sighed and chewed on her chapped lips. She didn’t need to give the boy a lecture on the hardships of war. He knew far too much of that already. “We know what we’re doing. We want to do this for you. You’re the most important tile on the pai sho board, Aang.”

He shook his head like he didn’t believe her. “I’m taking everyone to the–”

“No.” Y/N broke in and looked away. “Don’t tell me where you’ll be. Just in case.”

Aang looked at her with sad, grey eyes, knowing exactly why she didn’t want to know the location of where he would be hiding out. He squeezed his eyes shut and hugged her before airbending himself to Appa. Y/N watched as he hid his head in a way so that he didn’t have to look at anyone that he was leaving behind; his shoulders shook with sobs.

---

When Sokka approached her, Y/N unstrapped her sword from her back and held it out to him.

“What are you doing? You might need this.” He said, surprised. His voice was thick with unshed tears. Y/N could tell he was trying to stay strong at the thought of leaving behind so many. His jaw was set and he couldn’t quite look at her directly.

Y/N did the same, looking everywhere but Sokka’s eyes, after realizing that was the only thing that was going to stop her from crying in the moment. “I have my knife. Besides, this is assurance that I’ll come back to you. I wouldn’t let you keep it forever.” Y/N let out a watery laugh.

She wrapped her arms around Sokka and hugged him like she’d never hugged anyone before. She felt so much more grounded when she was around him. She felt like she was finally accepted. It was so hard to let go of that feeling that she had been searching for her whole life. She wanted to remain there, bathed in warmth forever, but she knew she would have to let him go sooner than she wanted to.

“I’m sorry. I’ll see you later.” She whispered the words into his shoulder, because saying goodbye made it too real.

A quick kiss to the lips and then Appa was gone, carrying her friends and disappearing in the smoke like they had never been there in the first place. Which is exactly what she wanted.

Y/N allowed herself to take a shuddering breath in and out. She wiped at her tears with the back of her hands and turned to face the troop of warriors she was meant to lead to safety.

“Let’s go.”

---

They moved as quickly as they could for a group of 20-some-odd warriors and a young girl at their helm.

In those early years, before she lived at the palace, she would explore her new home in the Fire Nation with her brothers; before Ren joined the army and before Haruki got mean. That meant she knew the terrain well enough to get them around, but keeping them hidden, well that was a whole other story.

Every time that Y/N heard a branch snap, her head would turn back expecting to see them overrun with Fire Nation soldiers, but it hadn’t happened. And the farther they got from the Royal Caldera City, the easier she began to breathe. That was until she heard shouting in the distance.

Their words weren’t discernible from where she was at, the wind was whipping too hard in the tops of the trees above her, but it was clear that they weren’t safe yet. She had the men pause and crouch down as she pressed a finger to her lips, signaling them to be quiet. It was a pointless motion, no one had said a word since they’d left the cliffs behind.

“There’s some large caves about 100 yards ahead through the trees,” Y/N whispered to Hakoda. She clamped her lips together as she heard another yell, off in the trees. Much closer this time.

“Why are you telling me?” Hakoda shook his head.

“Because I’m going to go draw those soldiers away so you can take everyone there?” Y/N stood up and drew her knife.

“That’s not a good idea, Y/N.” Hakoda warned.

Y/N wasn’t sure it was either, but she’d made it her duty to get these warriors to somewhere where they could hide. She made a promise to herself that she would do it. “I’m fast. I’ll meet you back there.”

Y/N took off before Hakoda could say anything else to her.

---

Y/N found the soldiers. She hid between a fork of trees watching them traipse around making far too much noise to be any good at tracking. It didn’t matter though, if they saw them they’d capture them. Y/N chewed on a nail as she thought of a plan to lure them in the opposite direction just to give Hakoda and Bato extra time to lead their group to somewhere safe.

Y/N flinched as she heard the snap of a twig behind her. She ducked further down into the brush, hoping that the black of her armor and the setting sun would hide her.

A hand clamped down on her shoulder and Y/N whipped around with her knife ready to embed it in the poor soldier who decided to mess with her.

She pulled back just in time to save Hakoda’s face from a fresh wound.

She dragged him down next to her in the brush quickly to avoid being seen. “Why did you follow me?”

“Why didn’t you go with the other kids?” He retorted.

Y/N looked away ashamed. She didn’t know how to answer him. How was she supposed to admit that if she had left she would have felt like she was running away. Even though she didn’t think that of Sokka or Aang, she felt it about herself. She never would have been able to justify leaving people behind for her own sake. She deserved it. It was her punishment to stay behind and risk her life. Punishment for leaving Azula, punishment for even thinking like that still, punishment for asking Azula to come with her, punishment for getting Suki thrown in prison. Y/N couldn’t stop the sins she had committed from filling her brain and swirling around until her ears rang.

“So what’s your plan?” Hakoda asked, interrupting her from her thoughts.

Y/N hadn’t gotten as far as already having a plan made but she wasn’t going to tell him that. “You shouldn’t have come. You’re still hurt.”

“I’m not going to leave you out here alone.”

“You should,” Y/N muttered.

“Come on,” Hakoda bumped her elbow. “I’ll go around to the other side and we’ll split up and lure them off in that direction.” Hakoda nodded his head in the direction of Capital City. “Then, we’ll double back and head to the cave.”

Y/N nodded and waited for Hakoda to get in position, then she took off running, cutting directly through the group of Fire Nation soldiers in front of her.

Y/N made as much noise as she possibly could as she ran away from the soldiers, snapping branches and kicking bushes to make sure they were following her. She could hear the pounding of their boots as they chased her through the thicket and distant yelling as they ordered her to stop. Y/N’s heart raced everytime she slipped in the mud or stumbled over roots, thinking that every second would be the one where she was caught.

What eventually caught her attention was the sound of silence in the forest. Well, as silent as a forest could get. Sure, she could still hear birds in the trees and the wind blowing, but the only sound of footsteps were her own.

She spared a glance behind her and didn’t see anyone either and so Y/N began to slow to a jog. She was very suddenly aware that if no one was chasing her anymore, the only other person there was to chase was Hakoda.

But then Y/N ran into a wall.

Except that wall was a person in Fire Nation armor.

And he was grinning like he had just won the lottery.

---

Y/N pulled her knife but before she could take a stab at him, he grabbed and twisted her wrist, forcing her to drop it. She shrieked as her wrist popped; any more force and it would have broken. Y/N kicked the soldier in the shin and the man grunted, but never let go of her hand. She pulled and pulled against him, but he was easily twice her weight and it was no use.

Y/N grabbed at his fingers and began pulling them off of her wrist. “Let go!!”

“Stop!” The soldier made a grab for her other hand and Y/N kicked out at him again, trying to keep him as far away as possible. “Stop kicking me!” He yelled.

“Then let go!!” Y/N growled as she grabbed his pinky finger and bent it backwards.

He did at that, yanking his hand away from Y/N’s fingers hastily.

Someone grabbed her from behind and spun her around to face them. An orange flame danced much too close in her peripheral. Y/N froze in fear as a voice muttered, “If you keep that up, you’ll lose those fingers.”

---

Y/N didn’t have much to say after that. She allowed the two soldiers to tie her hands behind her back and lead her to a small clearing where the rest of the soldiers waited. Kneeling in the middle, was Hakoda.

He looked rough. There was a fresh bruise above his eye and there was fresh blood on his shirt; Y/N thought he might have reopened his previous wound on his side.

Y/N was so embarrassed that she couldn’t even meet his eyes when she was shoved to the ground next to him. Instead, she focused on what was being said around them. Behind her, she could hear the soldier’s whispering about them. They knew who Hakoda was; that one was apparently pretty obvious with his Water Tribe armor, but her, she was an anomaly to them.

“It doesn’t matter,” one of the soldiers who had captured her said. “They’re both going to the same place. The commander is going to want to talk to anyone who was possibly involved in the invasion. Then he’ll send them off.”

---

Y/N wasn’t sure if she recognized the compound or not. She’d visited so many when her father was first moved to the Capital City and all of them looked the same. Large stone walls, look-out towers where guards were stationed, gates with metal bars as thick as Y/N’s arms at every entrance and exit.

The sun was gone and it was pitch black, save for the lanterns lit around the grounds. The cool air had settled and Y/N shivered as her metal armor did nothing to keep her warm. Her hands were still tied behind her back so she couldn’t even wrap her arms around her torso to provide some windbreak. But then again, she also could have been shivering at the anticipation of what was going to come next.

They were met outside a set of large doors by someone who was high ranking; Y/N could tell by the way the soldier at her side stiffened up at his arrival. He stood just outside of the lamp light and Y/N’s eyes strained to get a look at him.

“Sir, we found these two running through the woods near where the invasion force was sighted.”

“And the others?” his voice was gravelly and familiar. Y/N held her breath awaiting the answer.

The soldier shook his head shamefully. “No sign of them.”

Y/N was able to relax for a second. Okay, the rest of them were still safely hidden.

The man took that moment to step out of the shadows and Y/N gasped. She knew him, and he knew her by the smile on his face. She flashed back to stuffy dinners at her house where they entertained army officers almost weekly. This was one of her father’s best friends, and if this man was here, he would be too.

“No matter.” He unfolded his hands from behind his back and grabbed Y/N’s chin gruffly. “Look who we caught.”

Y/N jerked her head out of his hand and glared. He pretended to not be perturbed and motioned for the other soldiers to take Hakoda away.

Y/N freaked out. She thrashed around and did everything in her power to block the soldiers from even touching him.

“You can’t take him!” she screamed. “Leave him alone! He wasn’t a part of this!”

It took two of them to hold her back.

“Y/N,” Hakoda said. His voice made her grow quiet, her legs felt like jelly underneath her. The look he gave her was grave and it made her heart thud with uncontrollable worry. “It’s okay. Don’t—��

They were already pulling him in the opposite direction they were taking her.

“I know!” She yelled back. He had to know that she would follow his instructions, he had to know that she would do everything in her power to keep quiet. She wasn’t going to turn on them at the first sign of trouble. Never.

She chanted the words in her head like a psalm: Don’t say anything about Aang. Don’t say anything about the invasion. Don’t say anything. Don’t say anything.

---

Y/N was led gruffly through one set of doors and then another and shoved onto her knees in an office. She was left alone, which wasn’t at all surprising. She was about to get interrogated by the only man she’d never been able to fool. And he wouldn’t want anyone around to witness his disgrace of seeing his own daughter being the enemy.

The door behind her was opened so forcefully it nearly fell off the hinges and Y/N flinched. He took no time walking around her and leaning on the front edge of the desk in the corner.

Y/N couldn’t see him though, she’d only heard the stomp of his boots on the floor. She had turned her face into her shoulder and squeezed her eyes shut, waiting with bated breath for the yelling.

She could feel his eyes travel over her short hair, her black armor, the red clothes that she still wore; as if she couldn’t choose between familiarity or blatant treason.

With a stroke of bravery that came from within, Y/N took a deep breath and faced him. “Hi Dad.”

---

Y/N was sure flames were going to leap out of his eyes. He was dressed in all his Fire Nation armor as if he had just stepped onto the base from his ship. Y/N used to think it made him look important and regal, the high points on the shoulders of his chest-piece and the arm guards that had had the Fire Nation symbol up the sides in gold. All of that coupled with his build and height made him an intimidating man. Y/N wanted to be like him for so long; now it just looked like he was compensating for his own inadequacies.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Her father’s voice shook with anger. Each word he said was clipped like a punch to the gut.

“I’m saving the world.”

He scoffed. “You’ve always thought that you were more important than you ever were.”

“I’m finally doing something for myself.” For some reason Y/N felt like she needed her father to see the reasoning behind her actions, as if he could understand them, he would be more sympathetic. But he’d never been sympathetic towards her.

“This is the opposite of for yourself!! You’re working against us! Against your family! You’ve betrayed us all, worst of all you’ve betrayed me.” Y/N’s father began to pace in front of her.

“It’s not like it’s the first time I’ve ever disappointed you,” Y/N muttered.

“I always knew there was something wrong with you. I thought when you became friends with the Fire Princess, you’d finally found a purpose, but you’ve always been weak-minded. You’re so easily swayed one way or another by the words of others.”

“No one said a word to sway me in any direction! I made this choice for myself!” Y/N shouted defensively.

“It’s why you can’t firebend,” He continued, not listening to a word that came out of her mouth. “You’ve never been strong enough, you don’t have an inner fire.”

Y/N sighed as the same song and dance of her childhood circled around her. Her father had always believed that the only reason she was a non-bender was because she simply wasn’t powerful enough to produce flames, not that it was possible she just wasn’t a bender.

“Why does the conversation always lead back to–”

“Silence!” Y/N’s cheek stung as the back of his hand collided with it.

Her father stood in front of her and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You always make me so mad, Y/N.” he said, almost sadly. “I tried to take care of this weeks ago, the second I learned of your rebellion–”

“What?” Y/N whimpered, she looked up at him through wet eyelashes. “What do you mean take care of this? Did–did you send those men after me? To kill me?!”

“You think I wanted to?!” Her father shouted. “You’re a traitor. You turned your back on your nation. You’ve embarrassed me enough. What are they going to think of a commander who’s 15 year old daughter attempted to stage a coup with the Avatar and the Water Tribe savages?”

Y/N felt lightheaded. She wasn’t even listening to his words anymore. Azula didn’t try and kill her, her own father did. She had blamed Azula for so many things and this was one thing that she was completely innocent of.

Finally, he turned his back on Y/N. The action was terminal and unwavering. “No one can know you were involved. It will ruin my reputation and I’ll be damned if you do anything more to tarnish the family name.”

Y/N dropped her chin to her chest and let her tears flow freely, now that his eyes were off of her. Never in her wildest dreams did she ever think that her father would do anything as drastic as this. She wouldn’t expect forgiveness from him, that just wasn’t his way, but he was still her father.

What would he have done if Kaito had been successful in his attempt on her life? How could her father have gone home to Y/N’s mother and acted like he didn’t have a part in her death? Would it roll off like water on a duck’s back, or would he have regrets?

The worst part was the waves of disappointment that rolled through Y/N’s body. She wrestled with anger and embarrassment for her part in it all. She fought her whole life to gain the approval of the man standing in front of her and with one fell swoop she had knocked down everything she had already built up as if it was nothing, not the blood, sweat and tears she had put into it for so long.

Nothing could ever remedy the choices she had made in her father’s mind. Once he put his mind to something, he wasn’t one to change it. And while Y/N still stood by them for being the right decisions, she couldn’t help but think of the possibilities that could be, had everything been different. The outcomes were endless, but one thing was always certain; her father couldn’t have ever really loved her if he was so easily able to dispose of her.

----

A/N: so where do you think she’s going? lmao, y’all get One Guess. sorry not sorry for the angst.

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aelaer · 4 years ago

Note

First: welcome home & I hope you get the sleep you need to get back into your routines! Second: it's Feb. 2, a significant day to our beloved Stephen Strange. I know you're exhausted right now, and the timing is poor--but perhaps when you're up to, you could write a little one-shot about his feelings all these years later (is it 2022 or 2023?) on the anniversary of the accident that changed his life forever. Can't think of anyone better suited to write it! xx

This was sent a year ago but last month I planned to have it out for Feb 2nd, hah.

For canon, he comes back in 2023 in what I think was likely after Feb 2nd, so realistically he can address the anniversary again in 2024. It'd feel like only 3 years for him while, in actuality, it'd been 8. But when it comes to his experienced time versus actual passing time, Stephen's pretty messed up without the Decimation already (I'm not sure how I feel about the name of the "Blip" yet.)

The prompter also requested first person after I asked for more details, and I haven't ever written Stephen in first person so I thought I'd give it a go. I know first person isn't everyone's cup of tea, but if you're willing to give it a shot, call me very obliged.

Warning for canon compliance :P

——————

Staring Back In Time Rating: G (well, other than language)

An entry from the memoirs of Doctor Stephen Strange, Earth's Sorcerer Supreme, during his time as the Master of the New York Sanctum, several months after the Battle of Earth against Thanos:

February 2, 2024

Calendars don't mean as much as they used to. Once upon a time my life was ruled by the calendar. Consultation here, surgery there, society dinner over the weekend. Dates were important and generally set without change once marked down.

It doesn't work that way as a sorcerer. I keep a schedule, of course, one that marks down classes with apprentices and adepts and meetings with other Masters, never mind all the business outside of Kamar-Taj. But I learned early on that these set times shifted occasionally to accommodate the emergencies that the order often had to quash down, and it became obvious that as a Master, my schedule was more of a hopeful guideline than anything set in stone. Flexibility was a necessity.

Ever since my return to the living, keeping anything resembling a set schedule has been more of a laughable dream. Earth being the center of two universe-changing, Infinity Stone-powered events in a matter of hours did serious damage to the fabric woven about reality across the planet, and the Masters of the Mystic Arts are going to be dealing with the multidimensional repercussions for years to come. Nothing is predictable in my day-to-day anymore.

My relationship with time was fucked the moment I confronted Dormammu, so I can't say it's a large surprise that calendars have become mostly irrelevant.

If someone had told me that I, Doctor Stephen Strange, a man of order and precision, would learn to live with such unpredictability, I would have laughed in their face. But I'm not the man I once was (and thank God for that; that man was a dick). However, it's also because of this change that I didn't realize the day until it was nearly done.

I was reviewing my schedule for tomorrow, which I had set up on Google Calendar (Google had, naturally, survived the Decimation just fine, but like most other non-vital services, had many of their upcoming products delayed for years. But their email and calendar services continue to work great). Tomorrow's a Saturday, which means nothing in my world. My work continues on. The threats on our reality care little for weekends or holidays.

Still, it was only during this review, shortly before I planned to retire for the night, that I realized that today is February 2nd.

I won't ever forget the day, of course. It was both three years ago and eight years ago—or perhaps many lifetimes ago would be a more accurate description, though I lost track of time in both of my major journeys with the Time Stone. One day I'll write about them. Not now, but one day. Both memories are still too fresh.

The memory of the day of the accident, though? It feels both like yesterday and centuries ago. Some parts of the day are engraved in my memory like a film. I remember the last surgery down to the individual conversations. Christine's "thank you". Nick's watch. The cling of the bullet as I dropped it onto the tray.

I can remember my last conversation with Billy, too, in the car. Every damned word. But the drive itself is fuzzy, even in my head with my memory. I remember it began to rain during the drive, not beforehand, and I know the road was narrow and two-laned. I know I avoided a direct route to avoid traffic, driving first into Jersey before heading north and crossing the river again. But the rest is forgotten to time, or perhaps to trauma.

I was told that Billy was the first to call 9-1-1 as he heard the tearing of metal and shattering of glass before the connection was lost. The driver I hit—I learned much later that she escaped with only minor injuries—called a couple minutes later. But it was out in the mountains, dark, and raining. It took them hours to find me and extract me from the car.

Funny. Never thought I'd ever write about one of the worst days of my life like this. But I was told early on that personal journals were encouraged for all who stay in Kamar-Taj. Something about its therapeutic benefits was mentioned at some point. I only picked up the practice once I learned that each gifted journal was inaccessible to others until the time of their death, and after I mastered the art of enchanting a pen to write the words I spoke. Unfortunately this journal appeared to others after the Decimation, but Wong has reassured me that no one read it and it has since disappeared again from public view.

Still, the point is that, one day, someone just might read this—account of a man who was part of an effort to save the universe. And it is difficult for a reader to judge my actions if they don't know how I was the one who ruined my life. My driving was reckless and stupid. I was running a little late, but it wouldn't have mattered in the long run had I been fifteen, twenty minutes, thirty minutes late. Not really.

Then again, I suppose it would have. I certainly wouldn't be here right now.

One could say that the accident and everything that has followed is some sort of penance for my hubris as a surgeon. I enjoy my newer abilities—quite a bit—but the responsibility that has come with them has not come without its own hardships and sacrifices. Perhaps the worst of the sacrifices were the ones I was unable to prevent others from performing, all for the sake of the universe.

Those sacrifices were made willingly, but I cannot help but feel responsible for them, regardless.

During my first winter again returned to the living, when the days grew colder and my hands ached in the bad weather, and the only thoughts to accompany the pain were bitter, another thought was born. I was tempted, for the first time in a long time, to give it all up, restore my fine motor skills with channeled magic, and go back to the world I once knew, for a life much, much easier than this one is now. Even with all the troubles that had cropped up as people tried to reorganize a world that doubled in size overnight, it was miles away from the difficulties we were facing in Kamar-Taj.

Their sacrifices—the fates I pushed so many people towards—quelled the idea quickly. It did little to ease the physical pain or sting of guilt, but it lifted the temptation. And ever since that day, I have considered the situation and I don't think I will ever be tempted by the idea of giving up my duties for an easier, pain-free life again.

And I suppose that counts for something.

——————

(Hey look, my interest in geography's leaked again.)

I've always wondered where Stephen actually crashed mostly because New York City is *flat* and those mountains were *very much not flat*. I figured out the bridge that he crossed to get out of the city (there are like, 21 bridges that lead out of Manhattan) was the George Washington Bridge, and it leads to New Jersey—but that's not necessarily useful because it can quickly turn back into New York state if you turn north. We also know he crashed down into a body of water, which *might* be the Hudson, but also might not, but that the body of water is to his left, which narrows it down a bit. But again, not much. And the site of his crash is so dark in the videos and screenshots that I can barely tell what's on it. It looks like a bridge and some industrial building, so the Hudson's a good guess, but otherwise? Well, basically I turned on the topography part of Google maps and started searching.

The 202 on the east side of the river just north of Peekskill (again in New York) matches the movie road's windiness, height, and closeness to the river, and even has a bridge that could be just to the north of the crash site. Unfortunately the railing's off and there's no industrial building thingy by the bridge. It also makes the route out of the city via George Washington Bridge make no sense. Like the Stark Industries area in LA in the films, it's probably a completely fictional landscape.

But as I wasn't able to find a better locale that was still close enough to NYC to direct an emergency helicopter to, my headcanon for this scene is that he left via George Washington bridge to avoid some major traffic or something, crossed the river via the 287 a bit further up north to get back to the east side of the river, then went up the 9 to the 202. Unless someone who lives in the area can find the actual road he was driving (if it's real), this is what I'm gonna go with. (And if someone DOES please let me knowwwww). Funny enough, I don't see him getting led to *his* hospital totally unrealistic, because he'd need a very talented orthopedic surgeon with a specialty in hands to come in, and generally speaking a patient can be helicoptered to another hospital where such a surgeon is available. If Stephen is working at the Metro-General, it's likely they can afford a large cast of talented surgeons. So I don't think Nick was necessarily the lead surgeon in his case, just one of many necessary surgeons.

#sobeautifullyobsessed #stephen strange #doctor strange fanfiction #doctor strange #mcu fanfiction #my writing #my fanfiction #gen fic #ask #answered #prompt fill

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carnistcervine · 4 years ago

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Water-Fire Reversal AU

...But then, everything changed when the Water Tribes attacked.

Here's the proper headcanons/outline/AU thing for my own interpretation of Water-Fire reversal AU.

Based on my post here.

-The Water Tribes becomes the perpetrators of the 100 years war, and the Fire Nation becomes the one stripped away and decimated.

-God forgot to nerf the Southern Water Tribe and they joined forces with the North during Kyoshi's time.

-Kyoshi is too busy chillin on her island to bother with them, so they become dangerously powerful by the time Roku rolls around.

-The Fire Nation still goes through with it's industrialization, because, come on it's a volcanic island chain. There's lots and lots of heat, and fossil fuels, and metal ore. They wouldn't not have an industrial revolution.

-The only difference here is that Sozin actually heeds Roku's advice and decides to listen to the Avatar. He accepts that the world needs to remain four nations, and decides to help him uphold the balance.

-Their friendship grows strong once again.

-So when colonies appear in the Earth Kingdom, it's the South colonizing Kyoshi island.

-Roku is like, OH HELL NO- D:<

-He goes to confront the Southern Chief, and she's all, bitch I do what I want.

-But Roku has had time to calm his tits on the ride over so, he tries to be rational and restrained about it.

-So he be like, "Leave Kyoshi alone, or I will string you up by your nipples"(or something like that. :'D)

-Also, uh, Kyoshi may or may not be part of why Roku is so mad. I mean he is her direct successor.

-The uh, the Water Tribes didn't like that.

-At all, lmao.

-They get into a fight, he kills the chief, which only further serves to turn the Water Tribes against him. And makes their chief a martyr. Strengthening her cause.

-However, at the time they see Roku as acting as Avatar, so they leave the Fire Nation be. Their beef is with him.

-The Avatar is at war with the Water Tribes for several years, resulting is heavy destruction for both tribes, and leaving Roku exhausted.

-Rather than see their Tribes destroyed, they decide to temporarily back off, lick their wounds, recuperate, and make a plan to strike back against Roku.

-Tired, Roku retires to his volcano home and settles down with his family.

-Now, volcanoes do not erupt with no warning whatsoever. Roku and the inhabitants of his island simply misjudged when it would blow it's top.

-However, it did not escape the Water Tribe's notice that the volcano was growing increasingly unstable.

-They primed themselves to strike as it grew increasingly violent.

-When the volcano blew it's top Roku was dealing with both an angry volcano, and angry waterbenders using their combined power to summon tsunamis.

-Roku had to stop the volcano and protect the people trying to flee at the same time.

-He put more into protecting the people, as they had nothing to do with it and didn't deserve to be dragged into his conflict.

-Sozin, seeing Roku's island blowing it's top, came in on his dragon and offered his help.

-Sozin works to get the people to safety while Roku battles the volcano and waterbenders.

-Roku is overwhelmed and both he and his dragon are slain in battle.

-Sozin sees the attack as a declaration of War.

-The Air Nomads are not wiped out.

-Not because the Water Tribes are nice or anything. No, in this AU, they are just as bad as canon Fire Nation.

-The Air Nomads are still around because there is no water equivalent to Sozin's comet. And where the Air Nomads live, ridiculously high above sea-level, protects them from the Water Tribes.

-Sozin begs the Air Nomads for help, but they refuse to partake in the war. Even to the point of hiding Aang from the world.

-In this AU, the Air Nomads serve a role similar to the canon North and Ba Sing Se. Where they put up their defenses and sit idly by as the rest of the world drowns.

-The Water Tribes decimate and wash away many coastal communities, only sparing the ones that bow down to them and allow themselves to be colonized.

-Ba Sing Se and Omashu are safe, because they are far away from major sources of water. Ba Sing Se is mostly surrounded by desert and the only water way is protected by sea serpents(plural).

-And also that goddamn wall.

-Kyoshi Island had the Unagi, but... it was killed. :'D

-The South had a feast that night. lmao

-Sozin plans on putting an end to the war using Sozin's Comet(called Agni's Comet or the Great Comet).

-But uh, there's an eclipse.

-It becomes known as the Darkest Day in Fire Nation history.

-The Fire Nation royal family make it out okay, but to say the country as a whole was decimated is an understatement.

-This becomes the catalyst to the war, with the Earth Kingdom being moved to join forces with the Fire Nation to fight back against the Water Tribes.

-The Earth Kingdoms and Fire Nation have some leverage with their metal ships, but the Water Tribes have the advantage of literally being able to use the battle field as a weapon.

-Learning from the Darkest Day, the Fire Nation(with the help of the Earth Kingdom) builds a wall around it's inner cities.

-They make a recovery, but the outermost communities(ie. the fishing villages) are pillaged and ravaged constantly by the Water Tribes.

-Of course, there was a short occupation of the Fire Nation by the Water Tribes as a result of the Darkest Day, but well, let's just say Agni's Comet fixed that. :^D

-As for Aang, he still goes out and explores the world, but only under the strict guidance of the other monks.

-They are careful to hide the war from him, and him from the war.

-However they cannot hide him from his destiny forever, and as the monks grow increasingly worried over the world's state of affairs, they decide to hide him away completely.

-Very, intimately aware of the fact that Water is next in the cycle, and they likely won't hesitate to kill the poor child to get their own Avatar to corrupt to their terrible ways.

-Aang doesn't take very well to be smothered and runs away.

-Unfortunately he ends up in the middle of a battlefield with fireballs, waves and ice going every which way.

-The stress of nearly being killed triggers the Avatar state and he freezes the battle with himself in stasis in the center.

-The other soldiers either escape or die in the icy tomb. :)

-Without Sozin and Azulon perpetuating a cycle of abuse, Ozai, Zuko, and Azula all turn out as much better people.

-On the other side, the familial bonds of the water tribe take a much darker tone. Anyone not within the tribe/the family doesn't matter. The Tribe is all that matters, all others are the enemy. They become colder, much more insular. While they care for one another, they become rigid as ice, family and tradition being valued above all else.

-Also, waterbending lost touch with it's roots, becoming dark and perverted. A way to sway others to your own way, rather than flowing with the natural push and pull of the world, it became the water tribe pushing against all and pulling in what they please.

-This is borrowing from another AU of mine(*eyebrow dance*), healing is perverted into a technique that brainwashes people. Think of Katara healing Jet's mind from the brainwashing, but in reverse. :^)

-Kanna and Pakku are betrothed, while Pakku is willing to let things like only teaching women to heal, and arranged marriages slide, finds actual, genuine brainwashing to be genuinely disturbing. But tries his best to ignore it. It's just how things are, he tells himself.

-When Hama developed her bloodbending technique and shows it off to the North.

-She proposes it as a way to get the filthy ashmakers and dirtstompers to submit to the mind melting.

-When they try to get Pakku to learn/teach his students bloodbending, he breaks. He can't take it anymore and deserts.

-He becomes the first to desert the Water Tribe navy.

-Kanna feeling the bite of shame, agrees to marry someone from the South instead.

-But also, daytime bloodbender Yue.

-When Katara turns fourteen, she is deemed a master waterbender and given the rights to begin higher level training and learn the secrets of the Water Tribes.

-She learns of bloodbending, and mind manipulation.

-Having fully bought into Water Tribe propaganda her whole life, she cannot believe this. Horrified, she speaks out directly calling Hama disgusting and wicked for inventing such a technique.

-She rightfully calls out her tribes elders for using these techniques on innocent people.

-Oh, boi, but calling out the elders amounts to treason.

-Because she called out her elders, she had dishonored her ancestors and as such had to best Hama in one-on-one combat to avoid being exiled.

-And uhhh, she lost her fuckin eye instead.

-Disillusioned from loosing his father to the war, Sokka joins Katara in her exile.

-Seeing as Kya is the chief of the South, she gives an in for Katara to return back to the tribe's good graces. A way to prove herself. She must find the Avatar and bring him to the Water Tribes.

-Sokka having grown disillusioned, sees it as a way for him and his sister to finally get away from the darkness infesting their home.

-They spend two years at sea looking for the legendary Avatar who vanished for 100 years.

-Also Katara wears an eyepatch and 100% looks like a motherfucking pirate.

-And Zuko, sixteen year old, grumpy but well meaning and kind-hearted Zuko, fears deeply for his people.

-Unfortunately, he feels like his nation isn't doing nearly enough to protect the people living outside the walls.

-Ozai warns young Zuko multiple times that his is not permitted outside the walls. "That place is no place for royalty." He would say.

-"Come back to your gilded cage" He would mean.

-It's only inevitable that Zuko sneaks out and invents the person of the Blue Spirit to help the poor folk living outside the walls.

-His uncle catches him, but doesn't tell. Instead he watches over him, he knows that he can't stop Zuko from trying to save his own people.

-Unfortunately things go tits up when there is an attack in the middle of Zuko helping the people.

-Zuko is captured, and taken away, but Iroh manages to sneak on as well.

-Together they escape, but by that point that are far, far away from the Fire Nation.

-While slowly rowing their little dingy back, they come across a certain frozen battlefield sitting in the middle of the ocean...

-And as fate would have it, a certain, hot-headed, one-eyed waterbender and her "slacker" brother happen to be sailing nearby when Aang is freed.

-Aang has no idea that he's the Avatar, but he also doesn't feel like going back home. He wants to know why the people are fighting.

-He wants to understand why they hate each other so much. :(

-Iroh picks up that Aang is the Avatar right away though.

-He subtly tries to pry Aang about how much he knows of this or his destiny.

-And Aang knows nothing, the monks never got the chance to tell him because he ran away.

-Iroh thinks of a way to gently break the news to Aang, and tactfully handle his need to be trained so he can put an end to this war once and for all.

-Hopefully before Agni's Comet, because Iroh knows that even though his brother isn't a wicked man, he will do what is necessary to put an end to this.

-You see, the Fire Nation has begun to withdraw, it's mostly biding it's time for the Comet's return so that they can put an end to this struggle once and for all.

-Ozai doesn't want to destroy the Water Tribes, but watching his father drown, his nephew slaughtered, and his own brother crippled and forced into retirement has brought him to some very dark conclusions.

-Iroh advocates strongly against using the comet for war, but Ozai has made it clear if the war does not end before the comet appears... He will do what he deems to be necessary.

-That being said, finding out that his son and brother had been taken by the Water Tribes throws him into a rage.

-And yeah, loosing Lu Ten and Azulon, broke Iroh. Along with being physically injured himself. So he gave up the throne to Ozai, feeling that there was nothing he could do for his country.

-With the Avatar, now found, Iroh decides to indulge his nephew's desire to travel and help in the war effort.

-Because, well, Iroh is terrified that Ozai will use Aang to take down the Water Tribe violently.

-An unfortunate consequence of this is that for a while, Ozai thinks that Zuko and Iroh are dead!

-And Ozai is the opposite of able to cope with this. lmao

-I haven't decided when Aang should realize that he's the Avatar, but it's def gonna be due to him loosing control and lashing out in the avatar state.

-Iroh ends up being the one to calm Aang down when he goes Avatar-Rage-Mode.

-Because Iroh is big soft man, and basically Aang and Zuko's dad.

-It's too soft to for me to resist okay?? :D

-I'm also not entirely sure when to place this on the timeline, but I am highly considering having Ozai find out that Zuko and Iroh are alive at the end of Book 1, so that it can mirror canon a bit. Because as soon as he finds out they're alive he sends his stronk ass, prodigy daughter Azula to go fetch the two and bring them back home safely.

-But also go get the Avatar, so he can be properly trained in firebending.

-Yes, Azula is good in this fic. But she's still not nice. She's very pragmatic and stoic. She does genuinely care about her brother and Uncle, but she considers the safety of the world and the Fire Nation to be more important than their feelings.

-She's cold and detached, but would do anything to protect the Fire Nation, her family or help the world as a whole.

-Azula is also occasionally playful, teasing Zuko and calling him Zuzu or dum-dum.

-Once she's pulled into the story, she kinda serves as a rival to Zuko. Constantly trying to drag the Gaang home to the Fire Nation, so the Avatar can be taught by proper instructors.

-And Ozai is not a bad dude, but he's STRESSED. And seen some very unfortunate things. Let's just say, the war is not putting him a great headspace.

-Like he isn't abusive like Canon!Ozai, but his desperation to save his country and put an end to the war is driving him to do some questionable things. Like considering using Agni's Comet.

-The people of the Foggy Swamp are still good and left in tune with the true nature of water. So when time comes around to Katara to have her heel-face turn, ya already know who she gon go to.

-Also, they sups spiritual, so yeh.

-I am also considering having the Foggy Swamp be the final point of Katara's redemption arc, like her final realization of what he destiny really entails and what she must do.

-But I do want the first step to be Sokka getting injured while protecting her.

-Like she can't believe this, she's about to loose the last piece of her family, and in a desperate move, she rediscovers the lost art of true healing. Saving Sokka's life.

-I’m also considering having Katara join the Gaang at the end of book two.

...

-Sparkle Sparkle Moon Girl.

#ATLA #Avatar #ATLA AU #Zuko #Katara #Sokka #Iroh #Water-Fire Reversal AU #SPARKLE SPARKLE MOON GIRL #My Take

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nileqt87 · 4 years ago

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More thoughts on how to resurrect the Indiana Jones franchise post-Harrison Ford

Perhaps a proper, modern television show would be a good way to bring back a younger, but adult Indy (with perhaps flashbacks littered throughout). You can also get away with a lot more content (definitely aim for TV-14) and characters who are allowed to be flawed. Relationship dramas are serialized storytelling's forte in a way that is disappearing more and more from blockbuster films. Complicated characters are better left to television, as the audience expects and allows for it because of the nuance and depth the serialization affords. The complicated, messy story of Abner and Marion is a story best left to being explored only after the characters have some real complexity and development. It also wouldn't be forced to play to the mass audience of under-13s that makes modern PG-13 often meaningless. In comparison, TV-14 actually pushes up harder against its limits regularly--not just violence, but also with innuendo and sexuality minus nudity. The amount of historical-style, pulpy violence, not to mention potentially comically gruesome deaths, in Indy would also necessitate the rating. Indiana Jones might be niche enough at this point with an audience veering towards adults who grew up with it (Gen-X and the older end of Gen-Y), while Gen-Z has little awareness of it, that Disney wouldn't be forced to make it a total kiddie property. It's not the same situation as back in the early '90s with Young Indy being aimed at older kids who had recently seen Last Crusade in the theater. They could reboot it for television with a young adult Indy who potentially could grow into a fully adult version. And I wouldn't try too hard to not step on the trilogy's toes with the timeline. Just let it live in its own developing continuity.

Use of long-running supporting cast (parents, Remy and returning guest stars aside) would also be a big difference from Young Indy. Characters like Belloq (could potentially go from friend to antagonist, akin to how Smallville handled Lex), Sallah, Henry, Brody, Abner, Marion, etc... could actually be around a lot more than just for an adventure here or there. These are all characters Indy had clearly known for years. Actually put the show into a seasonal, serialized format that isn't a new cast every episode. You could also stick around in locations a lot longer this way, which would help with budget.

Another thought I've had since watching an absolute ton of fantasy/sci-fi dramas in the last few years is that the influence of Indiana Jones is actually pretty apparent in a number of pretty famous characters, sometimes overtly and sometimes a bit more subtly. Harrison, Indy or Raiders in general are outright name-checked in quite a few places, often by scrappy action hero types who tend to take hard beatings (the kinds of characters who should've died a hundred times over) while in situations they're way over their heads in or literally impossible odds they can't win. Like Indy, the intended prize isn't won at the end and, outside of a few gruesome baddie deaths, the shady, corrupt or evil barely get a dent. Fox Mulder and Dean Winchester are two characters who name-check the comparison overtly and you can see the writers and actors both having the influence in mind. It's obviously a male fantasy, too. The influence on The X-Files and Supernatural is definitely there. Supernatural is chock full of biblical MacGuffins (not to mention having angels and demons as most of its recurring supporting cast), so it would be a hard comparison to avoid. Raiders came up in the WWII Nazi submarine episode with a piece of the Ark onboard (it's subsequently a show to raid for Indy ideas, because they pretty much mined everything biblical), for example. The X-Files likewise was dealing with shady government officials and pretty blatantly copied the huge warehouse of government secrets loaded with alien relics (and then repeated the Cigarette Smoking Man's warehouse reveal with the tunnel of filing cabinets stretching on forever). Mulder was also very much a one-man army a lot of the time when it came to the alien conspiracy (no offense to Scully). Moments like him climbing/riding the tops of sky rides, trains and escaping the spaceship were total Indy-esque moments. Sam and Dean had literal God-tier levels of plot armor keeping them alive (repeated resurrections included). Angel is another one that, unlike Mulder and the Winchesters being very human, is a supernatural character (subsequently his level of pain tolerance and durability is at the level of regular impalement, defenestration out of skyscrapers and being set on fire), but the comparison still holds because of how often he's getting decimated and fighting forces way beyond his pay grade. Wolfram & Hart, the Shanshu and seeking redemption with the Powers that Be, like the mytharc conspiracy/alien takeover and literal God a.k.a. Chuck, is another endless, unwinnable fight that is so far beyond all the protagonists that there's no win/happily ever after and they'd be lucky just walking away from it with nothing. Angel also name-checks Indy with a blatantly Indy-inspired fantasy dream episode (Awakening in season 4) with Angelus making a crack about the Raiders fantasy. George Lucas actually visited the Angel set back in 2000 and was interested in how they were making mini movies every week and doing some pretty huge stunts on television. David Boreanaz had lunch with Lucas and has talked about it a few times over the many years. I mean, these are all shows starring action-oriented leading men and writing staffs of relatively similar age. Mostly Gen-X males with a few Baby Boomers (more so on the writing staff) with an audience that's primarily Gen-Y but appealing to a pretty broad age range (and probably a lot more female than originally intended!). Star Wars, Indiana Jones and Harrison Ford films in general were very formative to that generation. Harrison Ford is the ultimate leading man action star to a certain generation. Gen-Y got their familiarity with all of that by being the original home video/VHS generation and subsequently a lot more familiar with retro media (including things that were made before they were born or around that time) than Gen-Z. '80s movies have a lot of currency and familiarity still with Gen-Y, even if Baby Boomers were the stars of them and Gen-X were the ones who saw them in theaters. Gen-Y fangirls absolutely dominate the fandoms of many iconic television supernatural/sci-fi franchises (many are admittedly aging franchises). The WB/CW have catered to this group of fans for the last two and a half decades. If you're going to be reviving the character as a mid-20s-to-30s version (if the show lasts long enough, it probably will be stepping on the trilogy's toes timeline-wise by the end), I'd absolutely be aiming for this same audience and their tastes. They're also the audience who would be most receptive to and familiar with the character, IMO. If I were going to reinvent Indiana Jones for the television landscape, I would definitely be looking at those sorts of shows that have influence from the character already in their DNA. I think for the target audience, they'd definitely need to be aiming it at the same fanbases. Young Indy mostly tried to avoid stepping on Raiders' toes (despite Temple of Doom and Mask of Evil already making it ludicrous) by limiting the amount of supernatural elements, but I think a show would have to go all in on it. Indy would have to be transformed a bit in regards to trying to line him up with a character who would still be skeptical after all he's seen. Young Indy ended up forced into being a straight period drama with educational elements, which is very counter to what the audience wanted. There are things to keep from that approach (meeting historical persons, being a WWI veteran and witnessing history could absolutely be mined as backdrops to the stories), but the supernatural elements would have to exist in a revival now to get the audience who I think would be most receptive to it. While I would aim for a serialized drama format that would mean the globetrotting wouldn't have to completely change locations every episode (have it instead in arcs with some bigger MacGuffins and baddies perhaps crossing entire seasons), it's true that there would probably have to be more location filming than good, ol' Vancouver, but Disney is one of the few who could afford it (though Covid certainly would throw a wrench in it and political situations could potentially kill off certain locations). There's only so much green screen that Indy could get away with, though I imagine that a fair amount of it would have to be used for period piece reasons alone. There are a lot of modern intrusions even in historically-intact cities (Eastern Europe comes to mind as having a lot of its architecture intact and is affordable to film in) and around iconic landscapes to paint out. But at its core, it probably would need to bulk up its focus on the relationship dramas. Indy tends to have a girl at every port and to a degree you would introduce some of these love interests, but there's still a lot of relationships of every kind that could be developed and serialized. Certainly throw in a few femme fatales and tragic losses, given the Smallville-esque situation of there being an inevitable Indy/Marion endgame that should be kept--it thus becomes about the journey when it's a set conclusion. Absolutely have a strong recurring cast of Henry and friends new and old. The films actually have a lot of characters that Indy didn't just meet yesterday and could be developed to a huge extent. For a show to work now, there'd have to be a lot more connectivity to how often the recurring cast appear. Young Indy had a lot more of an anthology format with little chance of us getting attached to most of the revolving cast outside of a very tiny few. That's the biggest thing I'd change. You need characters to become regulars beyond just Indy if it were revived for modern cinematic television (the true successor to the film serials of the '30s!) in a way that isn't necessary for film installments.

#indana jones #harrison ford #lucasfilm #indy #young indy

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ericsonclan · 3 years ago

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A Moment Frozen in the Rain

Summary: Louis and Violet have a friendly competition that ends with one getting sick leaving New York with one less Spiderperson temporarily.

Word Count: 3387

Read on AO3:

Violet’s eyes stared up at the sky, watching the few clouds of the day roll on by. The bright white clouds complemented the orange hue of the sky above as the blonde let herself drop her guard. Her hands rested behind her head as the cool breeze of New York blew through her hair along with the smells of the city. Some were nice and others not so much but it wasn’t anything that Violet wasn’t used to.

The wind quickly picked up for a brief moment, causing the webs beneath Violet to shake lightly. It didn’t bother her and soon the wind had settled down when suddenly a familiar, carefree tune appeared nearby. Glancing over to her right, Violet noticed the familiar glint of a pair of reflective black shield sunglasses and the usual warm smile that rested on the lips underneath.

“Pizza delivery!” Louis flashed a grin as he landed on the large web that connected between two buildings. The platform of webs bounced up and down from the movement, causing Violet’s mask to slip off of her chest and towards the alley below. With a frantic lunge and her fast reflexes Violet managed to grab the mask before rolling back over to glare up at her best friend.

“Hahaha, oops! Sorry, but I did get back here in under half an hour so the pizza isn’t free,” Louis teased as he collapsed on the web with his legs criss crossed. The little action he had made created another series of web bounces making Louis’ dreads shake for a moment. Violet grabbed the pizza box and flicked up the cover. Immediately she was hit with the smells of cheese, tomato and pepperoni. Nabbing up the first slice and folding it in half, Violet was about to scarf down the first slice when Louis spoke again.

“Ah! Ah! Ah!” Louis tutted as he wagged his finger. “You have to pay for the pizza first. You know the price,” A playful smile pulled on his lips as he looked over at his best friend.

Violet groaned and rolled her eyes before giving a big smile.

“Whoa! The power of your smile! The bad guys of New York better watch out, they might be blinded by Recluse’s beaming grin!”

“Shut up,” Violet lightly jabbed Louis’ side, causing him to laugh as he snatched up his first slice.

Soon the two of them put their full attention on the pizza, both inhaling the slices at a rapid pace. After a few minutes the pizza was decimated and Louis gave a loud burp as he fell backwards, making the web bounce once more. “Man. Reggie’s Pies and Fries really is the best!” Louis gave a happy sigh and looked up at the lazy clouds.

“Yeah,” Violet lay down and stared up at the orange sky.

The two were silent for a few seconds before Louis spoke up again.

“Alright, so you want the usual bet or something else for today’s race?” Louis grinned over at Violet who tilted her head to the side to see him.

Her eyes studied him for a second; something about his smile seemed more mischievous than usual. “Why the hell are you smiling like that?”

“Hmm, oh, this smile?” Louis gestured to his smile which grew. “Nothing, just that I happen to have two Broadway tickets for a musical that I’m sure a certain someone’s girlfriend would love,”

Violet’s eyes grew large before her skepticism took over. “Bullshit, the tickets sold out weeks ago,”

“Oh yeah? Then I guess these are fake.” Louis held up two tickets between his pointer and middle finger, playfulness dancing in his eyes when he saw Violet’s shock.

The blonde stared at the tickets for a moment, processing what she was seeing. After a few seconds she spoke up. “What do you get if you win?” Violet crossed her arms and waited to see what Louis had up his sleeve for his winnings.

“Hmmm, I think I should get two ‘no questions asked’ and I get to choose the activities for our next two hangout times,” Louis smiled and displayed the tickets again so that Violet would be reminded of what she could win.

Violet thought about the bet. She was sure if Louis won he’d drag her ass to karaoke and some other places she would tend to avoid. That along with the ‘no questions asked’ which could vary on how awkward or annoying they turned out to be made this bet a heavy loss if Louis won. Then again, seeing Prisha’s eyes light up when she heard that Violet had two tickets to a musical she adored and on Broadway no less… that felt worth the risk.

“Okay, deal,” Violet rose up and slowly placed her mask back onto her head.

Louis beamed at her words and hopped up as well, quickly picking up the empty pizza box. “Alright, on the count of three we’ll start our race to Marsh Park. One, two, three!”

The two spider heroes sprinted forward. Recluse immediately went to the right. Her suit of gray, white and blue shone in the light of the setting sun as she sent out a web. The web immediately attached the side of a building and with a mighty swing she set out towards the finish line.

Meanwhile Wolf had run off towards a spot in between two air conditioning vents on a rooftop. With a flick of his wrist a web zipped out and attached to one air vent. Moving his other wrist, another web flew out and stuck to the other air vent. With a grin Wolf began to step back and pull on both web strings. The webs began to stretch and tighten due to the tension Wolf was placing on them. “Just a little bit more,” Wolf whispered to himself as he took a few more steps back. Once he had reached the spot he wanted he made his move, causing the webs to snap back and send him launching into the sky. Soon he was flying right beside Recluse. “This just in! New York’s first flying spider!”

Wolf’s loud declaration made Recluse look over and give a loud groan. “I’m winning today!” Recluse shot out another web and attached it to a small rooftop building. With a harsh pull she flung herself forward towards the corner of the building. Placing her hands on the corner Recluse pushed off, launching herself forward and towards a large metal pipe on a construction site.

“Recluse! Wait, be careful!” Wolf called out towards his best friend and flung his body forward to try to catch up to her.

Recluse seemed completely lost in the competition though and didn’t dodge the large pipe. Instead she tucked her arms to her side and compacted her body as much as she could as she flew through the pipe. Spinning near the end, Recluse shot another web and twirled up into the air. “Heh, you see that, Wolf?” Recluse glanced but she didn’t see her friend. Did he get ahead?

“Well played, my spidey friend!” Wolf’s voice appeared below Recluse who looked down to see her friend flying towards a traffic light. Wrapping his arms around the metal he spun around it a few times, picking up speed before shooting himself up into the sky right beside Recluse. “Pretty cool, huh?” Wolf grinned. “I really am the greatest spider-”

Wolf’s boast was cut short when his face collided with a pigeon. With an awkward squeaking sound Wolf began to wrestle with the pigeon to get it out of his mouth. After a few seconds the bird was free and flapped its wings as fast as it could to get away. Wolf shook his head and sputtered out a plethora of feathers. The sight made Recluse crack a smile and begin to laugh.

“Oh, so you think this is funny?” Wolf swung high in the air to get the upper hand in the race.

“Yeah, its pretty fucking funny,” Recluse replied as she landed on a rooftop to use as a launching pad to send herelf airborne again.

“Well we’ll see who’s laughing when I win this!” Wolf shot out another web and continued forward. Recluse immediately returned her attention to the race.

After minutes of well-timed moves and strategic tactics the pair of spider heroes was almost at the park and with the knowledge that civilians would be nearby Wolf made sure his mask was securely on his face again. Recluse was nearly at the finish line when all of a sudden a web shot out right by her face and thunked against the statue in the park. A moment later Wolf flew by her, giving a smug chuckle and a mock two fingered salute. Wolf spun around the arm of the statue then stuck the landing with a dramatic pose.

The nearby civilians looked up in awe, some of them taking out their phones to snap pictures of the evergreen-suited spider person. Wolf gave winks and waves to the civilians as Recluse landed beside him.

“Fine, you win,” Recluse turned her body away from the civilians, not wanting to deal with people right now.

“I do indeed and with this win I gained priceless prizes!” Wolf beamed over at his friend before placing a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t worry, Recluse, you can always win the tickets in the next race. Afterall the musical isn’t for another month or so.”

Recluse was about to respond to that when all of a sudden Wolf’s nose twitched oddly and his body tensed up. With a loud sneeze Wolf fell backwards but since his feet were firmly planted on the statue he simply fell back then flung back up, swaying back and forth slightly.

“Are you getting sick?” Recluse took a step away from her friend.

“What? Nah, I’m-” Wolf paused as he did a small series of sneezes. “I’m not sick at all! That pigeon must’ve just tickled my nose weird,”

The pigeon hadn’t tickled Louis’ nose weird. Instead he had ended up with a cold. One that took him out of commission for a few days and made him go back to his theatrical roots by being dramatic as ever as he recuperated.

The days slowly rolled by and soon Friday classes had finished up. One by one all of the students left, going about their daily lives and taking advantage that it was the weekend now.

“Got any fun plans this weekend, Vi?” Marlon jogged forward to catch up with his friend. Violet glanced over at him then focused her sight ahead.

“Prisha and I have a date,” Violet smiled softly for a moment then double checked that she had everything before resuming her walk towards the front door.

“Ooo! Nice! Well, have fun - I’m gonna go check on Lou today,” Marlon gave a small goodbye wave. “I’m sure she’ll like the bouquet.”

Marlon’s words made Violet nerves grow as she glanced down at the small bouquet of baby’s breath and forget-me-nots that she had in her hand. She was sure Prisha would like the bouquet but still she had wished she had the Broadway tickets to offer instead. Violet’s mind remained stuck on that thought as she walked down the front stairs. It was only when she spotted Prisha waiting for her by the steps that Violet was pulled away from her thoughts.

“Hey there, Bright Eyes,” Prisha strolled over and stole a quick kiss. “Ready for our date?”

“Yeah,” Violet looked into Prisha’s eyes and felt herself getting lost in the warmth of them before she remembered the bouquet. “I got you this,” She held out the flowers and noticed Prisha’s eyes sparkled with surprise and happiness.

“They’re lovely! Thank you, Violet,” Prisha pressed a kiss to Violet’s cheek which made the blonde’s heart pound widely in her chest.

“It’s no big deal. Just something I picked up from gardening club,” Violet’s hand slipped into Prisha’s and the two began to walk off campus.

“Oh, how is that club going?” Prisha casually swayed their joined hands while she smiled softly at Violet.

“Good, it's a pretty chill club. Just me, Ruby, Brody and Nurgul. We meet whenever we can and grow whatever the hell we want. I decided to grow flowers and made those so yeah,”

Violet’s statement made Prisha pause. “You grew these flowers yourself? Violet, that's amazing!” Prisha smiled over at Violet who felt overwhelmed by the brightness of it.

“Like I said, it's no big deal,” Violet awkwardly scratched the back of her head. “So, where are we heading today?”

“I heard of this lovely tea shop that I thought we could try. It's only a few blocks away.” The excitement in Prisha’s eyes made Violet’s own excitement grow.

“Okay, sounds great,” Violet leaned over and gave a soft kiss on Prisha’s cheek then continued forward.

The two talked casually as they walked together, chatting about school and anything else of interest that popped up. They were nearly at the tea shop when suddenly Violet froze. The low whispers of some thugs had piqued her interest as they spoke of potentially robbing a nearby mom and pop shop.

“Violet?” Prisha glanced over at her girlfriend with concern before she noticed the thugs.

“They’re talking about a robbery,” Violet mumbled and looked back at her girlfriend.

“Alright, then let’s deal with them,” Prisha gave Violet’s hand a quick squeeze then guided her over to a secluded spot where they could change into their spider suits. After a few moments Recluse and Wanderer were hidden on one of the rooftops overhead where the thugs were conspiring. Recluse and Wanderer were silent as they listened to the thug’s plan to rob the nearby shop, threatening to use their guns on the owners of the place if need be.

“I shall take care of the four on the right. That would leave the other three to you. Is that alright?’ Wanderer looked over at Recluse who gave a short nod. Taking a deep breath, Wanderer reached over to the utility belt on her dark purple webbed body suit. Her hand hovered between two options: a trip web wire and a web bomb. After careful consideration she unclipped the trip wire. With a quick flick Wanderer attached the device to the side of the wall then took out one more and placed it in a spot on the opposite wall.

Recluse watched quietly, wondering what Wanderer’s full plan was here but she fully trusted her. Whatever plan Wanderer concocted would work.

After both traps were set Wanderer took out the web bomb. She rolled it around her hand for a moment and waited. Her eyes were trained on a specific thug who was beginning to walk off on his own. Luckily he didn’t run into either of the trip wires and was in the ideal spot. With a sharp toss the web bomb collided with the thug’s gut before exploding with a surplus of webs, causing him to go flying back and become trapped on the alleyway ground in a blob of sticky web.

The sudden attack made the other thugs panic. “What the fuck!” one yelled as he ran to check on his friend but was immediately stopped when he ran into the thin blue light of the tripwire. A web lunged forward, wrapping around his waist then snapped him towards the wal,l making him stick to it.

“One of those fucking spiderpeople is here!” a thug cried out as she searched the rooftops. Her eyes quickly spotted Recluse who rose up and leapt gracefully into the air.

With a thwick she sent a web out and swung down. Her feet soon connected with the thug’s gut, sending her into the air. Recluse didn’t stop her attack there. Her fists curled and she sent a quick series of punches to the thug’s face and gut. With a quick web attack she flung the thug back towards the wall.

“You stupid bug!” another thug yelled and aimed his gun.

Recluse dodged the bullet and landed on the side of the wall. Flicking her wrist she used a web to snatch the gun that let out a shot into the sky then proceeded to spin it around and pistol whip the thug.

The remaining thugs’ panic grew; one suddenly sprinted off to try and escape when the other tripwire snagged him and stuck him to the wall.

With a quick flip in the air Wanderer landed in front of the last two thugs. Her aggressive aura made beads of sweat appear on their faces as she slowly strode forward. The cloudy sky above began to coalesce and drops of rain started splattering to the ground.

“Wait, please-”

Wanderer shot out a web from the web attachment on her wrist. “Be silent. You wished harm on the innocent, you don’t get to plead to escape.” Holding out both of her wrists Wanderer began to coat the thug in an overwhelming amount of webs, forcing their arms to their sides. With a swift kick she sent them crashing against the wall beside the other thugs that had been dealt with.

Recluse charged at the other thug, using a harsh uppercut to send them up in the air before she used her webs to pull them back to the ground and knock them out.

The two spider heroes took a moment to catch their breaths. Wanderer strolled forward and gathered her used gadgets and tucked them back onto her utility belt. Within seconds rain started to pour down harshly on them.

“We should find some shelter,” Wanderer suggested as she looked over at Recluse.

Recluse gave a short nod and used her webs to write a short message for the police that were surely already on their way: “Free thugs here”. With a small smile at her own message, Recluse followed Wanderer towards a nearby alleyway that was poorly lit and empty.

Landing heavily, Prisha took off her mask and gave a deep breath. Her eyes wandered over to the wall in front of her where Violet was dangling upside down on a web, her mask still covering her face. “Well, I’d say we make quite the team,” Prisha leaned against the wall and smiled over at Violet.

“Yeah,” Violet was silent for a moment. “You were really badass back there,”

Prisha felt her heart warm at those words. Kicking off the wall, she slowly moved forward. “Says the hero who sent not one but two thugs high into the sky and dodged gunfire,” She paused for a moment, concern becoming the prominent emotion in her eyes. “You didn’t get hurt, right?” Prisha stood in front of Violet and began to examine her for any injuries.

Violet’s face grew hot behind the mask. “I’m fine. Promise,”

“Alright,” A relieved smile pulled on Prisha’s lips as the rain continued to shower down on her and Violet. “You know, Violet, I think you are extraordinary,”

Violet’s eyes grew large and her head turned away. “I don’t know about that. You’re the special one,”

Prisha’s face heated up at the compliment. “That's very sweet of you to say. What I was saying though was simply the truth. I continue to find more and more wonderful things about you the longer I’ve known you and with each new discovery my feelings for you grow,”

Violet turned back to look at Prisha and was surprised when Prisha cupped her face. Violet gulped, her voice a whisper. “I feel the same way about you,”

The two looked at each other for a moment before Prisha’s hands traveled up to the end of Violet’s mask. Slowly she began to pull down the mask, stopping when Violet’s lips were exposed. Prisha’s hands returned to the sides of Violet’s head and leaning forward she captured Violet’s lips in a warm, tender kiss.

The kiss turned into many as Prisha’s lips met Violet’s again and again. Violet felt her heart soar, the world around her melting into the background. Prisha hummed happily as she gave Violet another kiss, her heart beating uncontrollably with the happiness that Violet brought her. As the two held onto the kiss everything else seemed to stop and all that remained was this unforgettable moment in the rain.

#twdg #twdg louis #twdg violet #twdg marlon #twdg prisha #louis violet brotp #twdg privet #fanfic #spiderverse au

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bellemorte180 · 4 years ago

Text

Contraband

After being run out of Mystic Falls, Caroline sets up an operation in New Orleans that attracts Original Vampire and Hybrid, Klaus Mikaelson. Klaus is interested in learning why certain members of the human faction cannot be compelled and discovers a young vampire who not only mastered vampirism in only a decade but was able to fly under his radar for so long.

Written for June 2020 Bingo @klaroline-events Prompt: Vervain

The hallway was dark and haunting, shadows dancing along the windowless corridor. The industrial apartment building was located in the Warehouse District of New Orleans and perfect for Caroline’s purpose. It was made of dark red brick, and large massive windows that took up the top level from floor to ceiling, which belonged to Caroline alone. Once she had moved in nearly eight years previously, she compelled the entire building to forget her existence. She found that the one and only perk of being forced to operate under the coat of darkness was being forgettable. Caroline liked staying alive more than she liked attention.

Once upon a time, Caroline was desperate for attention. However, when she was smothered in her sleep and awoke as a vampire, she found a strength within herself that she never thought she had. When those whose attention she craved turned their back on her completely, Caroline found she had little to no choice but to become self-reliant. She learned more about herself when she was forced to flee than she ever could have in that small little town

As Caroline climbed the stairs to her apartment, mere minutes before sunrise, she saw something in the shadows. Her body tensed, preparing for a fight but she was not quick enough. She flashed to her door and found herself pinned against the back of it.

“Cutting it close, are we not Sweetheart?” A British accent caressed her ear. Caroline did what she could to fight him off, but his grip was too strong. Either way, she did not stop fighting and that seemed to amuse him; as though he was enjoying watching her struggled. That just pissed her off even more. “Now, calm down. I’m not here to hurt you.”

“Why do I doubt that?” Caroline snapped back in a hateful tone. As though to show his word was good, the intruder let go of her and backed away from her with hands raised. Caroline’s vampire eyesight focused on him and her dead heart stopped. Her eyes widened as she took him in, and she almost gave a humorless laugh. “Oh, fuck.”

“Ah, so you do know who I am? Fantastic.” Klaus Mikaelson was the Hybrid and King of the Quarter. He ruled the supernatural world with an iron fist after coming out of ‘retirement’ nearly a decade previously. She did not know the particulars of his return to the supernatural world, something about a curse, but he had come to New Orleans and decimated the previous ruler, Marcel, who not lay desiccated in The Garden. It was a fascinating tale that Caroline was able to watch unfold from behind the scenes. “Are you going to let me in?”

Klaus eyes trailed over her; taking in every inch of her person. He had been watching her for weeks and waiting for the right moment to make his approach. At first, he was simply going to kill her but when he realized her potential, he could not help but wonder what it would be like to have such a fiery creature on his side. She would make for a great potential ally. Seeing how Caroline looked at him and contemplated her options, Klaus knew he was making the right choice.

“Seeing that I don’t have a death wish, come on in.” Caroline muttered, hesitantly turning her back on him. She assumed that if she refused him, he would be killing her in the hallway. If she let him in, he would kill her in the brightness of her apartment; it was an easy choice. She pulled out her keys and pushed the door open. When Caroline stepped over the threshold to her apartment, the morning sun flowed through the large windows as the sun rose in the sky; casting a beautiful glow against the open floor plan.

Caroline’s apartment was her pride and joy. Once she had gotten complete control of her vampire side, which did not take long, and was able to gather up enough funds to build her dream apartment; she held nothing back. It was large with hardwood flooring, an updated kitchen and modern décor. It had a very industrial look that matched perfectly with the Warehouse district and the far wall was made of the same dusty brick wall the exterior had while the other wall was completely made up of floor to ceiling windows.

Caroline watched Klaus step over the threshold; his eyes taking in every inch of the apartment. Seeing the artwork on the wall and the bookshelf filled with romance novels and the most popular young adult books, he could not help but chuckle. He walked over to the windows and knocked his knuckles against them lightly.

“UV Ray protected windows. Smart.”

“Yeah, well. Since I don’t have a nifty daylight ring to protect me from burning up, I wanted the next best thing.” Caroline crossed her arms. She figured if he was going to kill her, then the least she could do was to go down with some sass. “If I can’t go into the sunlight, I will be sure to bring the sunlight to me.”

“How resourceful.” Klaus turned from the window and walked over to Caroline’s dining room table. The tabletop was made from concrete and legs it stood on where made of dark black iron; the chairs made of the exact same dark iron. “But I admire that about you. Resourcefulness. It got you this far hasn’t it?”

“Awesome. It’s going to be a chatty death.”

“I already told you, Sweetheart, that I am not here to hurt you.”

“First off. My name is Caroline and second, deaths can be painless.”

“I’m wounded. Do you really think that low of me?”

“Yes.”

“Let me be clear then, I am not going to kill you. I promise.” Klaus replied with an infuriating smirk. “I took over this city, little over nine years ago now, give or take a month or so. And yet when I took back my city, I did not know about your little scheme. Seeing that it took me years to discover it, well color me impressed, Caroline.”

“Yeah, well. Marcel didn’t catch on either and he was the ruler of this city when I arrived so, don’t feel too bad about yourself.” Caroline replied and Klaus chuckled, enjoying her wit and brass. “Although, to be fair by the time I was up and operational, Marcel had far bigger concerns to worry about then a little contraband.”

“Now Caroline, do not sell yourself short. It is not just a little contraband.” Klaus replied, his pearly white teeth showing and his eyes gazing over her body as though he were imagining her naked. “It took me a good long while to figure out why certain members of the human faction were not able to be compelled. Well, I knew why and how I just did not know the source of where they were getting it from. The herb does not grow in these parts now does it?”

“Nope.” Caroline replied, giving him her best pageant smile and fought down the urge to give him the middle finger. He had not killed her yet and claimed that he did not want to hurt her. “Although, it was not hard to figure out how to make it grow indoors. A little bright light, special soil and I was up and running.”

“I want to see it.” Caroline pursed her lips as though she was thinking. Klaus flashed from his seat and towered over her. Despite the golden glow in his eyes, Caroline suddenly felt brave. Her eyes tilted upward in order to glare back at him. “Now Caroline.”

“Fine.” She snapped at him. She didn’t want to show him anything, but she knew better. She knew that if she denied him, he would force her anyway and seeing that she could not be compelled, for she used her own product to her advantage, he would take it via more forceful and more painful ways. Caroline turned on her heels and walked out of the main area of the apartment and down a long hallway.

Klaus kept up with her easily. The hallway was darker than the rest of the apartment but still had a significant amount of light beaming through a window at the very end of the hall. There were several paintings on the walls and a second bookshelf against the one wall; that also had very trendy and somewhat trashy books on them as the other one. It was a fact that made Klaus chuckle and imagine run slightly wild. It was obvious how Caroline spent her days when trapped indoors.

At the end of the hallway, there were two doors facing opposite each other. Caroline turned towards the one on the left and Klaus noticed that there was a keypad attached to it; which highly impressed Klaus. Caroline quickly typed in a series of numbers and pushed open the door. Inside was a large room that he assumed used to be several at one point but had the walls knocked down. The windows were covered with blackout curtains and from the ceiling hung high beamed lights.

“I would shudder to think what my electric bill would be if it wasn’t for compulsion.” Caroline muttered lowly as Klaus stepped into the room. Rows upon rows the room was lined with a purple flower that seemed to amaze Klaus. He reached out to touch it but snapped his hand back once it burned him. “You would think that after a thousand years, you would have realized vervain burns vampires.”

“How?”

“How what?” Caroline cocked her head and Klaus turned to look at her as though to send her a patronizing took. “How did I get this much vervain?” He nodded at her and turned back to the plant, inspecting it. “Well, I grew up in a small town in Virginia called Mystic Falls.” Klaus whipped around to stare at her with wide eyes. “You’ve heard of it?”

“I was there a few years back. Had some business to attend to. The place is overrun with all manner of supernatural beings. You should have been right at home there and yet you ended up in New Orleans?”

“Yeah, well, apparently when I was turned, the supernatural were not as welcome.” Caroline hissed back, an old would echoing in her tone. “I was smothered in a hospital bed while I had vampire blood in my system. I had no idea that vampires were even a thing and I woke up confused as hell as to what was going on. I was incredibly thirsty and sort of freaking out why I wanted to drink blood. Memories that I never had before kept coming back and I…” His eyes flashed in her mind and Caroline had to bite down a shudder. She couldn’t help but connect Mystic Falls with those memories she buried deep down inside. “I started remembering things I wished I could forget. When my so-called friends realized what was happening to me, they turned on me. The vampire who created me tried to kill me. My best friend, who I now know is a witch but didn’t at the time, couldn’t stand the sight of me. My other best friend was too involved with her two vampire loves to really even try and help me.”

“You mean Elena Gilbert.”

“Yes.” Caroline cocked her head. “You’ve met her?”

“Oh yes.” Klaus tossed a nasty smile to Caroline and it sent chills down her spin, but she could tell the venom behind it was not meant for her. “I got to know her and the two Salvatore brothers very well. They’re idiots.” Caroline snorted at that but said nothing. “Elena is a vampire now.” That got Caroline’s attention, shooting a look at Klaus. “Her and that witch friend I’m assuming you referred to before are still close as can be.”

“Of course, they are.” Klaus could hear the hint of bitterness in her tone and it surprised him that he wanted to reach out and comfort her; but he suspected that she would not respond well to his attempts and refrained. As much as feeling her hand against his cheeks in a sharp slap would be tantalizing, it would only derail his plans. “But then again, little old Caroline never mattered much to them anyway.”

“Like I said, they’re all idiots.” Klaus uttered back. “I can attest Sweetheart that neither Damon nor Stefan are fine examples of vampires and you have outgrown them in a mere decade than they had in a century.” Klaus told her and he couldn’t help but enjoy the blush that crept upon her cheeks. “None of this explains the vervain.”

“Oh. That. My mom is Liz Forbes.” Forbes. Klaus could have kicked himself. He studied Caroline for weeks before approaching her. He knew her last name but never realized she steamed from Mystic Falls. Of course, that was how she got vervain. “She figured out quickly that her daughter couldn’t walk in the sun and all but ran me out of town. She called me a monster. Anyway, as I was fleeing, I stumbled upon a package my mom had. One a whim and pettiness, I stole it and ran off with it. Best impulse decision I ever made.”

“So, when you came to New Orleans, you knew nothing about what this was?” Klaus asked, pointing to the vervain. Caroline shook her head and nodded as though she was not understanding his surprise. Klaus assumed that, in observing her, she would have to of had some sort of training at vampirism given the fact at how good she was at it. To hear that within a decade, she not only controlled her bloodlust but built a small empire by selling contraband that Marcel had long outlawed in this city. On top of that, it took Klaus years to track down the source of vervain leaking into his city. “That is remarkable.”

“Seriously? I don’t consider it remarkable but more like an act of survival.”

“Oh no, Sweetheart, I don’t think you realize how remarkable you really are.” Caroline flushed again and Klaus smirked at her. “From what I understand you’ve been selling to the high members of the human faction? Yet, no luck with the witches?”

“Witches are a pain in my ass. They can’t be compelled and therefore no use for vervain. If they did, I would have traded myself a daylight ring by now.” Caroline muttered. “The human’s however, I have eating out of my hand. The mayor, governor and any high-profile official buys from me. It’s why they can’t be compelled, and you have to result to good blackmail and threats to get what you want. Such a hardship, I know.” Caroline again tossed him that pageant smile that he suddenly realized he adored. “I’m assuming this is the part where you rip out my heart now that you know all my dirty little secrets.”

“If that was the case, shouldn’t you be running by now?”

“Like I could outrun you?” Caroline snorted. “Look, I don’t want to die but I’m also not stupid. So, either kill me now and get it over with or tell me what you are after?” Klaus looked at her with that smirk; the one that Caroline itched to remove from his face. She just did not know if she wanted to hit him or kiss him. Either were fare game at this point. He may be terrifying, but she wasn’t blind. Klaus was an attractive man.

“I already told you. I’m not going to kill you.” Klaus replied. “I’m here on a matter of business.” He looked down again at the vervain and touched it; allowing the burning pain to caress his fingers. “I am interested in becoming a customer.”

“Seriously? You want to buy vervain off of me? Why?” Caroline’s eyes shot up in surprise. Klaus did not answer her but instead just gave a sinister smile, still touching the vervain; completing unaffected by the pain. Realization as to why Klaus would want the vervain for. “Ugh, you want to use it to torture vampires, don’t you?”

“Perhaps.”

“Ugh. Okay, whatever. I don’t care why you want it.” Caroline decided. “If you want to buy from me that’s fine. However, I’ll tell you right now I do not plan on stopping supplying the human faction. Got to pay the bills.”

“Sweetheart, I have no desire to stop you from earning a living. Continue feeding the vervain to high officials, it matters not. Blackmail and torture work just fine when it comes to achieving what I want.”

“Thank you.” Caroline said, surprised. She had been expecting him to tell her that she had to stop supplying the human faction with vervain; not that she planned on listening. “So, how do you want to do this. I can package the amount you want upon payment. I prefer cash.”

“I’m not going to pay you.”

“Excuse me?”

“That came out badly.” Klaus came to her and smiled at her. “Instead of cash, I am offering you a one-time payment for an infinite amount of vervain over a long period of time.” Caroline was about to argue but Klaus pulled a small piece of jewelry out of his pocket and held it out to her. “In exchange for the vervain, I will give you this.”

“Tacky jewelry?” Her eyes looked at the ring, not daring herself to believe that it was not what she thought it was. She had spent years trying to find a witch who would make one for her but none wanted to. She found that witches did not play well with vampires, claiming them to be unnatural. Thus far, Caroline had been cursed to the darkness. “Is that what I think it is?”

“A daylight ring? Yes.” Klaus was giving her a genuine smile. “Like I said, in exchange for an eternity of walking in the sunlight, you supply me with vervain when requested.” Klaus reached out and took Caroline’s hand into his, the feeling of his hand connecting with hers sending shivers down his spine and placed the ring on her finger. “What do you say?”

“Yes.” Caroline whispered, not taking her eyes off the small ring on her finger. Within seconds, Caroline flashed out of the apartment and into the middle of the street. Warmth touched her skin and Caroline all but squealed. She outstretched her arms, taking in the morning sunlight, spinning around. Klaus followed her and watched as she danced in the sun; an amusing smile on his face; listening to her laugh.

“I take it we have a deal?” Caroline stopped, turning to face him; completing forgetting that Klaus had been there. Her cheeks flushed in embarrassment but shot him a thankful smile. She nodded, acknowledging that she would provide Klaus with whatever he wanted because of this ring. “Splendid. I propose that a celebration is in order. There is a lovely little café in the middle of the French Quarter with beautiful outside seating. We can iron out our deal.”

“The deal seems pretty cut and dry to me.” Caroline replied but there was no malice in her tone. She was far so happy for that. “However, I’ve haven’t had a latte first thing in the morning in a decade so if you’re buying, it would be rude to say no.”

“Oh, most certainly it would be.” Klaus held out his arm and Caroline linked hers through it; tossing him a genuine smile as she went. Klaus could have been the devil himself and Caroline would have done anything for that ring now on her finger. “I believe that this could be the start to a beautiful friendship.”

#klaroline #klaroline fandom event #kcbingo2020 #vervain

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northern-serpent · 4 years ago

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5 Thoughts on Riverdale’s Time Skip

Hi friends! After FINALLY catching up with Season 4, and the start of Season 5, I have MANY feelings that I need to get out. I’m sure that I’ll have many metas coming your way, but for now I’m going to focus on the the time skip!

1. The Seven Years

Full disclosure: normally I loathe timeskips. I find them to be a lazy way of introducing intrigue into a series that has already had most of their plotlines resolved. For example, Desperate Housewives did a 5 year timeskip, and the bulk of the intrigue can be boiled down to filling in the gaps of what happened in between. It’s an easy way to sprinkle vague noodle incidents and flashbacks... and to kickstart new relationship dynamics. (e.g., what happened that they’re no longer friends? Why are these two divorced now? Who’s the FATHER??”

Riverdale avoids many of these pitfalls given the characters’ ages and that they all went their separate ways after high school. They drifted apart, but there was never a huge blowout that decimated the friend group. Life just happened... and that’s exactly what happens. They don’t have any ill will towards one another... it’s just different. Some people stay close, other don’t... and sometimes people develop new relationships with people you barely talked to previously. And that’s exactly what happens IRL.

Having the time skip be seven years seemed random to me, but now that I watched the show, I can see why they chose that amount of time. Seven years not only allows them to skip over the college years (which makes sense because the main characters were away from the eponymous Riverdale), but it also allows the characters to have a taste of their career goals without pigeonholding them. In my experience, many of my peers pivoted their goals within the first few years after graduating because they realized that their chosen industry wasn’t what they had been expecting. Or they realized that they had different goals... tbh several of my friends moved back to their towns after graduating because they decided they didn’t want that big city life anymore.

2. The actors are age appropriate!!! YAY!

Now the steamy scenes are not as uncomfortable since they’re not portraying underage characters!

3. Toni is finally shining

It’s great to see Vanessa Morgan getting more meaningful screen time! Social work is such a great choice for Toni’s character - and way to finally let her be Serpent Queen!

4. Jughead’s financial issues... it tracks

Idk what the rest of the discourse is on Jughead’s financial issues, but to me they make total sense. He grew up in poverty, surrounded by adults with poor spending habits. His family never had a steady income flow, but when his parents had money, they have been shown to spend it right away - Gladys bought the Cooper house in cash ffs.

Jughead’s chosen profession is not one that allows for financial stability. As a writer, Jughead will have periods where he is making a lot, but he will also have periods when he is not... it’s important to plan for the latter. Sure, he’ll get royalties, but it won’t support him if he’s not smart about budgeting, and we’ve already seen that he spent all of his book earnings already.

5. The Blossom Curse

Yes, it would have been nice to have Cheryl leave Riverdale behind, yes it would have been nice if Choni still sailed... but I’m actually okay with where the writers are taking this. I don’t think that Choni is sunk - just docked for now.

I’m very interested to see where this storyline goes. It caught me completely off guard in the best way... besides, I always love watching Madelaine Petsch ham it up!

#meta #riverdale #season 5 #spoilers

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mdzsgildedfate · 4 years ago

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Gilded Fate - Chapter 4

Reincarnation AU [Chapter 4/?] Characters: Xue Yang, Xiao Xingchen, Song Lan, Lan Sizhui, Lan Jingyi, Jin Ling, Original Characters. Pairings: Xue Yang/Xiao Xingchen, Song Lan/Xiao Xingchen, Lan Sizhui/Lan Jingyi

In all the world, there were very few cultivators that had achieved immortality. There was BaoShan SanRen, of course, who’d long since disappeared from the world after vowing to never take another disciple. Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian, too, found their home together away from other cultivators. Wen Ning and Song Lan were technically immortal as Fierce Corpses, but most people believed them to be nothing more than myth and legend.

The other immortals, the only ones who hadn’t secluded themselves away, were Lan Sizhui, Lan Jingyi, Jin Ling, and Ouyang Zizhen. As good friends since childhood, the four cultivators had come together to build a joint sect on the south face of a mountain between LanLing and Gusu. The small village at the base of the mountain was one the larger sects paid no attention to, so when the renowned four immortal cultivators established their school there, the villagers flocked to their doors in hopes of being taken on as disciples.

At almost five hundred years old, the boys had long forgotten thoughts of encountering souls from their lives before immortality. All their attention was funnelled into their school, working hard to combine the principles from each of their clans into a single cohesive curriculum. Despite the first generation of disciples being an embarrassing train wreck of trial and error, they managed to produce a handful of decent and respectable cultivators.

The second generation was well into their studies when a long forgotten ghost appeared at their doorstep. Wen Ning had travelled to their mountain, bringing along with him a girl no older than 8 or 9 years old. After a heartfelt reunion between Lan Sizhui and his estranged relative, Ning had explained that he suspected the little girl to be the reincarnation of his older sister, Wen Qing. He begged them to take her in and teach her cultivation, hoping to give her a better life than the one she’d led in Wen Ruohan’s debt.

They agreed and Wen Ning left, saying if he stayed he’d be too much of an influence, either by his own feelings or his existence as a fierce corpse. So Wen Qing became Li JiaYi and was indoctrinated into BaLanSu Shi. Sizhui watched over her studies personally, feeling his own memories of Qinq resurface as she grew into the spitting image of her past self. By the time she was fourteen, her skills were well known in the cultivation world. With JiaYi representing the BaLanSu sect, they grew to be a gentry clan alongside Jin, Lan, Nie, and Jiang.

The world seemed bright and the future seemed promising until JiaYi became plagued with insomnia. The other disciples could find her up at odd hours of the night, practicing with her sword in the courtyard or poring over books in the library. After she fell asleep on her feet during a night-hunt and nearly lost her head to a measuring snake, Sizhui began playing Clarity for her twice a week before bed. For a while, it seemed to help.

When her soul finally awakened, the four immortals were unprepared. Soul awakening was rare and usually only heard of in small, insignificant instances. A farmer remembering a life where he fought in a war and so his sword skills improved slightly. A handmaid remembering a life in a kitchen and suddenly preparing complex dishes with ease. Nothing to the degree of what happened with Li JiaYi.

On the day Ouyang Zizhen was meant to marry, JiaYi stormed into the banquet hall and went on a sleep-deprived tangent about the crimes the gentry clans had committed against the Wen clan. When Zizhen tried to calm her down, she snapped and killed half the wedding guests, including Zizhen’s bride, before disappearing. If the slaughter of prominent clan members, some of which were clan heirs, wasn’t enough to bring the BaLanSu clan to an end, Wen Qing continued her siege of revenge in the city below.

The entire population of Da Su was decimated indiscriminately and reanimated as an army of walking corpses. The destruction was enough to bring Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian out of seclusion to intervene. With their help, the walking corpses were destroyed, but in the end it was Wen Ning who subdued Qing long enough for Sizhui to finish her off. In the aftermath, the JinLan Yang sect was abolished and Zizhen removed himself from the cultivation world to a life of solitude.

Centuries could lessen the guilt and pain of what happened with Wen Qinq, but it was something Sizhui had never been able to dispel from his mind. He encountered more and more reincarnated souls; some he knew, most were strangers, but he dedicated himself to each and everyone in repentance for his failure to Li JiaYi.

~X~

When Jin Ling revealed the contents of his conversation with Xinyi the night before, Sizhui and Jingyi felt a wave of dread wash over them. Experiencing the symptoms of awakening for so long was utterly unheard of, and for someone like Xue Yang to persist for so long without losing his mind- It felt impossible to believe.

“A-Yuan. This is your area of expertise.” Jin Ling said, breaking the long silence that had fallen between them. “How do we proceed?”

Sizhui shook his head slowly. “I… I’m not sure…”

“He seems perfectly fine.” Jingyi said, eyes glued to the floor. “He shows no signs of awakening. He shows up for class on time, he does his work well, he has friends- I don’t.... I don’t see how this is possible.”

“Last semester.” Sizhui chewed his lip anxiously. “My class last semester was earlier than yours, A-Yi. He was almost always late, and missed class so frequently I had to fail him. I thought he just didn’t care about the class, since he’s only majoring in anthropology because of the Wang Collection.”

“The what?” Jin Ling interjected, getting brushed off immediately.

“I can’t believe I dismissed such an obvious sign.”

“That still doesn’t explain how he’s coping so well.” Jingyi was pacing around the room now, chewing on his thumbnail. “Do we even need to do anything right now?”

Sizhui was silent for a moment, considering their options and the position they were in before speaking. “Since he seems fine for now… let’s try to hold out until we leave Leng Shuang. We can’t seal him without arousing suspicion, and guiding his awakening would just be a burden on Song Lan and Xiao Xingchen.”

The others nodded in agreement and set the conversation to rest for now, heading out to rejoin the group of students Song Lan had led out to the clearing near the temple. While Jin Ling headed off on his own again, Sizhui and Jingyi were left alone to keep an eye on Xinyi, watching out for any symptoms they may have missed before. In their absence, the students had already constructed a dozen or so poorly-made kites and were getting ready to send them up as targets.

Song Lan guided the students to line up in groups of five, with everyone else waiting impatiently behind them, and showed them how to hold their bows. The first group fired off their first arrows and missed their kites completely. Going through four more arrows each, only two kites were brought down. The second group consisted of Xinyi, Chen, QianHua, and MingYue, which of course made their turn an unspoken competition. Chen shot all five arrows into the air with no luck. QianHua nicked his kite on his fourth try, but it stayed suspended in the air mockingly. MingYue brought her’s down on the second try, and Xinyi shot his down with the first arrow.

After retrieving their kites, MingYue turned to intercept Xinyi with a smile. “Nice shooting-”

“No.” Xinyi picked up his kite and turned away from her without so much as a sideways glance.

She frowned and crossed her arms over her chest, crumpling her kite slightly. “We’re here for four more days, are you really going to ignore me the whole time?”

“We?” He asked, back still turned to her. “Didn’t you come here with your twin? You’re not part of my class, I don’t have to pay attention to you.”

“He’s not my twin, he’s…”

“Oh, I’m sorry, are the matching robes a couple outfit? My bad.” Xinyi rolled his eyes, shooting Chen and QianHua an exasperated look as he rejoined them.

“Hardly!” MingYue’s grip on her kite tightened, tearing through the paper. She took a deep breath and loosened her grip, forcing a small smile. “Look. I may not be part of your class, but we’re here together regardless. Can’t we just be civil with each other?”

“I’ll be civil with you.” QianHua stepped in, waggling his eyebrows at her.

Her smile tightened, hiding an air of disgust. “A-Xin, I-”

Xinyi spun back to face her now, throwing his kite to the ground and stepping close to her. “First of all, don’t fucking call me that. Ever. Again. Second of all, there’s twenty other people here for you to bother. Just because your freak boyfriend keeps ditching you, doesn’t make you my fucking babysitting job. Just piss off!”

Without another word, he turned back and stormed off into the trees. Chen and QianHua exchanged startled looks and ran after him, ignoring Sizhui and Jingyi calling after them. Once they caught up to him, QianHua swung an arm around his neck, walking alongside him on the path back to the temple.

“Man. What fucked up shit did a girl that hot have to pull to make you blow her off like that?”

Xinyi pushed his arm off, but slowed his pace for the two to keep up with him. “She just gets under my skin. She’s irritating. And I don’t get why she’s suddenly trying to reconnect with me. I haven’t heard from her in two fucking years, and now suddenly she shows up here out of nowhere and wants to be my friend?”

QianHua nodded thoughtfully, humming obnoxiously. “Sounds like fate to me. You guys must have been lovers in a past life, destined to be together.”

Xinyi scoffed. “The only thing she’s in love with is my family’s artifacts. I’m certain that’s the only reason she dated me. I’d sooner marry Chen than consider giving her another chance.”

“Hmm… Chen’s pretty in these robes, but is he really wife material?”

“I’d make the best wife. Don’t be jealous A-Qian.” Chen replied, grabbing Xinyi’s hand. “In case you’ve forgotten, I’m the only one of us that knows how to cook.”

Xinyi broke out in laughter and pulled Chen close. “See? Perfect! I never have to look at MingYue again.”

“Wait! I forgot about his cooking, I want Chen for my wife!” QianHua grabbed Chen’s other hand and tried to pull him away from Xinyi.

“Hey! Hands off my wife, how dare you disgrace her like that!” Xinyi pulled Chen behind him and snatched up a stick from the side of the trail, brandishing it at QianHua. “Your whole clan should pay for her dishonour!”

Chen broke down to his knees, laughing so hard tears welled up in his eyes. The two launched into a dramatic sword fight, chasing each other up and down the trail, jumping off of rocks and spinning around trees. QianHua got two good strikes in, which just urged Xinyi to fight harder. He found another stick and held them both up at his foe.

“Yin QianHua! I never like to exaggerate when I’m talking.” Xinyi smirked and lunged forward, swinging both swords down at QianHua. “If I say I’m gonna kill someone’s entire clan, I’ll actually kill their entire clan. I won’t even leave a dog behind!”

QianHua blocked the first two blows, but missed the third as he burst out laughing. “A-Xin!”

Xinyi pushed QianHua to his knees with his foot and pointed his sticks at him.

“A-Xin!” QianHua kept laughing, even with the ‘swords’ at his throat. “A-Xin, you should be careful wielding two swords like that.”

Xinyi paused, breaking character to toss a bemused glance at Chen, who only shrugged in return.

“You don’t know the term ‘Ryoutoutsukai’?” QianHua dropped his stick and wiped tears from his eyes with his sleeve. “I didn’t realize you were so serious about marrying Chen.”

Xinyi was about to question the man further, but their nonsense was finally cut short by a pointed throat-clearing. Three sets of eyes shot up to see Lan Jingyi and Song Lan staring them down disapprovingly. QianHua and Chen both bolted to their feet, brushing dust and leaves off their robes.

“If you three have no interest in participating with the group, I can find you a better activity.” Jingyi said sternly, holding a hand out to signal them back towards the temple.

Once they returned, the three were sat down in the courtyard and left to stew in their nerves while Jingyi disappeared inside the temple. When he returned, each of them were given thick, blank notebooks, a couple dozen scrolls, inkwells, and brushes.

“These scrolls contain the 3,000 principles of the Lan clan. Transcribe them.”

~X~

It was nearly ten in the morning by the time Jin Ling made his way back to the pond. Despite having spent hours the night before exploring every inch of the surrounding area, things looked different during the day and he was bound to notice something he hadn’t seen before. He circled the pond a few times, trying to see if there was any spot where the water was clearer. When nothing new revealed itself, he decided to pull the compass back out and turn his attention to the forest.

As he followed his previous route, Jin Ling checked the talismans and sigils he’d left. Everything was still in place, untouched and unchanged. It almost seemed like a waste of sigil papers. Heaving a sigh, he ripped them down to hang up elsewhere later on. Reaching his last set of papers, he took out the compass and watched as the needle spun and jerked around, finally stopping to point up the hill in front of him.

He packed the papers away in his sleeves and started the climb. After ten or fifteen minutes, Jin Ling found the remnants of an old beaten path and began to follow it, leaving a sigil behind on one of the trees. The spiritual energy in the air had increased, giving him a small feeling of hope that he was close to finding what he was looking for. With the sensation growing stronger, Jin Ling wondered how Song Lan and Xiao Xingchen hadn’t been able to pick up on this.

During his first night at the temple, Jin Ling had questioned the two about it, but neither one seemed aware and had reassured him that if anything malicious resided in their mountains, they would have slain it right away. Not wanting to insult their cultivation, he’d dropped the subject, but continued to investigate on his own. Having Sizhui and Jingyi’s students at the temple provided a distraction for the priests and an excuse to ditch MingYue, not wanting to endanger her unnecessarily until he knew what exactly he was tracking.

Having followed the path for half an hour, Jin Ling slumped down against a tree to rest, deciding to stop for lunch before deciding whether or not to turn around and follow the path the other way. He’d barely taken a sip of water before a rustling in the trees had him springing back to his feet. He drew his sword and froze, straining his ears at the sound. The woods were quiet for a moment, but then the rustling came again. A twig snapping, leaves being disturbed, the clumsy sound of footsteps. Jin Ling walked forward slowly, approaching the noise with his sword pointed out.

From behind a thicket of vines, an ambling figure stumbled forward. It’s skin was nearly black, leathery, and it’s movements were stiff and jerky. It’s clothes were dirty and ripped and it’s eyes had no pupils. Jin Ling recognized the thing immediately as a walking corpse. It’s spiritual energy was low and posed no threat to Jin Ling, but it’s presence brought an unbelievable sense of foreboding. How many millenia had passed since Jin Ling had last seen a walking corpse? How many millenia had passed since he’d last seen anything beyond low level restless spirits?

Jin Ling lunged forward and slayed the thing with ease. A quick search of the corpse revealed no clues as to how it had transformed. Something about the modern world had quelled corpse transformation- if there was one here now it could only mean someone with cultivation abilities had reanimated it intentionally. In the past, Jin Ling had only encountered a handful of situations like this. One turned out to be an immortal who’d turned to necromancy, driven mad by her long life in solitude. Most instances were descendants of forgotten cultivator families who’d tried practicing with incomplete lessons passed down through the generations.

Although there had also been a couple instances of reincarnated cultivators who’d lived traumatic lives, died gruesomely, and awakened too suddenly. Considering the current circumstances, Jin Ling had a hunch as to which scenario he was probably dealing with. Packing away the corpse inside a qiankun pouch, the cultivator carried on in the direction the thing had come from. He tracked it’s path for a few hundred yards before it seemed to disappear. No other corpses appeared, so he decided to finish for the day and head back to the temple. Having wasted most of the day backtracking all around the mountain, he was looking forward to eating dinner and having a drink with Sizhui and Jingyi.

When he got back, Jin Ling was surprised to find only three boys sitting in the courtyard, as opposed to the gaggle of twenty-or-so children he was bracing himself for. Song Lan, Sizhui, and Jingyi were nowhere to be found. At a loss for anything else, Jin Ling walked up behind one of the boys and looked down at the notebook that was slowly being filled. He quirked an eyebrow.

“How’d you piss Jingyi off that bad?” He asked, startling Chen so badly he practically leapt over his table, spilling his inkwell onto the ground.

“Wh-where’d you come from?” Chen scrambled back, pushing his glasses back into place, smudging one of the lenses in the process.

“From behind you. Obviously.” Jin Ling retorted, turning to Xinyi. “This was Jingyi, right? What’d you do?”

Xinyi shrugged indignantly. “That girl you brought with you was pissing me off and she wouldn’t leave me alone, so I left.”

“Hmph. Whatever. Where’s Jingyi now? And Sizhui? Where is everyone?”

“Eating inside.” QianHua replied, slumping over his table.

Jin Ling narrowed his eyes. “What, did they forget about you? Get up. Don’t transcribe anymore of that bullshit.”

The three boys shot up, chirping out thank you’s and trailed after Jin Ling like baby ducks, following him into the temple to where everyone else was eating. He shooed them in and directed them to sit down before joining Sizhui and Jingyi. The latter gave him an annoyed look, immediately berating him for bringing the three back in.

“Jin Ling! Don’t interfere with the way I discipline my students! Did they even finish transcribing the principles? How can you undermine me like this-?”

“A-Yi, eat your dinner.” Jin Ling cut him off, shoving a piece of lotus root into his mouth. “There’s 3,000 Lan principles and you had them using brushes. They wouldn’t have finished even if they worked nonstop for the next four days.”

Jingyi frowned, mumbling through the root. “That’s still not for you to decide…”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full.” Jin Ling snapped back. “Song Daozhang. Why has Xiao Daozhang not joined us for a meal yet?”

Song Lan looked over, tearing his eyes from where Xinyi and his two friends sat in the corner. “He’s here tonight, he just left to make more tea.”

~X~

After seeming to only see Xiao Xingchen when he was alone, Xinyi was relieved to finally see the man at dinner, confirming he hadn’t hallucinated him. However, it didn’t make him any less of an enigma. Xiao Xingchen hadn’t spoken at all the entire meal. Even when one of the professors or Jin Ling addressed him directly, he’d only smile or nod. With how easily Xingchen spoke to Xinyi, it seemed strange that he wouldn’t speak to the men he actually knew. The curiosity ate at him, but there was no way to even get near him with Song Lan there, and at the end of dinner, Xingchen quickly disappeared again.

Xinyi shrugged and decided to worry about it later. After staring at those scrolls for over two hours, his brain was too fried to do anything but go to bed. Accompanied by Chen and QianHua, Xinyi dragged his feet back to their shared room. They stripped out of their robes in silence and slipped into their beds, too tired to even complain about Jingyi’s arcane punishment. The only break in silence came from QianHua just as they were dozing off.

“Hey….”

“What.”

“After that battle today... you’re not even going to sleep next to your wife?” QianHua whispered, stifling laughter.

Xinyi snorted and grabbed whatever piece of clothing was nearest to him and chucked it at him. “Go the fuck to sleep.”

Do not kill within Cloud Recesses.

Do not fight without permission.

Do not go out at night.

Do not make noise.

Do not walk too fast.

Do not laugh for no reason.

Do not sit with a disgraceful pose.

The words echoed over and over again. Ghostly white figures walked past him in a line, one after another. As the whispers grew distant and muddled, the figures faced him and moved in closer. The one directly in front of him was a middle-aged woman, her face lined with worries. Her soft eyes were upturned with sorrow and tears spilled over her cheeks.

“How could you kill me so easily?”

Her voice was filled with heavy sobs. Tears spilled out faster and stained her pale face.

“You didn’t even spare my daughter, who was only four years old.”

A man took her place, his features much harsher and filled with anger.

“How disgraceful you are, cutting up my corpse for him.”

A young boy around his age spoke next.

“My body was never found. I was read no burial rights. No one burned paper money for me at a shrine. Why do you get to live again while I’m trapped in restlessness?”

He turned away desperately, trying to escape the ghosts coming towards him.

“You were still laughing as you carved the flesh from my bones.”

He squeezed his eyes shut, covering his face with his hands.

“You turned me into a corpse and made me kill my own brother.”

“I was on my way to my wedding-”

“You killed my children in their beds-”

“You were still laughing-”

“Was it fun?”

The whispers disappeared and, slowly, he opened his eyes. Only one ghostly figure remained. A man who shined like moonlight, with pale skin like porcelain, who’s only flaw was white bandage wrapped around his eyes.

“Was it fun?”

Two red blotches appeared on the bandages where his eyes would be.

“Of course it was. It’s always fun for you.”

The red bled down his cheeks.

“Killing people… it’s just a game to you.”

His throat opened up and added to the red pouring from his eyes, blooming down the front his white robes.

“Was my death… fun?”

Xinyi opened his eyes. The room was still dark. Chen and QianHua were still asleep beside him. He sat up and kicked the blankets off of him, his weary gaze settling on the crouched silhouette in the corner. Was that Chen’s backpack and clothes piled up? He squinted, leaning forward into a kneeling position. The silhouette mirrored his actions and leaned forward. His heart lurched and he jumped to his feet, his fingers turning cold. The silhouette stood up and took a step forward.

It’s long, black hair was disheveled, the knot at the top half falling out of it’s ribbon. It’s clothes were loose and sloppily held together. It’s eyes were blank slates, no pupils to indicate what Xinyi already knew- that it was looking directly at him. He looked down at Chen and QianHua for a split second, and when he looked back, the man was gone. Not waiting for it to come back, he opened the door and slipped out into the hall.

“Xue Yang!”

The figure reappeared in the hallway, spitting the words out with one finger pointed up accusingly. Fear shot through Xinyi’s body like electricity and sent him flying down the corridor, paying no attention to which way he was going, not stopping until he nearly collided with the closed door of the artifact room. He yanked the door open, stepped into the room, and slammed it shut. On his hands and knees, Xinyi crawled across the floor and made himself as small as possible in the far corner of the room.

Just as his heart rate was finally returning to normal, the door began to slide open. He held his breath, hoping the ghost somehow wouldn’t find him if he didn’t move or make any noise. But the man that appeared in the doorway wasn’t disheveled or dressed in rags. He was dressed in a plain, white night robe and his hair was neatly combed down his back. Xiao Xingchen stood across from Xinyi, his eyes finding him in the dark immediately.

“Appreciating the art?”

Xinyi let out a heavy breath of relief. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

Xingchen smiled. “I was already awake.”

The light from Xingchen’s lamp illuminated the room as he came inside and closed the door behind him. He crossed the room and knelt in front of Xinyi, placing the lamp on the floor beside them.

“Nightmare?”

Xinyi nodded slowly. “How’d you guess?”

“It’s the middle of the night.” Xingchen replied, his smile widening. “And you’re hiding in the only room in the temple full of swords.”

He looked over at the wall of swords beside him, having not even noticed them until now, and broke out laughing. Or crying. Or both. He covered his face with his hands, trying not to let the other man see.

“Xinyi?” Xingchen reached a hand out and placed it on Xinyi’s knee.

After a moment, he dropped his hands, meeting Xingchen’s gaze.

“Did something else happen?”

Xiao Xingchen’s face showed such genuine concern it hurt Xinyi’s heart. Something about it made him want to laugh again, but another part of him wanted to tell Xingchen what he saw, confide in him about all the horrible nightmares he’s been having and how now he seemed to be plagued by restless spirits.

“Xingchen…” His fingers rubbed together anxiously. “What does… Xue Yang mean?”

The man’s body went rigid. The smile disappeared from his face and his gaze hardened. Xinyi regretted his question immediately. He wasn’t sure which was worse; the way Xingchen was looking at him or the fact that he recognized the words the ghost had shouted at him.

“Why are you asking me that?” He asked planely.

Feeling his nerves building up, Xinyi laughed quietly and looked away. “It’s nothing. It’s just nonsense from my dream.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

He clenched his fists. “Would you believe me if I said I heard it from a ghost?”

Xingchen was silent and Xinyi couldn’t help but look back up. To his relief, the angered expression he wore before had dissipated and his features were soft again. The man looked down at the flame from the lamp, wrapping his fingertips on the floor, drumming out that same beat from the day at the river. After running through the beat several times, Xingchen looked back at Xinyi.

“Every artifact in this temple is thousands of years old. The tapestries, the fans, and porcelain dishware. They all have ghosts attached to them. Most people aren’t sensitive enough to hear them.” Xingchen took Xinyi’s hand and held it between his own. “These restless spirits think only of why they’re trapped here. Time is frozen for them, so they don’t understand things like forgiveness or change. Your nightmares have made you vulnerable to them- you can hear them now.”

Xinyi swallowed hard, unsure of whether or not he believed what the man was saying. He didn’t want to believe it- that the ghosts he saw were real and that he was going to keep seeing them. Was it just one more horrible reality that he’d have to adjust to, like he had to adjust to the nightmares?

“Xue Yang.”

He looked up, startled to see that Xingchen had leaned in closer to him.

“It’s a name.” He looked to the right where JiangZai stood in its case. “The name of the man who owned that sword.”

#mdzs #mdzs fic #xuexiao #xue yang #xiao xingchen #jin ling #lan sizhui #lan jingyi #junior disciples #song lan

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bnha-dumpster · 5 years ago

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Shattering: Chapter 3

FIRST | PREVIOUS | Chapter 3 | NEXT

Shattering: A TodoBakuDeku x Reader fic (more TodoBaku with hints of Deku) Plot: After losing Deku and your two best friends, you didn’t think much more could be taken away from you. You’ve never been more wrong. Word count: 1.9K

a/n: chapter 3 babyyyyyy! i meant to post this yesterday oof

Musutafu: a place you’ve been avoiding for nearly four years. Along with that are the people you left behind and tried to forget about. Bile rises in your throat but Momo squeezes your hand. She’s been kind enough to sit next to you and reassure you the entire way there. You’ve never appreciated her personality more.

“Bakugou’s parents have agreed to let you stay with them for the next three days. I’m sure they’ll be happy to see you again. We’ll drop by before heading to the Ground Zero agency. Everyone’s there waiting for you.” Iida’s equally reassuring. They both provide you with a calm atmosphere, one that makes you feel much more at ease. Out of anyone to bring you back to Musutafu, you’re glad it’s them. Anyone else would probably create more anxiety than you’ve ever felt since high school.

You’re quiet when you pull up to the house. Mitsuki is standing outside, waiting for you. She still looks distraught but when you get out of the car and meet her gaze, her eyes light up just a little.

“I’m glad you decided to come back for a little, Y/N.” She ruffles your hair and grins as much as she can manage. “I was really surprised to see you the other day. You took a trip all the way from Akita City to see how I was doing. It’s really sweet of you.”

“It was the first thing I did when I heard about what happened. I just had to come here.”

“Masaru and I will take your bags so you can go see everyone. We’ll be here waiting for you.” She gives you a little more hair ruffling. “Smile, he’d want you to.”

“Right.”

“Alright, let’s go Y/N.” Momo tugs you back into the car. You let her tug you back in, waving at Mitsuki and Masaru as Iida drives away. You watch the buildings go by. Most of them are familiar, there’s a few that seem new, but it’s still Musutafu. It still feels like the place where you made so many good memories.

The Ground Zero agency looks like something that only Bakugou could ever come up with. The cheesy explosion graphics on the walls of the building paired with the color scheme of his costume remind you of him. You’re just thankful there isn’t anything involving the hero name he tried to use in his first year. It screams Bakugou, it really does. If you weren’t so nervous about seeing everyone again, you might’ve taken time to admire the building.

You let yourself be led out of the car and through the doors of the agency. Momo’s grip on your hand is tight as ever. It’s the only thing keeping you where you are. If it weren’t for Momo and her comforting smile, you’d be far away from the building. The door to the conference room is intimidating and your nervousness rises again.

“Don’t worry. They’re all excited to see you again.” Iida’s voice drags you out of your thoughts. He pushes the door open. The first thing you see is the red hair that made you run away when you tried to visit Bakugou’s parents. Kirishima’s eyes meet yours and you freeze in the doorway. Momo pushes you into the room before you can bolt- she can tell that’s what you want to do. The former classmates behind you block your only escape route.

“... I was supposed to give Bakugou a message from Midoriya all those years ago.” You don’t know why you said it, why those are the first words out of your mouth. It catches everyone off guard, naturally.

“Mi… Midoriya…” You watched it happen. Midoriya wasn’t acting right, so you had to follow him. You followed him up a few stories of the dorm building and watched helplessly as he used his Quirk to completely decimate a load bearing wall of the building. How you ended up on a ledge, slowly bleeding out as you hold on for dear life, is unclear.

You’re far too scared to look down. It’s unbecoming of a hero in training, it really is. The screams, the cries and confusion below you keep you from moving your gaze. In the middle of your vision, you can make out Midoriya’s form. He appears to be unharmed by what happened. It makes sense, he was the one who caused it all.

“Midoriya!” Your voice cracks hideously. But it catches his attention.

When he turns to face you, all you can see is the twisted grin. It’s an expression you’ve never seen before on him. The only way you can really describe his face is evil, sinister, disgusting- it makes you shudder. He walks over to where you hang on for dear life. There’s some flash of despair, maybe even regret. It’s there for only a second, but you can see it clear as day. Whatever personality that’s been revealed, there’s still a bit of him that cares for you- for everyone.

“Y/N…” Midoriya coos and kneels down in front of you. His rough hand holds your cheek far too gently for the way he’s acting. “Tell Kaachan something for me, okay?”

“What are you talking about...?”

He shushes you like you’re a small child having a tantrum. “Don’t waste your strength, Y/N. Just tell Kaachan that he was right, okay? I’m not a hero and I never will be, just like he said.”

“Midoriya, please…”

“Shh…” His hand leaves your cheek and he stands, letting his foot land on your hand. Barely any pressure needs to be put down for you to lose your grip.

You look down at your hands, thinking back to it.

“I never got the chance to, though… I’m sure he’s said it himself by now.” You don’t notice the way everyone tenses when you imply that Midoriya took him. Looking down at your hands, you sigh. There’s no way that it was anyone other than your former classmate who took Bakugou and Todoroki. Who else would be able to? Midoriya had always been fascinating with other people’s Quirks. The many notebooks he has detailing Quirks are more than enough proof.

“Do you really think it was Midoriya, Y/N?”

“Of course,” you answer Kirishima without hesitation. “Midoriya took notes on all of our Quirks when we were in UA. He grew up with Bakugou. There’s no one else who would know Bakugou’s Quirk so well. I mean, think about it. Who would be able to catch Bakugou and Todoroki off guard? He’s the only one.”

“You’re not wrong…”

The room is dark and it has a light smell of blood. If one were to light up the room, dried blood would be the first thing you’d notice. But it’s kept in the dark for one reason: the two people kept in the room.

Bakugou is reminded of when he was taken by the League in his first year at UA. Tied to a chair with chains, the hefty Quirk-Cancelling cuffs around his wrists. The only new addition is the metal muzzle, one that reminds him of the first year Sport’s Festival and his undesirable victory. He feels like a dog, muzzled and chained to a fence for bad behavior. Whenever he lurches against them, the metal digs into his skin.

Todoroki is the same, and yet, not. While the Quirk-Cancelling cuffs are on him as well and he’s chained quite similarly to his blond companion. The only real difference is the lack of a metal muzzle. Perhaps it’s due to the hero’s calmer temperament compared to Bakugou. At least, most of the time.

Neither of them are sure of how close they are to each other. Even with their eyes adjusted to the dark, it’s hard to make out anything. Besides the two of them, nothing else seems to be present in the room. It's a situation meant to deprive them of any material to escape. No windows, no light, only the darkness and the clanking of chains.

The lock of the door clicks and they both look in the direction of the door. It creaks open, revealing the person they want to see the least.

“I have some interesting news.” Midoriya’s silhouette is all they can really see, but they have a feeling that he’s grinning. “Y/N is back! Apparently, he’s staying at your mom’s house, Kaachan. Maybe I should pay them a visit? I’d love to see Y/N again.”

Lunging towards Midoriya, Bakugou growls. It’s animalistic, barely human. He’s pissed. There’s a good chance that the person in front of him would actually do that.

“Now, now, Kaachan. I’m just joking! I’m sure he’s only come back since you two have gone missing. That’s sad, isn’t it? Being abandoned by him all these years and only when you’re in trouble, he shows up. Though, he did look a little hesitant to go in, supposedly. I was told that Momo was leading Y/N by hand like taking a little kid somewhere they’ve never been before,” Midoriya rambles, something that’s managed to remain the same throughout the years.

“Leave Y/N alone.” Hostility is clear in Todoroki’s tone. He glares at Midoriya and looks like he might try to bite the villain’s head off. “Y/N stopped training to be a hero because of you. He left because of you.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.” Midoriya leans and gives the hero a little pat on the head. “No one knows what happened except for him.”

Todoroki and Bakugou watch as he turns around and leaves the room, the lock on the door clicking once again. They’re left in the room with each other now.

“Do you really think Y/N came to Musutafu for us?” It’s one of the few times Bakugou’s voice isn’t angry. He even sounds hesitant.

“If he is in Musutafu, I really wonder why. No contact in four years and now he’s seen with Momo? It doesn’t make sense.” Todoroki sighs. “I doubt he’ll be around very long, though.”

“Fuck. I wish I could see him.”

“Me too, Bakugou.”

“Heh, I haven’t thought about the Sport’s Festival in forever.” On a wall in the Bakugou household there’s a framed picture of the Sport’s Festival from your second year. You ended up getting eliminated in the first round along with a few others. The first round involved a portion of ice and extremely cold temperatures. Both you and Tsuyu couldn’t make it past the portion. The two of you spent the rest of the festival cheering on your classmates. Your parents had traveled up to watch you and kindly lent you their camera to take pictures of everyone. A good portion of them were funny looking, taken at silly types. You made private copies of those for everyone and gave parents the more serious ones. Though, you gave Mitsuki a framed picture of Bakugou yelling angrily on the third place podium.

“It does feel like forever ago.” The woman mentioned wraps an arm around your shoulder and pulls you close to ruffle your hair. “I wish that third place humbled him a bit.”

“I doubt anything would really humble Bakugou.” You laugh to yourself. “Everything just made him more and more stubborn. You know, I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s hiding a bit longer to avoid your scolding.”

“Of course he is.” She has a hopeful smile on her face.

“It’s all going to be okay, I know it.”

“I hope you’re right, Y/N.”

#fic: shattering #todobaku x reader #todobakudeku x reader

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yanara126-writing · 4 years ago

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A Death in Your Name - Twilight Town (2/5)

How can one mortal soul be so important to a god?

You misunderstand. I'm not Galawain or Magran, I'm not used to people dying for me.

And yet they do. Some willingly, some not.

Iovara's sister, inquisitor and high priestess of Eothas', has made a mistake, her way of righting it impacts more things than she's expected. Perhaps Iovara has more in common with a certain god than she likes and perhaps Eothas should rethink his actions, or lack thereof, if he doesn't like the consequences.

A memory of better times.

Read here or on Ao3

Have fun! Comments always welcome! :)

Emblyn sat right on the edge of the tower, watching wistfully as the sun was slowly beginning to set, casting a lovely red glow over the city. The sound of many wings in different sizes flapping behind her was a familiar background noise by now. She still wasn’t entirely sure she was actually allowed to be up here, but no one had ever told her otherwise, which was enough permission for her in this case.

The warmth of the day paled in comparison to the warmth she felt blooming inside herself. She’d finally done it. After years of struggling in the wrong place, she had now managed to fulfil her dream and become a missionary. She’d been ordained together with five others in a simple ceremony and had received her first mission. Tomorrow she’d leave at dawn. But today she would enjoy her last day in the place she’d come to call home.

“What a strange place to find an Eothas missionary.” Emblyn flinched at the sudden words from behind her, nearly falling off the ledge, then turned, a beaming smile on her face. She’d recognize that voice anywhere, even after years of separation.

“Iovara!” she called joyfully, jumping up into her sister’s open arms. Iovara laughed and so they stood there embracing each other for what felt like an eternity, just relishing in the other’s presence.

“I came when I heard you’d finally get your own blessing. I was a bit late, so I stood in the back, but I saw the whole ceremony,” Iovara mumbled into her shorter sister’s hair.

They hadn’t seen each other since Iovara had left for her own mission years ago. Emblyn held her a bit tighter.

After a few moments Emblyn relinquished her hold on her sister, stepping away a little and looking her over. Iovara had changed little at first glance, but for someone who knew her well the small changes were obvious. The lines in her face were a little harder, she’d gained a short scar under her jaw, but she still held herself in the same confident, self-assured way. And her eyes had the same warm shine, though that shine suddenly had a mischievous glint to it.

“Are you sure I’m not a wizard in disguise yet?” she asked with a sly grin on her face. Emblyn let out a sharp breath and slapped her sister on the shoulder.

“I worry about you and that’s how you repay me! Doesn’t seem terribly just, does it, oh honoured priestess of the Oathbinder Queen?” she asked, a teasing lilt in her voice. They both giggled. Oh, how she’d missed her sister.

“Well, oh priestess of the Child of Light, however can I redeem myself? Oh, I know, maybe with this,” Iovara said and pulled a small pouch out of her cloak. Emblyn’s eyes grew wide.

“Are those honey crystals?” Iovara only grinned and shook the bag, producing slight clinking sound. Emblyn could feel herself start to drool. Honey crystals were hard to come by here, as the honey either needed to be left alone for months or be cooled down to temperatures impossible to achieve in these warm climates.

“Well, in that case, I suppose I can forgive you. Of course only under the condition that you intend to share these,” Emblyn said, doing her best to sound serious and not stare too hard at the desired pouch.

Iovara laughed again and sat down on the ledge, her sister following her promptly. They opened the bag and together started decimating it’s content. Occasionally, a bird would fly over, curious about the possible food in their hands, and they had to wave it away, careful to not the let bag fall off the tower, before digging in again with gusto. Only when the first craving was sated and their fingers properly sticky, did they slow down enough to actually have a conversation.

“You haven’t actually answered my question,” Iovara declared into the comfortable silence. The answer she received was an indecipherable grumbling and she looked at her sister with a disapproving, raised eyebrow. Emblyn blushed and grumbled something else, yet dutifully keeping her mouth shut, finishing the honey crystals in her mouth. Once she finished, she swallowed once and then repeated her answer.

“I said, you haven’t asked me a question.” Iovara rolled her eyes.

“You know what I meant, but fine, be like that. I want to know why you’re up here. The bird sanctuary of the Hylea temple is hardly where I expected to find you.” Once again Emblyn found herself blushing, though she wasn’t certain why.

“I just... I like the view from up here. And since I leave tomorrow, I wanted to see it one last time,” she responded, avoiding her sister’s eyes. It’s not that it wasn’t true, but for some reason the sentimentality suddenly embarrassed her. She looked out over city again, where the sun was halfway sunken behind the horizon now. A warm smile bloomed on her face and the embarrassment faded.

“Isn’t the sunset beautiful?” Iovara looked at her with a puzzled expression.

“Not that I disagree, but isn’t that a rather strange sentiment for an Eothas priestess?” she asked. Emblyn looked over to her again, the gentle smile still on her lips. Iovara thought it a fitting expression for her, much better than the shy nervousness she’d worn before Iovara’s departure. The thought sent a twinge of guilt through her, but she banished it quickly. Emblyn was better now, and Iovara was determined to enjoy the time they had left together, before they would both have to leave again.

“You think so? But the night is what must come before the dawn, it’s the natural course of life. I like to think the last, colourful light He shines for us is Him saying goodbye for the day, and promising to return in the morning. Just like you came to say goodbye to me as well,” Emblyn answered, her dark hair shimmering in the dimming light. Iovara smiled, her sister really had found her place and she was glad for it, even if it wasn’t the same as her’s. A thought flashed through her mind.

“Would you let me braid your hair again? It’s been so long, my fingers are itching to do a fishtail again.” Emblyn was a bit surprised at the request, but concurred immediately. She’d always liked it when Iovara braided her hair. After their parents had passed away, it had been one of the few comforts she’d had left. Though she’d always been a bit jealous of Iovara’s seemingly effortless beauty. Nothing was effortless she knew now. Sitting on that tower and basking in the fading light of the sun with her older sister’s hands in her hair again, she remembered the times when her world had seemed the darkest.

The first had been after a plague had killed their parents. They’d both been children with nowhere to go, but Iovara had taken charge, had packed the few things they’d had and dragged her to the nearest missionaries, asking to become acolytes. They’d been brought to the city and had been given a new life, and the darkness had ended.

The second had been after Iovara had already left. Emblyn had been at fault herself that day, and still she was ashamed for her actions. There was no excuse for her mistakes and for a while she’d wanted to run and never look back. But master Thaos had convinced her that there were better ways to do penance, and so she’d left her place at the Woedica temple and had instead become an Eothas acolyte.

Sitting on that tower, Emblyn thanked Eothas once again, for showing her the way to dawn.

Iovara meanwhile had other thoughts, mainly regret. Her sister’s silky locks between her fingers and seeing her happiness made her realize the mistake she’d made in just simply dragging her along. In her defence, she’d also been a child back then, but still, the Woedica temple obviously hadn’t been the right place for Emblyn. She’d been unhappy, and Iovara could see that now. Her sister had bloomed in the Eothas clergy and difference was jarring. Still, she couldn’t bring herself to apologize. Perhaps it was selfish of her, but in a way she hoped, that as long as she didn’t acknowledge it, no one would know of her error.

The same way she had yet to acknowledge the reason her sister came to the Eothas temple in the first place. She knew only what master Thaos had told her, which wasn’t much. Just that Emblyn had had a serious lapse in judgement and had tearfully begged to be allowed to leave the order, claiming not even the gods would be able to forgive her. Iovara hadn’t asked further.

“How did you know where to find me anyway.” The sudden question startled Iovara out of her thoughts. She shook her head and did her best to find the joy from before again. It wouldn’t do to waste their precious little time on useless deliberation.

“Since I couldn’t find you in the actual temple, and no one else could tell me, I went and asked master Thaos. He told me to look up here. So, there you go,” she said, finishing the braid and giving it one light tug.

Emblyn went red again and lowered her head, mumbling an affirmation. Of course he knew she went up here. There seemed to be nothing he didn’t know.

When she looked up again, she noticed that the sky had gone almost completely dark in the meantime. They should go down again soon, they’d both have to be up at dawn the next morning. Not she ever wasn’t these days.

Emblyn voiced her thoughts and Iovara agreed, but stopped her for a few more moments.

“Before we go, I have a gift for you.” She pulled a dagger in a sheath from her hip and handed it to Emblyn. “It’s good steel. Trust me, you’ll need it out in the world. May it always protect you when you need it.” Even though the words sounded rather ominous, Iovara still smiled as she watched her sister pull the dagger out and admire it.

Emblyn looked the weapon over. It certainly seemed very good quality, though she wasn’t an expert on that. Every future missionary had to have at least basic weapon’s training, but she’d taken more to the flail than blades, and even then, she didn’t like violence. Nonetheless she appreciated the gift.

Emblyn carefully put the dagger away again, tied the sheath to her belt and then jumped at her sister once again, causing Iovara to flinch slightly from surprise, before relaxing into the hug.

“Thank you.” Iovara didn’t answer the whisper of gratitude, but she didn’t need to, Emblyn understood her nonetheless.

A colourful bird interrupted their hug finally, as it settled in Iovara’s head, proudly squawking. Emblyn giggled as Iovara made a face, not daring to move, in fear of the bird pulling on her hair. Emblyn gently lured it away with the last few crumbs of the honey crystals and put it back on one of the many wooden rods sticking out of the walls.

They both wordlessly decided to take that as their signal to leave, and Iovara did certainly not flee, thank you very much.

Together they made their way down the tower, telling stories of their little adventures and walking side by side towards the dawn of a new day.

#Pillars of Eternity #Eothas #Iovara #tragedy #fanfiction #writing #The Watcher #Iovara's sister #religion #sibling love #finding peace #Thaos #hypocrisy #from everyone really #grief #mourning #flashback #kh refrence fully intended #Watcher Favaen

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returnn-of-the-mac · 5 years ago

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I love the way you write the companions! Especially X6! Companions react to Sole giving them nicknames based on pre-war movies?

Thank you! X6 is one of my favorite characters to write (along with Ada and Danse)! Sorry this took so long, there were a few characters I struggled with (looking @u gage & preston). Also, again, I usually write a silent Sole, but I couldn’t for this one, obviously. Please enjoy!😄

Fo4 Companions React: Sole Giving Them Pre-War Movie Nicknames

Strong:

Strong and Sole where walking around Sanctuary when the super mutant heard rustling in the bushes.

“COME OUT, PUNY RADROACH! STRONG SMASH YOU INTO THE GROUND!”

Sole smirked, “Easy there, Hulk. It’s just Dogmeat.”

Strong scratched his head, “Who Hulk? He a Radroach?”

Danse:

Sole was in Danse’s quarters as the Paladin was trying on some new patriotic power armor he had designed. He stepped out in his red, white, and blue mechanical suit and twisted around a bit to show Sole.

“What do you think,” He asked, “Is it too much?”

Sole giggled, “You kinda look like Optimus Prime.”

“You mean Liberty Prime?”

“Nope. I mean Optimus Prime. He’s a Cybertronian from a pre-war movie called Transformers.” Sole explained.

“Cybertron? Is that like a synth,” Danse scoffed, “Cuz I’d be damned if I looked like a synth.”

“Well, no. Cybertron is the planet they’re from. It’s complicated, but it’s basically a fictional species of robots that can transform from ordinary objects. Like cars.”

A confused Danse gave his companion an acknowledging nod, “Ah, okay. That actually sounds pretty interesting. Maybe the Brotherhood could start crafting armor based off of these ...uh...’Cybertronians.’ You’re going to have to show me sometime, soldier.”

Nick:

“Hmm...” Nick pondered, looking over his latest case, “This Marowski fellow seems to be up to no good, yet again. His chem lab is more secure this time too...I’m thinking we’re going to have to tinker around with some scrap and invent a device to break into there undetected.”

“And what do you suggest we create, Inspector Gadget?”

Nick rolled his eyes. “Ha ha. Very funny. I happen to who that is, you know.”

MacCready:

MacCready and Sole where camping out at Outpost Zimonja for the night, lying under the stars, next to a campfire.

“You know what stinks,” Macready began, “Being an adult. So much is expected of you, and all the other adults are all just a buncha bullies.”

Sole gazed at their companion and he continued, “I swear, the kids at Little Lamplight were more mature than at least half the mungos in the Commonwealth. I wish I’d never had grown up...I wish I could’ve stayed a kid forever.”

“Okay, Peter Pan,” Sole laughed, “Growing up is a part of life. Everyone goes through it. Society wouldn’t thrive if people didn’t get older.”

MacCready was still caught up on the first part of Sole’s statement. “Peter...who? Who’s that?”

“Peter Pan. He was a mythical boy who never grew up, and he lead a group called The Lost Boys in Neverland. They’d go on adventures and stuff. It was a story that got adapted into a popular pre-war movie,” Sole explained.

MacCready was captivated by the description. “That seems...awesome, actually! Can you tell me more about it?”

Ada:

Sole and Ada were trekking through the wilderness just beyond the glowing sea when a RadStrorm hit. Adamant about making it to their destination, Sole continued to their journey, despite the wind, rain, and rads.

“[Sir/Ma’am],” Ada beckoned, “Being that I am non-organic, these rads don’t have an effect on me. You, however, might get sick if we continue.”

Sole ignored Ada and continued to press forward. Ada tried again.

“[Sir/Ma’am]? It is highly likely that you will not be able to successfully complete your mission if you were to fall ill.”

Sole, once again, ignored their companion and continued forward. Ada, ardent about keeping her companion healthy, tried a third time.

“[Sir/Ma’am]? I believe I saw an abandoned barn a few miles back. We could camp there for the night.”

Sole stopped and gave Ada a stern look. “C-3PO. Please. Be quiet for just a minute. I can’t even hear myself think.”

Ada beeped a few times. “I am unfamiliar who this model C-3-P-O is. My model number A-D-4.”

Piper:

“Okay, look. I think we’re really gonna get him this time, Blue,” Piper began, peeking through her binoculars at an unsuspecting Mayor McDonough, “Oh! Oh! Look! He put the toilet paper on the holder flap-side-up. Mm-hmm. Definitely a synth.”

Sole raised an eyebrow, “And what’s your master plan here? We gonna break in there and catch him in the act of changing his toilet paper, Lucy Stevens? Kinda not a good look.”

Piper cocked her head to the side, “Lucy...Stevens? Who’s that?”

Sole giggled, “She’s a reporter from one of my favorite pre-war movies.”

Piper smirked, “And what movie would that be?”

“Detective Pikachu.”

Gage:

Sole and Gage were building a raider base when suddenly Gage stopped hammering.

“Hey, got any more nails over there? Can’t see for shit with this eyepatch.”

Sole rolled their eyes and handed the raider the container of nails, “Why don’t you just take it off then? I know you have a fully-functional eyeball under there.”

“Yeah but it’s part of the image.”

“Alright, One-eyed Willie.”

“The fuck is that?” Gage asked, “You pickin on me, boss?”

Hancock:

Hancock and Sole were hanging out in Hancock’s quarters listening to the radio, taking hits of jet, and drinking whiskey.

“This is niice,” Hancock mused, taking a long hit of jet, “Sometimes ya need a break from running the city, yanno?”

Sole nodded.

Suddenly, the song changed and Hancock grunted. “I hate this one. It kills the vibe in here.”

As he got up to change the station, drink in hand, a random Goodneighbor resident barreled into the room, nearly knocking the mayor over.

“Woah, friend, I’ve got a beverage here.” It was then the ghoul noticed he had spilled his drink all over himself and the rug. “Ah, come on, brother. That was a new rug.”

“Easy there, Lebowski,” Sole consoled, standing up and putting a hand on their companion’s shoulder, “Whiskey shouldn’t be too difficult to clean off a rug.”

“Sorry Hancock,” the resident apologized, “But your friend here is right. I mean it is practically water.”

Cait:

Cait and Sole were crouched behind a stack of boxes, fully prepared to ambush a group of raiders who were holding an innocent settler hostage.

“Can’t wait to use this new machete ye gave me,” Cait gushed, excitedly studying the weapon, “Never have had the chance to use one of these before.”

Sole smiled.

“Ready darlin?”

“Ready.”

The pair sprung out from their hiding spot and began their onslaught. Sole took cover behind an old desk, shooting at the raiders with ease and Cait decapitated them with her machete.

“I’m just gettin warmed up, ye clowns!”

The redhead suddenly ran up a side wall and did a flip, slicing two raiders heads off at the same time. Sole lowered their weapon and watched in awe as their partner singlehandedly decimated the raiders with her melee weapon. When the last raider was taken out, Cait took a little bow.

“Damn, Uma Thurman! Leave some for me next time,” Sole joked.

“Couldn’t help it. This machete is way too much fun.”

Deacon:

Deacon and Sole were hiding in an air vent, preparing to take out some synths as asked by Drummer Boy, when Deacon started fumbling around.

“What are you doing?” Sole whispered harshly, annoyed by their partner’s commotion.

“I’m due for an image change,” Deacon answered matter-of-factly, taking his shirt off, “I’ve been in my Elvis Presley Wannabe disguise for two hours now.”

Sole clenched their teeth in frustration.

“What do you think I should go for? The intelligent Bald Doc or intimidating Street Punk?”

“How about the bumbling Austin Powers?”

Deacon chuckled, “Yeah bAbY! I’m flattered you would even suggest that. Such a cool character.”

Sole rolled their eyes as Deacon began to dress as the iconic British spy.

Curie:

Curie and Sole were walking along the coast of Salem when the synth suddenly stopped. Sole turned around, concerned.

“You okay, Curie?”

The synth looked at Sole and smiled. “Oui. I was just thinking...thank you so much for giving me the opportunity to exist in human form.”

“No problem! I’m just glad you’re happy.”

Curie nodded, “It’s not like I wasn’t happy being in my old body it’s just...I can do so much more now in this new body. Do field work, collaborate, share my findings and be taken seriously. That and...this body is very flattering. Much more attractive than metal and bolts.”

Sole laughed, “Hey, I thought your EVE form was adorable.”

“Eve? Who is that?”

“She was a character— a robot— from a pre-war movie called WALL-E.”

“I see...well, that is very interesting, [Madame/Monsieur]!”

Longfellow:

“Damn snow. I hate the North. Move me to the tropics,” Longfellow complained as he and Sole walked through a light snow flurry.

“It’s not even that bad,” Sole reassured, “Besides, what would Christmas be without snow?”

“I don’t care about Christmas. Got no family to celebrate it with anyway.”

“Oh come on, Scrooge,” Sole teased, “We can celebrate Christmas together if you want.”

“Yeah, you’re right. I am old Ebenezer. Bah humbug,” Longfellow grumpily muttered, taking a shot of whiskey.

X6-88:

X6 and Sole were on a mission tag a synth with a tracking beacon when Sole suddenly stopped.

“Is something wrong, [sir/ma’am]?” the synth asked, concerned.

“No it’s just...what would you look like without your glasses? I’ve never seen you take them off. Do you even have eyes under there?”

X6 nodded, “Of course I have eyes. The glasses make me look slick. More professional, if you will.”

“You look like Morpheus from The Matrix.”

“And he was an influential individual, was he not?”

Sole remained silent.

“Case in point, [sir/ma’am].”

Preston:

Sole had just returned to Sanctuary after a lengthy fight with some gunners with Preston beckoned to them.

“Another settlement needs our help,” he began, “The settlers at Nordhagen beach are complaining about a wobbly chair and—“

Sole raised their hand in the air, “Do it yourself, Fix-it-Felix,” they mumbled before retreating to their room for a nap.

Codsworth:

Sole and Codsworth were in their old house, assembling furniture and reminiscing about the past.

“This was such a happy home before the bombs dropped. I wish we could go back to it, [sir/mum].”

Sole nodded in agreement as they discovered old photographs in cracked frames. Codsworth hovered over to examine Sole’s finding.

“Ah! That photograph! That was the first day you adopted me,” the robot gushed, “I’m so glad you chose the name Codsworth and not any of the absurd names the [hubby/wife] was suggesting.”

Sole laughed, “But Codsworth was their idea! I was going to name you BB-8.”

“Seriously? Why? Just because I’m round and I’m a robot?”

“Exactly!”

Codsworth huffed in annoyance and floated away from an amused Sole.

#fallout 4 #fallout #fo4 #danse #paladin danse #hancock #deacon #maccready #piper #curie #x6 #x6 88 #ada #strong #codsworth #nick valentine #longfellow #gage #porter gage #cait #react

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thebreakfastreport-blog · 4 years ago

Text

Trying Not To Learn

My favorite documentary is called Hearts and Minds. It's a 1974 protest film about the Vietnam War (released while the war was still happening), and there's a scene in there that is lingering in my head. They interview a pilot who did countless bombing missions and you get to watch a real-time revelation take place as he talks about how Americans have never experienced the level of devastation that we were unleashing upon the Vietnamese. He talks about how he never had to see a child burned by napalm from his position in the cockpit. He then thinks about his own children having to suffer from what he was dropping from the air, and he breaks down crying. After a pause, the interviewer asks, "do you think we've learned anything from all of this?" To which the pilot responds, "I think we're trying not to."

youtube

I feel like this is the darkest truth of the American identity. We refuse to even acknowledge when we do something wrong. I remember being told when I was younger that the Vietnam War ended in "a tie." That we've never lost a war. That we're a perfect nation, that we represent freedom, yet our history is laced with absolute atrocities. We have to say #blacklivesmatter because we apparently need to be reminded. I grew up in Saginaw Township and now I live east of the river, and having done a ton of interviews for my documentary, for non-profits, for community organizations trying to make positive change, I wanted to share some thoughts. I do not intend this as a manor of virtue signaling, but a message to my white friends who still may not get it. Please feel free to jump in with corrections if I misspeak. I'm a work in progress, and I'm angry.

There is White America and there is Black America. White America, at large, doesn't seem to care about Black America. The Township attitude towards the east side that I remember was that people "over there" are just lazy, that they need to pull themselves up by the bootstraps. Racist passing remarks about welfare queens, broad stereotypes, and the overt use of slurs. I remember being stuck in a conversation with someone at an event in Bay City, and when I told them I was involved with community work in Saginaw, he lowered his voice, leaned in closer, and said, "You wanna know what the real problem is? All those monkeys running around shootin' eachother."

My generation was raised to think the older generation dealt with these problems in the 60s. We were told that a black man made a speech that made us all feel better. We were told about Jim Crow like it was just as far away as slavery. We never learned about redlining. We never learned about the string of race riots that were started by false rumors which prompted white people to burn entire black neighborhoods and kill people in the streets. We didn't talk about domestic terrorism by white supremacists, and today we continue to refuse to acknowledge that it even exists ("Very fine people on both sides," said the President of the United States on neo-nazi's marching in the streets, yelling about Jews, and murdering an innocent person). We didn't learn about discriminatory (but "colorblind") legislation that absolutely decimated black communities. We didn't talk about how the dream of a national interstate highway system came at the expense of the complete annihilation of black neighborhoods. We didn't learn about the war on drugs in any meaningful way other than "don't do drugs." We didn't learn about the prevalence of police brutality. We didn't learn about the Klan being directly integrated with the Sheriff's Department. We were taught the Pledge of Allegiance and told to respect the badge.

This country is fucked. This is why the youth is so disillusioned. An entire part of the country is in this bullshit daydream, just distanced enough from the real problems of the world so they can look down upon them. Sitting in a suburban enclave, never once being targeted for driving down the street while white. When I was a teenager, I made a short film where I wore all black and had a convincing rifle with a scope on it, all for a dumb student film about a "hitman." And then I think about Tamir Rice and realize that making a dumb skit could've cost me my life if I was black and in a different zipcode.

This has been simmering for decades. Centuries. We've never settled racial tensions in America. Riots don't happen because people want to steal a TV. That's called opportunism. Unrest comes from a deep, deep place that White America has never understood. Nor has White America even tried to listen in any earnest way. Any discussion of race is treated as if you're fanning flames. Any critique of police brutality is taken as an assault on police, and you can see the projection take place in real time as white people are quick to make an assumption on the "deservedness" of a murder, based on the fact that the victim is black.

If you're a police officer reading this, and you're thinking about how these are things that YOU don't do, good for you. That's great. We need this type of shit to stop and maybe you are part of the solution. Maybe there's workplace accountability that needs to happen. I shouldn't need to show you the photo of the group of police officers standing by while George Floyd was murdered. If you think someone deserves to be choked to death for a counterfeit $20 or selling loose cigarettes, and I mean this with all the respect I can muster, go fuck yourself. The seriousness of this problem has me struggling to be less candid on social media, but living in a predominantly black neighborhood, feeling the lack of resources firsthand, getting a sinking feeling of hopelessness as White America obliviously flounders about, bursting with entitlement in an SUV full of today's haul from Bed Bath and Beyond.... I'm just furious. I'm furious that my friends are targeted and beaten for being black, yet it can't even be explained without a white person attempting to diminish the experience. I'm tired of White America thinking that being poor and white and being poor and black is the same thing, and being lectured with self-righteous tales of endurance, while my black friends tell me about family homes being stripped away; family landmarks being destroyed. Stories that require an unimaginable level of endurance and tenacity, while the biggest complaint in White America is that we can't get haircuts right now. Something is going to give, and it's not going to be good.

I don't even know what else to say. In doing my documentary, I remember being stunned by the glaring differences between the way white people and black people talked about Milton Hall's murder. Yet somehow, I have found that discussions around race with the black community are productive while the conversation can't even begin with white people. The feeling of helplessness really sets in when you realize we're not even living in the same reality. My fascination with old buildings and trying to understand what happened to downtown Saginaw morphed into the realization that nearly every single change in the last 80 years has been soaked in racism. I know people love to say "slavery was 150 years ago," but that's just a chapter in the Black American experience. In fact, it's chapter one. Keep reading. Listen more. Just shut up and listen. For the first time in history, Black America has a platform that doesn't need to go through CNN to reach millions of people. And they're sharing video after video of police brutality. The murder of George Floyd was exceptionally brazen, yet it just seems like "another one." Being a respectable nation takes consistent effort, and I feel like half the country has just given up.

#blacklivesmatter #george floyd #saginaw michigan

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aelaer · 5 years ago

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So I have a request: A Stephen who, in the Canon compliant universe, returns to the Sanctum for the first time in 5 years, breaks down and is completely devastated and exhausted from everything that happened. And then a time skip, to Stephen now having moved on, in acceptance. He may still feel a little guilty, but is immensly thankful for intimately knowing the beautiful souls who sacrificed themselves and resolved to cherish and celebrate their lives with their friends and family.

So my goal for this was to keep it under 1500 words. I completely failed that goal.

But that is what I am going to attempt to do with my ask prompts (should I get any more in the future), mostly because I have three multi-chapter stories completely spiraling out of control (and a fourth that needs its last chapter completed) and I will never get my Stephen Strange bingo card done by November if I keep on writing these super long things for every square XD

I’m not terribly pleased with the ending but oh well. Nothing was coming for days and I figured I sat on this for long enough.

Fill for @stephenstrangebingo square ‘It’s not your fault’. Warning for canon compliance and my obsessive need to explain away plot-holes with magic-science for a few paragraphs before actually addressing the prompt :P

Title: Black TagRating: GenPairings: NoneWord count: About 3k

The sun was setting over a celebratory New York City when Stephen came again to the New York Sanctum after five years gone. The powers that surrounded the building muffled the cheers and shouts and crying out on Bleecker Street from all the locals, unaware that the man who had helped instigate all their suffering was within the neighborhood.

It had been well over thirty hours since he had come back with the rest of the Disappeared. He was done with giving his report to the other Masters of Kamar-Taj and done with his part in what immediate reorganization was needed for their order. They had finally let him go to rest; he was alone. Wong, for instance, was still settling things as one of those who had survived the Decimation, and still helping others come to terms with what had passed.

And now, now all Stephen could think of was bed. He had washed up a bit in Kamar-Taj, thankfully, for he did not know if he would have had the stamina to do it now. The Cloak more-or-less carried him to his room as his body trembled, complete exhaustion overwhelming his entire being. He fell asleep near instantly.

It wasn’t until twelve hours later, as the dawn broke through his (unnatural) window to an untarnished view of the eastern coastline, that his exhaustion had dimmed to weariness and his mind had time to sort through everything that had happened.

Stephen had not spent his five years gone idle; unlike most other souls that were caught within the Soul Stone due to Thanos, he had an awareness of consciousness due to his connection to the Mystic Arts that made him able to utilize his time, even if time was not something he could feel passing. In those five years he had drawn power from the Soul Stone, a continuous draw into his own spirit to prepare for what he had to do upon his return.

(He knew, of course, that the Stone’s housing was disintegrated into atoms back in 2018. However, its raw energy was not actually gone, just scattered like the rest of the Infinity Stones. The first rule of thermodynamics was something Thanos did not consider, or maybe he did not care so long as that power was not easily obtainable for some time to come. In the end, he supposed it really didn’t matter.)

When he came to on Titan once more, he spared a minute briefly explaining the situation to the others, then asked for complete silence as he got them back to Earth, and more; for he had taken his borrowed energy to send a mental message to all warriors across the universe that he had found within the Soul Stone: The one who sent you away for five years must be defeated. Prepare for battle.

And then he made portals. So many fucking portals, portals he had no business having the ability to create, portals connected to the locations of those warriors across the universe, portals created with the power of the Soul Stone accumulated over five years and fully spent over the course of five minutes.

It was a damned miracle he had anything left in him for battle, but the Soul Stone was unlike any power source he had ever used before, including the Time Stone. Channeling the energy of Infinity Stones was unique to the standard rules of magic already, but the Soul Stone’s power was— indescribable.

So he had been able to battle. To hold himself up. And to watch as people from all over the universe, both the newly resurrected and those that had lived in a broken world, were slaughtered by Thanos’s armies. Slaughtered and with no way to return, not this time; he had used the Time Stone once to reverse death, and he had paid the price with several (hundreds, thousands) of his own deaths.

But the fabric of reality surrounding the battlefield was already torn by the combined actions of both the Avengers and Thanos, and it would tear even further with the final sacrifice; to use the Stones again at that moment, even one, was to rip the threads of the universe to pieces.

And so the dead remained dead.

Even though Stephen knew this, knew the logic behind his actions, knew that in triage situations, some people got the black tag— it did not stop his stomach from twisting into a knot as he lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling and weighed down by the consequences of his actions.

In the silence and loneliness of the Sanctum, even while logic echoed in his head, guilt settled in the depths of Stephen’s core and began to make a home there.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Despite pretending everything was okay and despite going through the motions of his duties, the guilt grew into a beast that swiftly consumed Stephen’s being. He felt little need to eat and his sleep was plagued with new nightmares that caused him to work himself into exhaustion (and thus dreamless nights).

By the time Tony’s funeral arrived, he had lost several pounds and the raccoon eyes were becoming more prominent. A small glamour spell helped conceal that, but still Wong looked at him with thinly-veiled concern.

“Are you sure that the invitation was not just for you?” Stephen asked as he found a suit, miraculously still intact after years (literally years) of no wear.

“Of course I’m sure,” Wong said slowly, his voice carefully even. “You were mentioned by name.”

“Ah.” He cleared his throat. “I’ll be ready in time, then.”

Wong was still looking at him with that expressionless and yet all-knowing look, so Stephen turned away and went to the ensuite bathroom to avoid uncomfortable questions. They didn’t have time to prod into that right now.

After all, it would be rather rude of him to be late to the funeral of a man he had black tagged.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

His lack of regular meals and general lack of care for eating was a new thing for him in this post-Thanos world (but he just didn’t have time for such trivial pursuits as food, not when he had five years to catch up on and a very damaged border between realities to monitor, to attempt to repair). Stephen got away with not really eating anything substantial for two weeks after Tony’s funeral.

Apparently someone (probably Wong) noticed this and the trend came to an abrupt halt.

It started with the steward of the New York Sanctum. The steward’s role fulfilled the very real need of seeing to the general care and maintenance of the very magical and rather finicky building; it could only be fully overseen by a fully-trained disciple while its Master was dealing with the mystical threats in their part of the world. Stephen’s steward had been snapped into oblivion at the same time as he and was replaced with someone who spoke very little English. He remained at the post after the return of the Disappeared and generally avoided him, which was all well and good for Stephen. However, two weeks after the funeral, his steward was suddenly transferred to London (with no input asked from him either, the nerve) and the London steward came to New York.

His new steward was a woman: Italian, about sixty years old, five feet tall, and potentially the scariest woman he had ever met.

If anyone ever discovered his thoughts on the matter, they might wonder how that was possible when Stephen had been under the tutelage of the Ancient One. To him, she was the most powerful woman he had ever known, but he did not equivocate power with terror.

Ludovica Guerriero, on the other hand, was downright frightening. She seemed nice on first meeting; he learned she had come to be a part of the order a year after the Decimation, for all her children and grandchildren had been lost in that event (and with that story his guilt buried itself deeper into his soul). Unlike some of the new recruits who left for their families once they returned, Ludovica stayed on; she liked keeping busy and could ‘go visit the family whenever I want to, anyway’.

At first it was fine. Her first day there, she rearranged things her way while Stephen beat back some inter-dimensional boggarts and sealed a rip between dimensions in Guatemala. When he portaled back to the Sanctum, something that could only be called Italian was permeating the halls that led to the kitchen with a rich mix of smells. Unwittingly, his stomach growled.

He stepped towards the kitchen, then paused. He did not have time to sit down and eat if he wanted to finish his research before his body ultimately gave out on him. But as he started towards the stairs, Ludovica’s voice came to him with, “Doctor Strange? Is that you?”

Stephen sighed quietly and then called, “It’s me.” He took the few remaining steps towards the kitchen and halted at the doorway. “Smells good, Mrs Guerriero.”

“I’m glad you think so. I thought I’d do something special for my first night in New York for our dinner.”

Best to tell her immediately of his plans. “Actually, I—”

She continued on as if he hadn’t said a thing. “This was my nonna’s recipe. Parmigiana di melanzane with tomato, aubergine, the freshest mozzarella cheese; all ingredients picked up in my home town today.”

He blinked, momentarily sidetracked. “Sorry, uh, aubergine?”

Her brow furrowed. “Is that not the right word? It is melanzane, you know—” She cut herself off and pulled a stem with only part of the purple fruit remaining upon it. “This plant.”

“Oh! Oh, yeah, that’s an eggplant.”

“Eggplant? What a strange name.” She started dishing out the bake. “Would you mind setting the table, doctor?”

“I…” he started in protest, but the look she gave him was so sweet and imploring and kind. It reminded him of his grandmother from when he was young. He exhaled slowly; so much for his plans. “Sure.”

And that parmigiana di melanzane was really fucking delicious. It had no right to be that good.

About a week later, when he realized he had somehow been corralled to the dinner table every night since her arrival (and was a couple pounds heavier because of it), Stephen Strange realized that, underneath that sweet exterior, Ludovica Guerriero was an emotionally manipulative mastermind that knew exactly what to say to get him to do exactly what she wanted. This was absolutely terrifying.

Stephen was going to kill Wong.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Despite the terrible emotional manipulation being forced upon his person regarding (incredibly delicious) food, Stephen somehow maintained the status quo with his duties for five weeks after the funeral. He would work himself to utter exhaustion and only then find some rest (though even with this method the nightmares came on occasion, when he was just not exhausted enough, in his opinion).

(The part of his mind well-versed in psychology laughed incredulously at that line of thinking. He told that part of his mind to shut up and mind its own business, then threw himself in his work again.)

But eventually it all came crashing down. Of course it did; that was his life the last… however many years. Two or seven depending on how one counted.

The most embarrassing part was the situation that ended up being the straw that broke the camel’s back. It was stupid, completely irrelevant, and shouldn’t have even happened, but here he was.

It went like this:

Ludovica was out for the day with her family in Italy, Wong was over to discuss things, and they were both hungry. Neither of them felt like cooking, so.

“What do you want to eat?” Stephen asked as his glamour spell transformed his robes to something more normal for New York. “Pizza? Sandwiches? Thai? Something else?”

Wong thought for a moment. “I wouldn’t say no to a tuna melt.”

Stephen stilled his steps; that sounded familiar. Why did that sound familiar? It was just a sandwich—

‘I’ll tell the guys at the deli. Maybe they’ll make you a metaphysical ham on rye.’

Stephen blinked and placed a hand against the wall to steady himself. He heard Wong say, “Stephen?” but it sounded muffled and distant.

‘A… buck and a half,’ Wong admitted.

He sighed. ‘What do you want?’

Wong clapped his hands together and followed him down the rest of the stairs. ‘I wouldn’t say no to a tuna melt.’

The crash of breaking glass and wood, emitting a sound loud enough to almost contest the car accident.

Bruce Banner. Tony Stark. Thanos is coming. Ebony Maw. We swore an oath to protect the Time Stone with our lives. Fourteen million, six hundred and five.

One.

“…en. Look at me, Stephen. You’re in the New York Sanctum Sanctorum. You’re safe. The cloak wants to reach out to you, Stephen, but I batted it away until you can look at me. You’re safe.”

Wong’s words managed to break through the cacophony of madness splitting his mind and he gasped as he focused his eyes on Wong. At some point he had ended up on the floor. His heart attempted to beat itself out of his chest.

When they made eye contact, Wong said without breaking it, “You can rest on him, but get back if his heart rate increases.” Then he continued, as the cloak gently settled itself on Stephen’s shoulders, “Copy my breathing, Stephen. Inhale… and exhale. Good, just like that. Again, inhale… and exhale. Again.”

His breathing evened out and his heart rate eventually slowed to something approaching normal, and Stephen was finally able to manage words. “Where— where did you— learn how to do— do that?”

Wong didn’t answer. Rather, he asked, “Can I help you off the floor?”

Still in a daze he nodded his acquiescence, and Wong took an elbow and forearm and hoisted him up with the assistance of the cloak. He led Stephen to one of the smaller, quieter parlours within the Sanctum and sat him down in a comfortable chair. “I’ll be right back.”

'Right back’ was certainly not immediate, but Stephen lost track of time and Wong seemed to return nearly instantly, this time with a couple fresh cups of tea. He did not attempt to give it to Stephen, but rather set it down beside him. Clearly he saw just how badly his hands were trembling.

Wong took a seat across from him and brought his own cup to his lips. He said nothing as Stephen further calmed his heart rate and the tremors in his hands became less prominent.

Several minutes of silence later, Stephen murmured, “Sorry.”

“I knew it would happen sooner or later,” was Wong’s answer. Stephen swallowed and said nothing. “You cannot continue going on like this.”

Stephen’s instinctive reaction was denial, but he could feel Wong’s eyes on him and his retort fell before it could even begin. “There’s too much to do,” he said instead.

“There always is,” was Wong’s reply.

The silence sat between them again when Wong did not expound further and Stephen battled against a myriad of emotions within his own mind. He tried to distract himself with tea, but the shaking in his hand was too prominent, too debilitating, so he withdrew it.

Another two minutes passed. “I have been given another chance in this world,” he tried instead. “All my efforts should go to protecting it.”

Wong eyed him expressionlessly. “Your efforts have gone above and beyond most. They have seen the resurrection of all life that was unjustly taken five years ago.”

“Those were not my efforts,” Stephen argued. “That was the Avengers.”

“And you set them on that path.”

The tremors increased. He swallowed heavily. “My efforts caused the entire universe to suffer for years. My efforts brought an intergalactic war to Earth’s soil. My efforts brought chaos and despair that led to so much death.” His voice broke on that last word and he turned his head away from Wong.

Wong permitted him a moment before speaking again. “I was told it was over fourteen million futures you saw.” A shudder ran through Stephen in reply. “At what point did you see this future?”

He swallowed. “Somewhere around four million.”

“And you searched another ten million after.”

His hands would not stop their violent shaking. He loosely gripped at the cloak and it curled around his hand. “I’m not— I’ve done triage before,” he started. “Battle of New York. We didn’t have the resources to— to save everyone. We had to pick our cases. Before the accident, it was one of the most difficult moments of my life.

“But this reality was— it was too much to ask. There were too many black tags. I knew there… there were hundreds of millions of permutations. Maybe billions. But I could not sustain the strength needed to search further. I was not… not strong enough.” And to his horror, he felt tears falling from his eyes. He could not look at Wong.

“Stephen. Stephen, look at me.” Reluctantly, after a brief moment, he turned his face towards him. Wong’s steadfast look was blurred by the unwanted tears. “You are the strongest man I have ever known. What you did no other human being could have accomplished.” Stephen’s gaze lowered. “And you must remember: you saw the paths of the future, but you did not control its course. Everyone had their own free will to make the choices they made; they knew death was a real possibility, but they chose to fight.”

Another shudder ran through his entire body and he felt the cloak increase its pressure against him ever so slightly. He placed his face in his trembling hands and just tried to get a grip.

He suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder. “It’s not your fault, Stephen,” Wong muttered.

His tenuous grasp on his emotions completely broke. Another full body shudder ran through him before an ugly sob broke past his lips. Once it started, it was as if a dam had been broken; all his grief and guilt released itself then, the all-encompassing pain overwhelming his entire being. Even as he wept and mourned everything that had been lost, the cloak carefully curled about him and Wong remained a silent, steadfast presence at his side. His hand never left his shoulder.

And with the brick wall he had put about his heart finally breaking down, Stephen began to take his first steps towards recovery.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

“Oh, Doctor, you have mail.”

Stephen looked up from the tome to stare at Ludovica. “Mail? As in… from the mailbox?”

“Where else does mail come from?” she answered with a soft tut. He took the envelope from her and she left the study.

He frowned at the address. Upstate New York. What was in upstate New York? He carefully opened the envelope and unfolded the letter.

Oh. They finished rebuilding the Avengers compound. And… a celebration. A memorial, for Tony Stark, Natasha Romanoff, and all those who gave their lives over a year ago.

And he, Wong, and any sorcerer who wished to attend were invited to celebrate their lives.

Stephen’s eyes grew distant for a moment as his mind went back to that day. The ache was still there, but it did not consume him anymore. It had joined the other poignant, bittersweet reminders of days past, of those gone but still within living memory.

He softly exhaled before standing to head down the hall to Kamar-Taj. He was sure there were many who would be interested in attending, and to remember those gone so that they would not be forgotten.

——

A/N: Someone with the dedicated duty of basically babysitting Sanctums while their Masters fight off things was lovingly borrowed from keshwyn on AO3. Her series of one-shots around this figure are super super super gorgeous, go read them. Wonderful character development (I’ll write a proper fic rec soon)

(had to save it as jpg because for some reason it’s not letting me save as a png on photoshop atm? ugh)(and formatting should be fixed double ugh)

#doctor strange fanfic #stephen strange #doctor strange #wong #avengers: endgame #avengers fanfiction #my fanfiction #my writing #fanfic #ask #answered #long post #apparently the damn read more tag isnt working on the app #wtf tumblr #see reblog

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krugerevengeinej · 6 years ago

Text

When the Water Begins to Recede Ch. 4 - Feathers

Synopsis | Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3

A/N: Hey guys! Sorry this chapter took me so long to get up I’ve been a bi preoccupied with school. It is another Kaz chapter but I’m not really going to be alternating any specific way, though you can expect the next chapter to be from Inej’s pov. Anyways I hope you like it ad let me know what you think as always!

Desc: Kaz has underestimated the difficulty of navigating the troubled waters of Ketterdam since Pekka’s departure and things are just now beginning to pick up. Inej is stuck in the city for a while while she works to track down the ship that wrecked her crew and she and Kaz finally get a few quiet moments together.

Song inspo: Me and My friends Are Lonely - Matt Maeson, Drop The Game - Flume & Chet Faker

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Kaz was frustrated. He might have been a million other things considering the gruesome state Roeder had been returned in, even worse was that the boy was still alive. A pulse beat at his throat, and his chest still rose and fell with every weak breath. The Dime Lions—that was clearly who it had been, hence the dimes in the eyes, leaving him alive, even clinging to death’s door in this state had been a shock.

It wasn’t like Kaz hadn’t seem similar things before. Members of gangs had been kidnapped and tortured and thrown back to their masters with tongues and other limbs removed, likely to keep them from telling what had happened. They rarely survived long enough to put a pen to paper if they kept their hands either. Yet the only thing Roeder had been missing was his eyes, his dignity, and a few teeth from a brutal beating he’d received.

It had still been useless to try and ask him anything because within a few minutes his weak pulse had begun to fade. Someone might have shouted for a medik, but there were none nearby good enough to keep him breathing. Zenik would have been particularly useful in this kind of situation and wished he could call upon the heartrender, but she wasn’t even in Kerch anymore.

Kaz wasn’t even sure who would mourn for the boy besides a few fellow Dregs. If even that. He hadn’t been the most sociable type, after all that would have been a poor quality for a spy. People who liked to talk were always more inclined to spill secrets no matter how hard they tried to resist the temptation.

Kaz cared in his own strange way. Roeder had just been starting out as his spider and while he couldn’t compare to the Wraith, he was doing well at it. Kaz was glad he hadn’t been working long enough to get any vital information, now that anything he gathered was surely turned over to the remnants of the Dime Lions.

Kaz had been considering sending him to spy around Vellgeluk and see what he could pick up about the brothel owners that frequented the island and its auctions. Examining the boy’s body as it had begun to grow cold, Kaz silently thanked any gods that might be listening he hadn’t sent Roeder on that job.

A few boys had carried the body away, all with solemn faces, more for the foreboding of message they’d been sent than the death itself. Death was common in the barrel, people were shot, stabbed, mugged, raped and beaten to death on the daily. Those who had been here the longest grew accustomed to the most gruesome things that life had to offer, driven by lust, greed, anger and just general cruelty, humans did horrendous things.

But this, symbolic, garish and brutal, was the real beginning of a gang war. It was something that had been inevitable since the second Kaz gotten Pekka Rollins down on his knees, begging for his son’s safety. And he knew that but anticipating something was so vastly different than being prepared for it. Months, it had been, and he still felt stuck in the middle of something, out of his depth and often found himself lacking something he couldn’t identify.

He’d been in this city long enough to have survived gang wars, and there was always ugly aftermath for everyone, from common street rats to the biggest bosses, even merchers who made deals with the wrong men. But even those were small-scale. This was full-blown regicide, people were fighting for the crown of an heirless King, and he was one of them.

Survival itself would have been difficult for him in this situation not long ago, but now it wasn’t enough for him to just survive. He had to thrive, he had to triumph because this was his legacy. He’d promised Jordie revenge by ruining Pekka Rollins and now he needed the satisfaction of taking the throne he’d left behind, of getting control of his city. That had been his goal for so long, and he was agonizingly close yet oceans away.

But the city itself wasn’t the hardest part. A new promise was, interfering with the one he’d made to his brothe. It was the one he’d made to Inej. His gang needed him but so did she, and as much as he hated it, he needed her too. Having his spider would be a great assistance for him right now, but she had her own promises. He didn’t know exactly what they were or who they were to, but she had every right to honor them.

She was in the city again for now, and maybe she could help him. He knew she worried for the gang, it hadn’t been long ago when she worked alongside them, and a few had even been her friends. But she’d still be busy working against Tante Heleen and trying to find leads on the slave ship that had decimated her crew. He would be assisting her of course, and despite the extra work, he was still grateful for it. The stressed, tired and frustrated part of him seemed to lighten at the sight of her, as if some invisible weight had been lifted from his shoulders. She was here, she would be here if he needed her. Even if it was only temporary.

But that was just it, it was temporary, and the thought frustrated him a bit more. She may be back for the time being, but she would leave again. She will leave again, he reminded himself. He didn’t want to think about it, but he couldn’t forget. It would be too easy to slip into a rhythm of routine, start to grow dependent on her, and find himself lost when she left.

He still wanted to at least try and show her he cared before she did.

It was nearly ten bells when they’d finished planning for tomorrow’s excursion. Inej would be spying near the White Rose to see what she could learn about slaver ships coming into Vellgeluk, and any other boats headed that way she could hitch a ride on because taking her own ship might not be the most inconspicuous method of travel. Random ships didn’t simply come and go from the island. If you went there, you went with purpose and somebody knew who you were.

Kaz would be providing her with backup in case something went wrong. Of course, covering up the real purpose of the job, insisting it had something to do with exclusive new investment opportunities. But he would be staying behind in the city and trying to figure out how the hell to find a new spider. Not that he would be telling Inej. He needed someone to figure out where the Dime Lion’s den was because none of their old businesses were still running and it wasn’t any other property he was aware they owned.

But it was time to take a break from work.

Now, Inej followed him up the Slat’s rickety steps to the attic. Neither of them had any real reason to be up there, in fact it had been emptied of everything apart from Kaz’s sparse belongings and his bed. Even the makeshift desk had been disassembled, its pieces moved elsewhere. But it was strangely comforting to be up there with her again, and an excellent opportunity for some alone time. It seemed like such a long time since they’d had any where they didn’t have to fear sudden interruptions from his gang.

They were exhausted and fatigued, but at least here it was secluded and mostly quiet, though the rustle of the barrel never ceased. The largest portion of the attic was completely empty, and the door to his small bedroom was left open.

“It’s odd,” Inej mused, offering no explanation.

“What is?” Kaz asked. The two of them hung their coats up and stood in the center of the room. It had always seemed so small when it was cluttered but compared to most rooms at the slat it was fairly large.

“It’s so early, and somehow we’ve got free time,” she explained. It was true, usually they’d still be out on some job or assignment. It made Kaz feel a bit old. He’d been doing so much more mundane office work lately he was actually looking forward to something exciting. But at least right now he was with Inej.

“Is that a bad thing?” he asked.

“Just odd,” she said, walking closer to the window and dragging a finger through the dust that had settled on the windowsill. “Have you fed the crows for me?”

“I don’t make friends with crows, Wraith,” he said mockingly. She narrowed he eyes at the use of that nickname, but a slight smile lit up her face.

“If I didn’t make friends with crows, I wouldn’t be friends with you.” She offered, wiping away the remaining dust and settling herself beside the window. It was wonderful to be having such light hearted, nonchalant conversations with her again.

“Maybe more than friends?” he asked casually. Then added, “and are you insinuating I’m a bird? Last time I checked I didn’t have feathers, and I certainly don’t lay eggs.”

“You steal my fried potatoes and hold a grudge like no one I’ve ever met,” she opened the window, pulled a crumbled biscuit from her pocket and began tossing pieces to the crows. “And yes, more than friends,” she conceded.

Kaz laughed softly and found himself staring dumbly at her for a moment. But a raised brow from her was enough to get him back to his senses, and he set about removing his vest and shirt. He slipped into his tiny bedroom and dipped a cloth in the washbasin by his bed.

He was half facing her as he ran the wet cloth over his skin, shivering a bit at the frigid temperature of the water. Inej’s focus was on him and he knew. She always tried to be subtle, watching from the corner of her eye but he could tell. She’d always done it and it had been tempting to call her out on it on it if only to see her furrow her brows in frustration, blushing despite herself.

A bit of recklessness overcame him, and he asked, “if you’re going to look you may as well check me for feathers.” And there it was, the slightest bit of scarlet tinged her cheeks.

“If I invited you into my chambers and began to undress with my door open, I’m sure you wouldn’t watch,” she said.

“Is that a proposition?” he asked, “and you’re absolutely right. I’m a gentleman.”

“I think I do see a feather, you must sprout them when you lie,” she accused, hopping off the window sill.

With a slight smirk he pulled on a clean shirt and a gray waistcoat. He moved to the door, but Inej walked into his room before he could. He considered saying something else snarky but decided against it, sitting on the edge of the bed. The door clicked shut behind her and she strode to the bed, setting herself down beside him, not quite close enough to touch.

So simple it was just to sit there, in the quiet and dim little room. But he new it wasn’t good enough. Cautiously, his hand slipped into hers and he clung to that little bit of contact, trying to prepare himself for more, assuring himself he was ready. Though, maybe he wasn’t, but he was certainly ready to make an attempt.

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