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steebharringt0n · 5 years

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sanctuary - part 5

summary: Subject 001. That’s what you’ve been called your whole life. You’ve known nothing but pain, violence, and isolation. You were their greatest secret weapon, but when your final mission is to ensure the end of the universe, you escape to Hawkins, Indiana to team up with Eleven and to put an end to all this chaos, once and for all - you just never expected to fall in love with the resident bad boy along the way.

rating: m

pairing: billy hargrove x reader

warning: graphic violence, slurs, abuse, curse words.

A/N: I am still completely floored by all your responses, once again thank you, thank you, thank you. PLEASE NOTE! I could not tag some of you! I think you have to update your tumblr settings to allow me to tag you! So if you asked me to tag you and you are not in this list, please check your tumblr settings!

tagged list: @thefandomzoneisdangerous @jujurandy @littlebrownngirl @harduy @art-flirt @bish-ima-clown @lynnskata @snakelaufeyson @creativedogs @nightshade7117 @letsloveimagines @sorry-didnt-mean-to-stab-you @sighsophiia @blackravena @universefinds @jesus-jagiya @justatadbonkers @thedarkartsstuff @asheseiler @rad-lad-gone-mad @sophiajiyeon @sweetamren @frostygilbert @hufflepuff-writings @strangerchalamet @frenchzodiacgirl @sadgirlnumber92899 @all-american-fangirl @eyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy @solfolgi @magnitude101999

001. prologue 002. firestarter 003. spitfire 004. friend

--- 005. sister

“Mike can you please pass the marshmallows?”

Eleven sighed, looking at her boyfriend - who was fully engrossed in telling a story to Will - across the campfire.

“Mike?”

No answer.

Max nudged her on the side, “Just use your powers - he’s too caught up in telling Will what happened in gym last week - which by the way was totally gross” Max shuddered at the story, remembering what Lucas had told her in very graphic detail. Eleven nodded at Max, she turned her attention to the bag of marshmallows by Mike’s leg, staring at it in complete concentration. She inhaled sharply, and the bag started to move towards her. She felt her nose start to trickle with blood as Max quickly grabbed a napkin and handed it to her.

Mike stopped mid-story, noticing the floating back of marshmallows out of the corner of his eye, and turned his attention to his girlfriend, frowning, “Hey, I could have gotten that for you”

“She called your name like 3 times nimrod” Max spoke with a dry tone.

Eleven quickly dabbed away at her nose, catching the bag of marshmallows as they landed in her hand. “It’s okay Mike, I didn’t want to interrupt you”

“Hey, hey hey! What did we say about using your powers! This is a strictly no power camping trip!” Hopper suddenly thundered, a tinge of anger in his voice. He appeared from one of the 3 tents that surrounded the campfire. Eleven looked up at her father, giving him an apologetic smile, “I’m sorry Hop” she quietly spoke.

He sat down next to her, taking the bag of marshmallows from her lap and shoving one in his mouth. “This is supposed to be a relaxing weekend with your friends alright?” his tone much more calm with his daughter.

Eleven nodded quietly, taking the bag back from Hopper’s lap and grabbing a marshmallow and shoving one on her stick. She grabbed the stick and outstretched her hand so that the marshmallow hovered right above the flame.

“Careful El, don’t put it too much in the fire or it’ll burn and burnt marshmallows are not tasty” Mike chided in.

“Hey, hey, hey! Guess who’s back with dinner!” a voice suddenly announced from the trees behind Mike and Will. Out of the darkness appeared Steve, Lucas and Dustin, a triumphant smile on their faces. They all had fishing rods under their arms, but Steve was carrying a large cooler. He placed it near the fireplace, landing with a loud thud.

“Oh shit, you guys actually caught something?!” Max exclaimed, walking over and opening the cooler.

“Why must you always doubt us Max?” Lucas huffed, taking a seat next Mike.

“Because you’re boys, and boys are always to be doubted” she retorted back. She glanced into the cooler and saw 4 large cods. She loved her friends - her guy friends, but she would get sick of their nonsense every now and then. She loved that she found a friend in Eleven. Although Eleven was still learning about the outside world, she didn’t mind teaching her a thing or two.

“Okay, wow rude Max, I’ve been nothing but nice to you” Steve interjected, taking a seat next to Hopper and grabbing a stick near the fire. He reached over Hopper’s lap and grabbed the bag of marshmallows out of Eleven’s lap, earning him a dirty look from her.

“You know you could have, asked her for the bag right?” Hopper stated.

Steve shrugged, shoving 3 marshmallows in his mouth, “This is quicker”

Max scoffed, “And you wonder why you don’t have a girlfriend”

“Okay one, ow, two aren’t you like 12? What do you know about boys?” Steve questioned, shoving more marshmallows in his mouth.

“Uh one, I’m 14, and two I’ve been dating Lucas for the past couple of months, I know plenty about boys … “ she trailed off, looking over to Lucas and Dustin who were engaging in a heated game of Chubby Bunny, shoving as many marshmallows they could in their mouth. Max rolled her eyes, “See what I mean?” she gestured over to them.

“Hey, hey! Idiots! Stop shoving marshmallows in your mouth, you’re going to choke!” Hopper exclaimed, getting up from his seat and snatching the extra bag of marshmallows off of Lucas’s lap. The two boys frowned, but were hard to take serious since their cheeks were all puffed up from all the marshmallows shoved in there.

Eleven quietly stood up and walked over to Will, who was surveying the chaos unfolding around them. Eleven liked Will, she enjoyed his calm presence. It was refreshing considering that Mike, Lucas, Dustin and Max could all be wildcards when they wanted. But not Will, he was always quiet, always standing in the background. Eleven took a seat next to him, a soft smile on her face as she adjusted her shirt.

“It’s nice isn’t it? To be away from it all for a bit” Will commented to her, continuing to watch as Max and Steve bicker, and Hopper scold Lucas and Dustin.

Eleven nodded, pulling her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around her legs, “Yes … I like being with friends, outside, I don’t have to hide”

Will nodded. He had been through a lot these last couple of months. With the mind-flayer taking over his body, Joyce though it’d be a perfect idea to go camping with his friends. It would be a good way for him to reset with those closest to him. That didn’t stop his nightmares though. His PTSD would occasionally reappear in the smallest way. Whether it be something tickling his neck, or a cold draft through his bedroom. He always felt like he was being watched by it - waiting for the right time to reappear and strike again.

“Have you been doing okay Will?” Eleven asked, turning her gaze to the small boy.

Will shrugged his shoulders, “I’ve been okay, it’s been a couple of rough nights here and there but - “

Will froze.

His face suddenly paled, his eyes went round as he pressed his lips in a straight line. He lifted his right arm and carefully reached over to the base of his neck, his fingers ghosting his skin very delicately. His stomach dropped, heavily, as if it were being dropped down a roller coaster.

He wanted to vomit, he wanted to cry.

Eleven quickly took notice of his behavior, placing her hand on his arm. Her eyes searching for his, “Hey, are you okay?”

Will quickly snapped back to reality, twisting his neck to look at a concerned Eleven. He wanted to scream, he wanted to tell her what he felt.

But he stood quiet.

He swallowed quickly, giving Eleven a quick nod. “Yeah, just a bug on my neck”

She gave him a half smile, squeezing his arm gently as she turned her attention back to Hopper who was trying his hardest to teach the boys and Max how to gut a fish. It was not going well. Eleven got up from her seat, now intrigued by the commotion around her as she stood next to Mike, looping her arm around his. But Will stayed seated, frozen, as fear slithered through his veins.

He knew that feeling, he could never, ever forget that feeling of dread, of emptiness.

It was back. The mind-flayer was back.

---

You stepped out of the warm shower, grabbing the white towel that hung from the door and quickly wrapping it around your body. You relished the feeling of being clean, feeling safe and warm for once in your life. You stood in front of the fogged mirror, wiping it down with your hand.

Taking in your appearance, you finally had some color to your face (besides the fading bruises). Your hair was glistening in the light, slicked back from being wet. You felt human, you felt normal for once. Glancing down at your wrist however, you knew that you could never really be normal. There was always going to be a part of you that was always going to be different. The three numbers etched on your skin proved it.

You sighed heavily, grabbing a smaller towel from the towel rack and quickly drying your hair with it. Grabbing a brush from the sink, you brushed your hair back, carefully drying the ends so that your shirt wouldn’t get wet. You put on the clothes that Nancy had let you borrow, a pair of athletic gym shorts that were a tad bit too small for you, and a large crewneck sweater.

You hesitantly stepped out of the bathroom where Nancy, Billy and Jonathan were quietly conversing. Billy still sitting on the couch while Nancy and Jonathan sat on the floor. Billy noticed you coming in and stopped mid-conversation, sucking in a tight breath as he did a double take, his eyes drinking in your figure as you took careful steps towards them.

The tiny pair of shorts showed off your long, toned legs, and if Billy loved anything besides a nice ass and a nice pair of tits, it was nice legs. He loved how the shorts showed off your figure, something that you were hiding underneath your other pair of clothes.

He would never admit this to you however.

“Hey, wow, you look so much better” Nancy remarked turning her head around to you, Jonathan nodding in agreement.

You looked down at your bare feet, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear, “I feel better, I feel refreshed. I’m just really tired” you spoke gently.

“Well, Jonathan and Billy are about to head home. I brought down some pillows and blankets so you can crash on the couch. We can regroup tomorrow since it’s Saturday and hopefully we can get in contact with the kids and Hopper”

You nodded at Nancy’s statement. The three of them promptly then stood up, it was nearing to be 12 AM and your body was absolutely wrecked. You couldn’t wait to fall asleep on a warm, cozy couch.

“Hey, I’m gonna let Jonathan out the front door. Billy you know how to go through the back door right?” Nancy asked the blond, who nodded silently at her.

“I’ll see you in the morning okay? Just be sure to stay quiet - I don’t think my parents would be too happy to know I’m housing you” Nancy said to you, giving you a soft smile. You let out a laugh, “Yeah that’d be weird to explain”

Jonathan gave you wave as the pair headed back up the wooden stairs, leaving you alone with Billy in the basement. He walked over to you, towering over your frame as you shyly looked away from him. He took out his unused cigarette from his leather jacket and placed it on his lips.

“One more light for the road?” he mumbled to you.

You frowned, looking up into his eyes, “Nancy said you can’t smoke in here”

Billy let out a chuckle, “One thing about me doll, I don’t like to play by the rules”

He leaned in closer to you, cigarette still hanging by his mouth. You licked your lips as you snapped your fingers, holding up the flame to his cigarette as he took a deep inhale, then a loud exhale.

There was silence amongst the two of you as the thick smoke dissipated in the air.

“Will I see you tomorrow?” you asked softly, tilting your head to the side.

His mouth twisted into a half smile. His mind quickly wandered back to a couple hours ago, how seemingly normal everything had been and in an instant he had suddenly been roped into this whole save the world plot with you. But he laughs to himself, his life had never really been normal anyways. He took the cigarette from his lips and stared down at you. He raised his free hand and brushed his fingers against the yellowing bruise by your eye.

You close your eyes, inhaling shakily as you lean into his touch. His calloused palm now rested on your cheek, his thumb making soft circles on your skin. His warm touch was something foreign to you, something you never knew that existed, a feeling that sent shock waves through your body.

Without saying a word, his hand quickly left your cheek. You opened your eyes and Billy turned on his heel and left out the back door. You stood planted on your feet as the loud roar of his camero left the neighborhood leaving you standing in the Wheeler’s basement in silence.

---

“Let’s spy on Billy!”

Eleven groaned, twisting her body over in her sleeping bag to face an eager Max who was wide awake at 12 AM.

“Max ... it’s super late ... I’m tired”

She weakly cracked open her eyes to see her red-headed best friend hovering over her, a wolfish smile on her face.

“Please, please, please! Last one, I know Mr. Wheeler wasn’t the most exciting person to spy on but Billy could be” Max pressed on.

Eleven sighed heavily, slowly sitting up and adjusting herself. “Last one okay?”

Max nodded happily, “Yes, last one, I promise”

Eleven reached over to her backpack and pulled out a black bandana, carefully placing it over her tired eyes. Max grabbed the portable radio that was by her sleeping bag and quickly messed with the knobs, until she reached a station that was playing nothing but static.

Eleven inhaled sharply and concentrated on the static. Her mind wandering through different channels until she reached a dark void.

Her feet splashed quietly as she looked around for Billy, but kept seeing nothing but darkness.

“Will I see you tomorrow?”

Eleven whipped her head around at the voice, trying to find where the source came from. She wandered around the void until she found Billy, his back turned towards her. She quietly tip-toed over to the blond, watching his movements carefully. Watching as he raised his hand and placed it on a girls cheek.

A girl.

“I - I see Billy ... he’s with a girl”

“Oh please tell me they’re not naked or anything” Max groaned.

Eleven ignored Max comments and continued to watch the pair. She watched the girl lean into Billy’s touch, his eyes intense as he held her cheek in his palm. Eleven had never seen Billy be so gentle with a girl before, let alone with anyone. If anything she was always told to stay away from Billy, but this, this surprised her.

She watched as Billy snatched his hand away from the girls cheek and quickly left through the backdoor.

The backdoor.

Wait, she knew that backdoor, she’s been through that backdoor.

“He’s at Mike’s house ... with a girl” Eleven stammered out.

“Wait, what?!”

Eleven quickly turned her attention to the girl standing there, frozen, as if being stunned by Billy’s soft touch. Eleven examined her features as she walked closer to her. Her face was bruised, her eyes weary, tired. She was wearing shorts that were too small for her, and a sweatshirt that engulfed most of her frame. She watched as you pulled up the sleeves from the sweatshirt, turning your body away from Eleven as walked away from her.

Then, she spotted it.

Eleven’s breath hitched, her eyes widening as she felt the blood drain from her face.

001.

There was the number, tattooed plainly on your wrist.

Eleven began to hyperventilate, the feeling of uncertainty gnawing at her stomach. She didn’t know what to do, she didn’t know what to say.

“El?! Are you okay?! El?!”

Eleven ripped off the bandana, blood streaming down her nose as tears began to prick her eyes. Her breaths were coming in short pants as she turned to Max, a worried expression written all over her face.

“What did you see?!” she stressed, there was panic in her voice.

“I - I saw ... my sister”

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove imagine

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mnemememory · 5 years

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all the stars in the sky -

Chapter 1

Guardians of the Galaxy AU where Beau and Jester are simultaneously better and worse than Starlord, Yasha and Molly are Gamora, Nott is not a genetically modified raccoon (but she's just as good at blowing things up), Caleb is Groot, Fjord has less tattoos than Drax and Caduceus is confused.

INFREQUENT UPDATES

"Beau," Jester says, waving her hands through the holographic images of happy people. "I don't think this is such a good idea."

Beau keeps walking forward, footsteps echoing through the ruined cityscape. She tries not to look at the holograms too closely - she knows that Jester enjoys decorating her maps with whatever flavour text she can get her hands on, but Beau finds the whole thing just a little too lifelike to properly enjoy. Especially when that involves looking at the faces of dead people.

"Dairon is going to be mad," Jester says, hurrying to catch up. Her map flickers out for a second as they enter a new quadrant, and then springs to life. Children run across the cracked stone ground in a loop. Beau closes her eyes to steady herself.

"Dairon is always mad," Beau says. "And this is just a little side-job. There's nothing wrong with making a bit of extra money."

"Dairon is always mad at you," Jester corrects. She fidgets a little with her watch, and the hologram resets itself to contain only the architecture. Beau's tense muscles loosen a fraction. "She likes me. I'm her favourite."

That is blatantly untrue, and Beau refuses to acknowledge such lies. She turns her nose up in the air and keeps moving further into the ruined world.

The planet of Emon is eerie in its stillness. Towers stretch to skeletons, the twin suns red and dying. The light flickers ominously overhead. Beau has her night-vision goggles pushed back into her fringe in case things go dark. Jester doesn't need to worry - Tieflings never really had to worry about not being able to see - but Beau is Terran, is human, and she doesn't have any of those same natural advantages.

"Dairon doesn't have favourites," Beau says. "And if she did, it would most certainly be me."

Jester very maturely sticks her tongue out, hopping over a fissure in the ground. Her boot kicks against something that snarls, and Beau has her staff out and set to sear before she's even conscious of what she's doing.

Jester laughs. "Put that thing away," she says, kneeling down. There's a small, furred creature curled up in-between two rocks, fur dark and patchy. Jester soothes it out from its hiding place with careful words, smiling without showing her teeth. Beau can't even begin to understand how she does it. She had once had a messenger owl, and. Well. Things hadn't ended particularly well between them. She liked to think that he was still out there, somewhere, living his best life with the stars. But she doubted it.

"Hello there," Jester says, coaxing the thing into her hands. In the dim half-light it is revealed to be a startling red rather than the darker brown Beau had initially thought, long and slender. Jester pets it between the ears and it lets out a small croon.

Beau glances at her wrist. There's a timer in the corner of her screen, seconds ticking over and -

Beau's eyes narrow.

"Jester," she says.

"I'm going to name you Sprinkle," Jester tells the thing. Beau internally sighs. They're never going to get rid of it now.

"Jester," she says again. "Come on. We need to hurry up."

Jester sighs. "Okay, okay," she says, standing up. The creature squeaks, and Jester obligingly wraps it around her neck like furry scarf. Beau is almost jealous - it's fairly chilly in the dead light - but also that thing is probably infected with all kinds of diseases her Terran immune system couldn't hope to handle. She's learned the tough way that sometimes, just sometimes, being human in a galaxy of weirdo superheroes kind of sucks.

"This way," Jester says. The world around them glitches again, and the hologram resets itself a few frames away.

They go down.

The further into the ground they go, the less data that Jester has to work with. She umms and aahs about it, the little creature squeaking every so often into Jester's ear. Beau stays a few metres ahead, staff out. A mild current of electricity runs through the metal - not enough to burn, but definitely enough to stun.

"Just a little further," Jester says.

"You've said that for the past five minutes," Beau says.

"I got lost before," Jester says. "We shouldn't have gone own that last corner. But now I know where we are. Just a little further."

And then:

Beau hadn't quite imagined it properly. Emon was a dead thing, the centre of an empire that had long-since fallen to ruin. She's heard stories, of course, because the Cobalt Soul told stories. She's read books, of course, because they were the purveyors and providers of knowledge. She's heard of them all: Allura Vysoran, Kima of Vord, Vox Machina...

Stories.

The room in front of her is – everything she could have dreamed of, and everything she never wanted to see. The Council Chambers, adorned in cobweb lace and rotted tapestries. Beau catches her breath on the dust in the air and she feels like she's choking.

Jester keeps going forward. Jester has always been so good at putting one foot in front of the other, even in the presence of so much history. "This way," she says, and kneels in the middle of the chamber.

As she walks forward, the air transforms, the hologram stretching outward like magic. Beau's eyes widen as the rubble and rock are swept away underneath clear glass floors and glowing pillars of ice. The tapestries restitch themselves into intricate tableau's of life and death, characters waving sword-like instruments and riding upon enormous beasts. A table sits where Jester is kneeling, surrounded by people.

The Council.

Beau walks forward in a dream, eyes locked forward. The people around the room are still, unmoving – Beau can't quite reconcile their frozen faces with Jester's proclivity towards movement in her art. Her eyes are drawn to a tall, slender figure adorned in fire, eyes of burnished bronze glowing out of a pale half-moon face, cheeks littered with freckles. Tall antlers stretch towards the ceiling, holding back a wealth of red hair.

Keyleth of the Air Ashari.

"What do you think?" Jester asks, looking up from the floor with a wide smile on her face. "I didn't have time to animate them properly, but I got a whole lot of historical references -"

"They look real," Beau says, heart seizing in her chest.

Jester beams.

Beau kneels down next to her. Her skin prickles with the feeling of being watched, and she can't quite help but wish that Jester had made her holograms a little less realistic than she had.

"Here," Jester says, pressing her hand down on a floor tile. Her fingers glow blue for a second, and then bright pink sparks fly from her fingernails to dig into the cracks in the floor.

Beau watches as the ground splits apart, tiles jolting downwards to form a square opening. Slowly, the needle-point of a pyramid the size of Beau's thigh begins to pierce upwards, something round and metallic balanced on the very tip.

"Here it is," Jester says proudly, dusting the remaining sparks of pink light off of her hands and getting to her feet. "The orb!"

Beau grins, reaching out and -

Jester's holograms glitch out of existence, leaving the room in hollow darkness. Something hard and cold presses into the small of her back. Beau's fingers freeze millimetres from the orb.

"Good evening, ladies," a smooth voice says from behind her. "But I think we'll be taking that off your hands."

Jester looks up. "Oh, no," she says. "It's the...who are you?"

Beau retracts her hand and turns slowly around, making sure not to make any kind of obvious play towards the orb. The man is clearly drow, the purple skin highlighted through Beau's goggles. His cloak flares out dramatically around him. Beau would be impressed, if there hadn't been a blade stabbing painfully into the small of her back.

"Who I am is not important," the drow says. "Please step away."

Beau's fingers twitch towards her staff, but the blade digs a little deeper into the gaps in her armour. Beau lets out a short huff and steps to the side, making sure to telegraph her moves so she doesn't get turned into a human kebab.

Jester doesn't look too impressed. "I think that this is called cheating," she says. "You just followed us here, didn't you? That was very inconsiderate -"

"Please be quiet," the drow says. "Or I'm going to have to do some unpleasant things to this friend of yours."

"Beau's been stabbed before," Jester says, grinning.

"You're awfully confident for two scavengers going up against the might of Xhorhas."

Beau closes her eyes. The Dynasty. Great. Dairon was going to kill her.

"Well, Xhorhas isn't really here," Jester says, getting to her feet and brushing off her skirts. Pink sparks flew down the fabric to fizzle out at her feet. "I only see you."

"Yeah," Beau says, trying to casually lean away from the knife. "There's only one of you and two of us."

The knife follows Beau's unsubtle attempts to remain un-stabbed. With a sigh, the drow snaps his fingers.

"I see you're going to have to do this the hard way," he says, and Beau lunges away.

Jester is already there, gigantic lollipop-shaped weapon materialising within her hands to give the drow a good whack on the back of his head. Beau grabs onto the orb and stuffs it down her shirt. She grabs onto Jester's outstretched hand and they pop away in time to avoid a flurry of arrows.

They re-materialise back above ground, towards the upper crust of Emon. The ground roughens underneath their feet as they hurry forward, the stones giving way to badly cracked earth and loose dirt. In the distance behind them, something very large and very angry begins to yell.

"Dairon is not going to be happy with us," Jester says.

"Can you stop saying that?" Beau says miserably. She is not looking forward to the upcoming lecture.

Jester just sticks her tongue out at Beau. They parked The Mistake an unfortunate distance away, and there are some days that Beau really regrets letting Jester name basically everything. Still, the name always seems to end up feeling brutally appropriate. Like now.

"Just a little further," Beau says. She risks a quick glance behind them and lets out a low curse. The Mistake might be small and well-maintained, but she was built for an entirely different skillset to Xhorhsian tortoise-ships, which (in addition to being very large and hard to destroy) packed a mean bite when things got down to it. And, apparently, the drow and his fellow companions had thought to park their entourage fairly close to the ruin, because they were gaining on them.

"Where are you, where are you," Beau says. She recognises the area vaguely, but that doesn't mean they're going to be able to find their cloaked ship with any sort of urgency. The rock formations all blend together under the weight of adrenalin that's burning through her veins, and Beau has to take a few deep breaths to centre herself. Remember your training, she thinks, but Jester is beside her and they've got three tortoise-ships in the air behind them and –

She slams into something very hard and very invisible.

"Found it," Beau says woozily. She shakes her head and rams around the metal plating for the release door button, only for Jester to push past her and do it in half the time it would have taken Beau.

They both rush forward and slam the door behind them, Beau hopping up onto the second level and scrambling to the controls.

"Buckle up," she calls back. "This is going to take a miracle!"

...

"I can't believe we survived that."

Jester groans in agreement from where she's tumbled off to the side of the ship, face smooshed into the metal wall. She doesn't appear to have any inclination to get up, and Beau kind of feels that same. She's slumped over the controls, sweating badly. She can feel blood slowly dripping from the wound in her back, and she isn't looking forward to peeling off her shirt anytime soon. Maybe if she soaked it first...

Of course, getting any sort of water out here was basically impossible, so Beau is probably going to have to settle for antiseptic and stinging for the rest of her life. There are very few things that Beau misses about Earth, but regular baths in water is one of them.

"We should get this back to Pumat."

"Can we take a break first?" Jester says.

"The sooner we get this thing to Pumat, the sooner we get paid," Beau says. She reaches down her shirt and pulls out the orb to study it.

It doesn't look especially valuable. Beau has been living around smugglers – well, technically "anarchists", but smuggling was a very convenient and profitable front, so Dairon didn't mind the occasional odd-job so much – basically Beau's whole life, and she knows how to spot valuable things. The metalwork is in good shape for something that's been living under the ruins of Emon for probably over a thousand years, but considering the workmanship that was commonly associated with that planet, that was hardly a surprise. The only reason they had known it was there was because of some very specific instructions from Pumat, and even then it had taken a solid fortnight of research to figure out how to narrow down the search from "planet" to "building". There's nothing – well, especially interesting about it. It's more than a little disappointing.

"I want to go to a bathhouse," Jester says. "The last one we went to had a really cute girl who couldn't stop looking at you –"

Beau grimaces. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves."

"It'll be fun!"

"How do you even get your eyes to sparkle like that?"

From the lower floor of The Mistake, something bangs against the roof.

"Oh shit," Beau says.

Jester sighs. "Please tell me you didn't –"

From across the control room, the floor hatch slams open and an enraged shriek fills the cockpit. Beau cringes into her seat as a female halfling pulls herself onto the upper deck. She's barely dressed, muscles for days, and Beau has so many regrets right now. So many.

"Oh," she says, trying and failing to laugh. It comes out as more of a pathetic squeak, which is more than a little bit embarrassing. "I'm sorry, I completely" – forgot you were there. Beau stops herself from actually saying it, but from the way the halfling's eyes narrow to furious slits, it doesn't really help her face.

"Where am I," she snarls.

"Uh..."

"Hi, I'm Jester!" Jester says, beaming.

The halfling ignores her, eyes boring into Beau’s skull.

“We’ll take you back to the Creek, er –”

“Keg,” the halfling helpfully supplies.

“Keg,” Beau repeats weakly. “Don’t worry, we’ll get you home ASAP.”

Jester is laughing at her. Beau unsubtly elbows her.

Keg looks extremely unimpressed, but she does go back into the hold, which Beau is counting as progress.

“I’ll log in the coordinates for Shadyrun Creek, then,” Jester says, scratching underneath Sprinkle’s chin with a sparkling air of nonchalance that Beau kind of wants to kick out into space.

“…yeah,” she says, folding her arms across her chest and trying not to blush. “That’s probably a good idea.”

…

#critical role #critical role campaign 2 #beauregard #jester lavorre #guardians of the galaxy au #fanfiction #my writing #i think i'm funny #who even knows what this is #not me

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i4z-0892-il · 5 years

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Anniversary

Author: Jena @i4z-0892-il

Summary: The Anniversary of a past trauma is only days away, the Reader finds comfort in someone who’s been there.

Pairing: Sam x Reader

Word count: 2588

Warnings: Angst, PTSD, flashbacks, anxiety, mentions of sexual assault (nothing graphic.) Don’t read if easily triggered.

A/N: This piece is very, very personal to me, and was written for processing and therapeutic catharsis. Therefore I have no expectations for its reception.

It revolves around struggling and dealing with PTSD after an assault. Due to the sensitive nature of the content I have not tagged anyone in my tag list.

Close - is a similar oneshot dealing with the fallout of Sam’s trauma.

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It wasn’t like you hadn’t had nightmares before. You’d had plenty of them, usually he was coming back to finish what he’d started. Invading your space, and violating you all over again. It wasn’t always exactly the same, but it was the same story just told different ways. The day had been coming, you’d never be able to forget it. The countdown ticking off days of your mental calendar only grew stronger, and louder, reminding you more frequently in the days leading up to it.

Anniversaries were supposed to be reserved for good things. Birthdays, engagements, weddings, and so on. But this one wasn’t. It was a day you’d been dreading for months, wishing you could set the clock back, or skip ahead entirely. It was ever present in your head, that constant alarm blaring at all hours of the day reminding you both waking and asleep of what was coming. There were only a few days left and you were a mess.

Thinking you were doing okay, and then actually being okay are two entirely different matters. You could collect yourself well enough to make it through the day on autopilot. You learned the coping mechanisms. Stop and take a breath to recenter yourself when those horrible memories started bubbling under the surface of your skin. Look at your surroundings and ground yourself when the pain in your chest threatened to drown you.

Think of your safe place, the Peach Orchard you used to go to as a child. Where you would sit in the trees and eat Peaches straight from the branch and read all day until the sun went down, or until your stomach hurt. The place of endless sunset, fresh fruit and unyielding summer twilight. The place before the bad. Before you knew how bad the bad could be. Preparing yourself was the easy part, but really there is no preparation for reality.

It was no real surprise when the nightmares became more intense, more vivid, or when the flashbacks you had all too often began to play on an almost constant loop. You were trapped in that vicious cycle of remembering more than you were present and coherent in the days leading up to the Anniversary.

A year later and you could still feel him there. You could still feel the ghost of him in places so intimate and private that you were afraid you’d never scrub yourself clean enough. Closing your eyes you tried to swallow down the nausea that crept up your throat, suffocating you as blood rushed to your head making you dizzy.

It came in unpredictable waves, half the time you didn’t even know what triggered the flashbacks so vivid you were reliving what happened. All you could do was shut your eyes tight and breathe through it, reminding yourself where you were.

The kitchen. You’re in the kitchen. The coffee pot is right here, it’s black plastic, with a brushed steel faceplate. The fridge is over there, it’s old-school from the 60’s, white with silver-chrome handles, and 5 doors. The table is right behind you, with 4 attached stool seats. If you thought about it hard enough you could visualize the whole kitchen in your head, if you concentrated you could will the wave to subside.

“Y/n?”

His voice startled you, making your whole body flinch with a gasp as your eyes snapped open and you gaped at him wide-eyed like a deer in the headlights. Heart nearly beating out of your chest you set the pot of coffee in your hand back on it’s hot-plate as you tried to catch your breath. Sam’s brow furrowed as he stood at the top of the short set of steps.

“...You okay?” Caution in his voice as he asked. Slowly he stepped down the set of stairs but kept his distance. There was no telling how long he’d been standing there watching you zone out, but it was clearly long enough for him to observe the storm brewing in your head.

“Yeah. Yeah, of course. I’m fine.” You said with a half-hearted smile trying to recover, trying to shrug off the cruel full-body vision your brain kept replaying like some sort of cosmic joke.

I’m fine. It was a lie you told so often that you’d hoped eventually you’d convince yourself. Stepping around him with a wide berth and your eyes glued to the floor you mumbled, “it’s a fresh pot.”

“Y/n.” He said holding his hand out to stop you from walking away, but he didn’t touch you, he only gained your attention. Keeping your face in control, keeping stoic in spite of the panic that filled you to the brim was no easy task as you turned your eyes up to meet his soulful hazel ones.“Your mug is empty.”

Dropping your attention to the plain white mug in your hand you gazed at it for a moment your mind blank with the overload. You had no good excuses, no witty remark, you could say nothing. Eyes stayed on the cup as you extended it, offering it to him. Sam watched you carefully and accepted the mug. Every fiber of your being was so fried you had no idea what you were even doing. Your hand stayed frozen in time for a moment too long, fingers wrapped like a vice around the porcelain handle so tight your knuckles flushed white, and when you finally managed to pry them away your hand trembled. Everything snapped back into place as another wave of nausea rolled up from the pit of your stomach into a crushing pressure threatening to cave in your chest.

“I changed my mind.” You whispered, voice threatening to crack if you were only a little louder. Without giving him a chance to speak you vacated the kitchen, and only once you were out of view completely could you breathe again. Sam watched your odd exit, turning his eyes back to the cup in his hand not convinced in the slightest that you were fine.

Legs slung over the arm of the chair in the library you flipped absent minded through the pages of the book in your lap. You were reading the words on the page but if anyone asked you wouldn’t be able tell them what a single one said. Your focus was elsewhere, mind lost somewhere in that numb gray fog that seemed to close in all around you. When you weren’t hyper focused on the event that played out against your will you were drifting listless through the motions of the day and the tasks you were expected to complete. But your heart wasn’t in it, you weren’t even on Earth. You’d left your body. Floating somewhere in endless space simply waiting. Sleep took you at some point, there was no real telling when, time didn’t seem to matter or make sense when you were drifting in the void.

Then the nightmares started again. Seeing his face was all it took for your chest to heave struggling to breathe, paralyzed in fear, sucking in only short unsatisfying shocks of air. Then you could hear his voice, and feel his hands touching you, violating you, burning his fingertips into your skin and making you feel unsafe in your own body. He turned you into a prisoner of your own mind, robbing you of your security and in return leaving you filthy and desecrated. More than that, he left you afraid, paranoid and ever vigilant. And no matter how many times you told yourself that what you were seeing wasn’t really happening, that you were safe, that you were home where he couldn’t find you, where he couldn’t hurt you again it was never enough. He still came back, visiting you no matter the time of day. Reminding you of what he’d done to you, of what he took from you, of what he was still taking from you.

Sitting up with a start your eyes snapped open as you gasped a full lung of air. Your hands finding your face, palms pressing into your eyes as if you could wipe it away, but the echoes of his touch still vibrated on your skin, seeping into your bones. There was no stopping it, all of the coping mechanisms in the world weren’t enough to stifle the ever present reminder of your assault. And it was becoming too much. The strength you had struggled to cultivate over the last year was quickly faltering and you couldn’t seem to snap yourself out of the endless loop.

Sam eyed you from the table keeping to himself, only watching. You had been acting strange for days, less and less your usual self, more and more out of it. The thousand yard stare glossing over your face leaving your eyes increasingly more empty and dead had him worried enough to not want to leave you alone for too long. But simply keeping an eye on you and leaving you to your space was becoming more and more challenging. Something was eating you alive, and he feared what it might be. The far-away look in your eye, and how skittish you were had him terrified that he knew the answer.

Stone like a statue you remained with your hands covering your face until you could steady your breathing enough to stand without falling off the face of the planet. Dropping the book into the chair behind you as you stood you made a line to your bedroom. If you were going to lose it you were going to do it in private, where no one could see or hear you, where you could fight your battle alone. You just had to make it through the next few days. Then the clock would reset and you could begin healing again. Blood rushed to your head and you stumbled, pressing your hand flat against the concrete and brick wall of the hallway. Just a little further.

The moment you reached your room you shut the door behind you and braced your shoulders against it, pressing the back of your skull into the wood as you slid to the floor.

Maybe it was hours, maybe it was minutes, you couldn’t tell how long you sat there focusing on the inhale and exhale of air in your lungs, but a faint knock on your door jerked you unceremoniously back to reality once again.

“Y/n? It’s Sam.” His voice was soft and kind, he was concerned about you. Moving from your spot on the floor took far more effort than it should have, and by the time you were standing you were already exhausted. His eyes searched your face when you opened the door, you were so tired, and worn-out, it broke his heart a little. In one hand he held a little white mug full of creamy coffee, and it seemed so tiny in his large hand, and the other had a plate of toast and eggs, and bacon. “Hey, I didn’t think you had anything to eat this morning. There’s more bacon, Dean kind of went overboard.”

“Thanks.” You answered taking his offerings, not having the heart to tell him that even looking at the food, or thinking about it made your stomach churn.

“Do you, uhm…” He paused, choosing his words carefully. “Do you want some company?”

“Do I have to talk?”

“Only if you want to.” He answered, soulful eyes on you just wanting to be there for you. Thinking hard about it you finally answered with a short nod, and stepped to the side to let him in. Setting the plate and coffee mug on your dresser as he walked in you slumped to the floor at the foot of the bed with your knees tucked to your chest, and Sam followed suit, sitting beside you. Making good on his promise he didn’t ask you to speak, didn’t ask you to pull yourself together or to do anything other than simply exist with him at your side.

For a while you sat motionless and empty, but the longer he sat beside you the more your resolve had begun to deteriorate. Scooting closer you leaned your head against him and he shifted to make you more comfortable, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and holding you to his side. That suffocating feeling in your chest both seemed to grow overwhelming and subside simultaneously under his touch and the dam finally burst.

Air shuddered in your lungs as you fought to keep yourself composed, but when his grip tightened you fell apart. Wrapping your arms around his torso you hugged him and buried your face in the soft fabric of his plaid shirt as you choked back your sobs. He pulled you tight, arms enveloping your frame, long fingers threading through your hair and his lips pressed against the top of your head. He only held you as your body quaked riding out wave after wave of heart ache.

Not being able to help ease your pain was gut wrenching. He was helpless and it killed him. All they live for is to help people, to save people, but he couldn’t save you. He knew that hopeless, scared, weak feeling all too well. Knew how intense the flashbacks could get, sometimes feeling so real you could swear you’re back in the thick of it, reliving the trauma over, and over, and over again. Knew how deep that wound was, and how it never seemed to really heal. How that hurt only seemed to fester and reopen. And he wished to God that he could take that pain away.

After a while you began to settle, the pattern of breathing eventually slowing to match his, the thrum of his heart beating in his chest soothing your frazzled mind and bringing you some relief. The warmth radiating from his body seeped in through your skin warming your bones that had turned to ice, letting you, for a brief moment, feel more alive than dead.

Sam didn’t move, holding you tight, warm and comforting, and content to do so for as long as you needed, time meant nothing. He never asked you to explain yourself, never pressured you to disclose what had happened, he already knew. He could see it in your eyes, hear the pain in your cry, see the frailty in your jumpiness. He only offered you empathy, support and love, he’d have given you anything, you only had to ask. But you wouldn’t because that was what you needed. A release and his understanding without expectation.

“I’m sorry.” You whimpered, sniffing back the remaining tears, you had been tired before but now you were all but depleted. Every ounce of energy sapped from your body under the crushing weight of it all. Sam shook his head, the stubble on his chin scratchy against your forehead.

“You have nothing to apologize for.” He reassured, pressing a kiss into your hair. Unless you asked him to, or moved yourself, he wouldn’t let you go, willing to keep you wrapped in his arms for the remainder of all time if need be. “We’ll get you through this.”

“Will you stay with me?... Please?” Voice barely above a whisper, as if you were afraid of his answer, afraid of being alone. Afraid of the monster lurking in your own mind, ready to pounce the second you were left to your own devices. He nodded giving you a light squeeze.

“Of course. I’m not going anywhere.”

#sam x reader #sam winchester x reader #sam x you #sam winchester x you #sam fanfic #sam fic #sam fanfiction #sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester fic #sam winchester fanfic #anniversary #jena writes

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tamlins-stories-and-poems · 7 years

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Ok so this is a fic I’ve been writing for a while and is currently over like 60k words I think, but I’m only posting about 2k here as a sort of teaser. Basically this came about because @fire-fira and I were chatting about Bart and La'gaan and I ended wondering about if La'gaan had known and or helped raise Bart in the lost future. Lots of angst and fluff mixed together in this. If I get more than ten notes from people other than Fira and myself(preferably including reblogs) then I’ll post the next few sections! :D

Edit: Part two is [Here] if I did this right!

Uncle Laga was said to be the last Atlantean. He never joined the battles, he just watched the children of the rebellion. He loved kids, despite his gruff manner, they reminded him of his short time on some team. Some of the older folks called him Kraken, with awe in their voice. He’d snort in contempt when then did, and glance down at his peg leg before saying “Not anymore.” When Don and Melonie had their first two kids, Laga watched them too. When they had their second set of twins, Laga withheld a scream. He knew the face of the boy, and when the boy was named Bartholomew Allen the Second, Laga nicknamed him Bart. He started telling stories of the time before the Reach when Bart and his twin were old enough to understand them, a lot of them focusing on his friend Jaime. Bart somehow ended up in Laga’s lap a lot, or huddled against his side as one of the few younger kids got his favorite spot. When the kids hit twelve, they’d stop spending their time in uncle Laga’s care and move into mission training instead. Bart didn’t want that to happen. He looked up to his parents a lot, but they were never really around. Because they were both speedsters, they ran all over the planet to find people and resources, along with fighting the Bugs. He hated the Bugs. The Bugs destroyed Uncle Laga’s life, and Uncle Laga’s homes. They’d destroyed the Watch Tower. They’d poisoned Atlantis. They’d smashed the zeta ports. Now all Laga had left was hope that he’d find the second Kid Flash, who apparently went back in time. “You know, Bart,” Laga said one night, when the Allen kids were all huddled around him again, due to both their parents being on a mission, like most of the time. “If Kid hadn’t thought that killing the old host was the way to go, we might’ve had a Beetle on our side.” “What do you mean?” The five year old Bart asked. “The old Blue Beetle, he was my friend. We’d call him Blue, and tease him when he talked to his Scarab, and he saved my life a few times. But then Kid explained to the League how Blue was going to betray us, how he knew it would happen soon, and begged for permission to keep that from happening, in any way possible. We thought that he meant just sticking as close to Blue as possible. We agreed to let him. Blue’s body was found in Mongolia about a month later, but a new, giant Beetle had long since shown up and B-Kid blamed himself. He’d really liked Blue.” Laga explained. “Wait, but, if he killed Blue Beetle, why is there still Blue Beetle?” Bart asked, quietly. “Because the Bugs had technology that they were able to reset when our Blue died. Kid was convinced that they used it to control our Blue. Neptune’s beard, I miss those two.” Laga sighed. “Never you mind, Bart. The past is the past, and we don’t have the time travel to change it.” “But if we had time travel, you could go back and see your friends again, right, uncle Laga?” Bart guessed, putting his tiny elbows on La’gaan’s chest and resting his face on his hands. “I’m too old to save the world. I’m fifty, Bart. Even before the Bugs, even with people making sure I had healthy bones and joints that didn’t scrape every time they bent, I’d still be starting to push it with heroing.” Laga murmured. “They’ve been here almost forty years.” “So, who would you send to save your friends for you?” Bart asked. “Maybe one of you four. Would you like to go to the past?” Laga teased. “Is there food in the past?” Bart sighed longingly at the thought of food. “Yes, lots of it. Now go to sleep.” Laga said. He started singing in the Atlantean language, “Sweet water child…” he murmured, rubbing Bart’s back. Bart sang along to the lullaby until he fell asleep. Laga stared at the roof of the cave, as adults sobbed and screamed in the distance. The base wasn’t under attack again, but everyone here was traumatized. “Stay safe, my little electric eel. Don’t let your fear hurt our friends when you go.” He sighed, hoping that this time Bart would get to know Jaime well enough to try to save him from the Reach. “Please break this ekstassa time loop. Please save the world.” Laga had long since figured out that they had to be in a time loop of a sort. Future boy comes back to the past to stop what caused him to come back? Please, anyone who’d read any science fiction could tell you that that alone would be a time loop, and Kaldur had sent him a lot of science fiction when they were kids. Science fiction he and Lori and Bubbler would stay up far too late to finish reading on the computer they’d all built together. Laga sighed again, so much knowledge had been lost. Even if they could get rid of the Reach, nothing would be the same. Were his people truly lost? Had they really been poisoned or did they just lock themselves away like the amazons had? He hadn’t seen Cassie or Donna since the fall. Diana would look younger than him now. He wondered if she missed the Team as much as he did, or had she even made it back to earth after the incident with the trial? He’d seen Batman, but the head the Reach had claimed was Batman’s head was in truth Nightwing’s. Jason, the scum who had died, then never told anyone that he’d come back to life, had taken up the cowl after that. Now he’d passed it on the the Demon’s son, Damian, who had passed it off yet again to someone younger. Laga sighed again and closed his eyes. It was never good to think of the past.

.*.°.*.°.*.

Laga smiled as the children ran and played in the sun. “Why don’t you four ever join them?” He asked the Allen four. “I’m too hungry.” Yajri said, pitifully. “Same.” Her twin, Kuri agreed. “I have to save my energy. I use it so quickly.” Bart muttered, drawing his bony legs close to his stomach. Bart’s twin, Belle, said nothing. Her stomached was slightly bloated from hunger, but the rest of her was pure bones, as if her muscle had been eaten away in hopes of energy. She never spoke much anymore. She just stared, eyes hollow and longing, at where the other kids played. The Allen’s weren’t the thinnest kids. They got a lot of food, due to being speedsters, and being the children of the children of the two most important members of the rebellion. But Laga remembered how the speedsters had needed to eat before the fall, and sighed, supposing the kids were right not to play with the others. “Just be sure to talk with them when you can.” Laga said. “Social skills can save your life, and you can’t get proper social skills if you don’t hang out with people your age.” “Okay.” Yajri agreed for all of them. They wouldn’t. Everyone knew they wouldn’t. They’d sit together at story time, and be silent supports when Laga was needed, but they never talked to the other children alone.

.*.°.*.°.*.

The base had been attacked again. Laga had gotten most of the kids out. Belle had looked at them solemnly as he tried to get the kids out, and said, actually said, “I’ll die soon anyways. I need too much food. Give my portion to the others.” Then she ran off to the fight. Laga managed to get all the kids somewhere where they’d be safe and hidden, and convinced one of their attackers that they were hidden in a different spot, before the attack was eventually called off due to too many casualties on the Bugs’ side. Laga picked up the tooth that had been punched out of his mouth, and a scrap of cloth he’d ripped off a Bugslave’s shirt, and made it into a necklace, before digging the kids out of their hiding spot. Wally’s daughter had dropped by recently, and put her son, Raiku, into Laga’s care. She also dropped off a lot of nutrient tablets that had had the trackers and meta detectors removed. Laga wasn’t sure he believed that, especially after the last attack, but uncovering kids who didn’t look like they were about to starve to death was worth it, in his opinion. Even if they weren’t nearly enough for the speedsters. Even five a day hadn’t been enough to make Belle feel better. Laga knew she would’ve been the fastest if she’d had the energy to run. “Everyone okay?” He asked. Fred, named for peace by his Norwegian mother, took the tooth neckless and put it on Bart’s neck. “Yes, uncle Laga.” He said. “We’re fine. This time.” “Where’s Belle?” Bart asked. “Why can’t I feel her using the thing?” Laga winced. “She went to meet your good grandpa.” He said. “She’s dead?” Kuri shrieked, she was almost old enough to go into training now, Laga would have to see the back of her soon. “I’m sorry.” Laga said, and put a hand on her shoulder. She was slow for a Speedster, slower even than Wally, by a long shot, but she was still one of them. “She was too fast for me to stop. She said to give you all what would’ve been her share.” Bart hung his head. It was the first death that was real to him. Even his mother’s death hadn’t been fully real to him, since she was gone so often anyways. His dad had shown all the young speedsters some moves after that, but he still was rarely around. Almost like he couldn’t bare to se them. Laga picked him up, cradling the boy. “Let’s get back to the adults.” He said. The group trudged back to the wrecked base. They’d almost had buildings before this last attack. Yajri carried Raiku, who was only three, and cried with her twin. “Uncle Laga!” A twenty year old, the newest Longshadow, called. “They destroyed the food stores, bring the kids over and have them all eat something before everything spoils!” The non-Speedster kids rushed past him, everyone was always excited at the chance of more food. “Aren’t you hungry?” Laga asked the speedsters. “Belle’s dead. It’s not right to eat without her.” Yajri said. “She sacrificed herself so you all could live. Go eat.” Laga frowned. “If you don’t eat willingly, I will force feed you.” The three he wasn’t carrying trudged to the food, and Laga carried Bart over. Bart couldn’t stop crying. He was able to eat around his tears, but only food that was placed in his hands, and he cried harder whenever Laga tried to set him down. Laga started to sing a song he learned in the conservatory, “Stay strong, my sea child, stay strong, and fight. Stay strong, my sea child, and live through the night. Stay strong, my sea child, stay strong today, stay strong my sea child, ‘till the pain goes away. Stand strong, little sea child, stand strong for me, stand strong, little sea child, and kind please ye be. Stay strong, my sea child, though all seems but wrong, stay strong, my sea child, don’t pass along.” Bart had stopped crying, and was staring at Laga with wide, confused eyes. He hadn’t heard this lullaby since the night his mother died, when Laga had sung it to Don. Others, who had lost more, had heard it more often, and many people had begun to join in. “Yes, stay strong, my sea child, don’t let pain scar, stay strong my sea child, I know it be hard. Stay strong, my sea child, know I love you still, stay strong my sea child, don’t let pain kill. Stay strong, my sea child. Stand strong, little sea child. Stay strong, my sea child, and always come home to me.” The whole rebellion was singing by the last line, a few people had started crying, and many were hugging each other. “The death song?” Don asked, having just arrived back. “Who- how many this time?” “Flash.” Laga looked up at the man, guilt pulling his face taught. “I’m sorry. I tried to convince her to stay with the others. She was sure it was the only way.” “She took out nearly fifty Bugs!” Someone said. “She shredded them from the inside before they knew what was happening! We only lost three of ours today!” Don’s gaze swept over the kids, as his eyebrows drew together and his eyes grew wide. “No.” He said. “Belle? My baby Belle?” “She would’ve starved within the week if she hadn’t.” Laga said. “She wanted her death to mean something.” He gave another piece of food to Bart. “I tried to stop her, but she buzzed out from under my hand. I couldn’t think of her above the all of the others.” “How did she die?” Don asked, turning to the larger group. “She tackled me out of the way of Blue Beetle’s plasma cannon.” A woman said. Red Robin’s daughter, six months pregnant, a meta with healing powers. “I tried to save her, but my powers have been on the fritz since I conceived. All I could do was take away her pain.” “Did she say anything?” Don asked. “To apologize to Bart for her. To tell him she wished him life, and that she hoped he and their sisters would be well. Sweet water children.” Bart started crying again, and flung his arms around Laga’s neck. Laga held him close, rubbing his back soothingly. “Don.” Laga said. “The food stores have been destroyed. Eat, rebuild, and find us more food, please.” “My daughter’s dying words said nothing about me?” Don looked heartbroken. “Don, please don’t do anything too rash.” Jason said, frowning at the younger man. “Don’t leave us just because a child who saw you more as an idol than a family member didn’t mention you.” “You never did have any tact, Jason.” Laga sighed. “Don, sit down, now.” One good thing about raising the children in the rebellion, nearly everyone listened to everything Laga said, half on instinct. Several people sat, including Don. “Flash, listen to me, you are going to eat, you are going to help us rebuild, and you are going to find us more food, because you still have three children and a responsibility to the rebellion. And you are not going to do any of that recklessly, because no one here can afford to lose you. Do you understand?” Laga demanded. “Yes, uncle Laga.” Don looked down, tears dripping down his ash stained face. “She was my youngest.” “I know.” Laga put a gentle hand on the man’s shoulder. “Live for her. She wanted us all to be able to live. Now, eat.”

To be continued…

#la'gaan #bart allen #young justice #yj #found family #found family fic #TamLin's works #TamLin's writing #read more

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peace-coast-island · 7 years

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#ChoicesCreates28: Choices Crossover

Title: Eshajōri (#LoveHacks) - Part 2 Summary: Eshajōri - “people meet, always part”; the concept that expresses the idea about the impermanence of all things, that every human relationship will end someday due to the transient nature of life. Part 2 of Julie’s article where she interviews various people she met around the world. Featuring MCs from TRR and THoBM and other OCs from HSS and HWU. (Part one)

Prompt: Talk about someone who is special to you. But not just anyone, it has to be someone who isn’t really a part of your life anymore. Think about this person and why they left an impact on you.

Enid Zuberi

About her: Hi, I’m Enid and I’m from New York. Currently in Cordonia and there’s a lot of things going on so I’m just here for the ride. I don’t know what to expect but at this point I’m prepared for almost anything that comes my way.

Her story: One person who meant a lot to me, and still does, is my best friend Ollie. We’re still close but he’s busy with is life while I’m busy with mine so we don’t really hang out as much anymore. We also had another friend, Sera, who passed away a few years back. The three of us were inseparable and I couldn’t have asked for better friends than these two.

I’ve known Ollie since we were little kids. He’s kind of like my little brother and I still kind of treat him like one and although he won’t admit it I think he kinda likes it when I fuss over him. We’re from completely different backgrounds as he comes from a wealthy family while I came from a middle class family. Since his parents usually leave him with the housekeepers, he’s usually at my place or Sera’s. My parents treated him like a son and did more for him than his actual parents, no offense to them, just stating the truth. Though I’m happy to say Ollie is civil with his parents, which isn’t much but it’s better than nothing.

In college we started sort of doing our own thing as I stayed close to home, Sera went to Eagle U in Eden Villa, and Ollie went to Harvard. Doing the summer we’d go to our special place, so we’d bring out a boat, go sailing until we get there and set up a picnic. But after Sera died, it was hard for me and Ollie to go back there because of the memories. We did eventually but it’s been a few years since then.

Anyway, Ollie and I are kind of in our own world. He’s busy with his family’s law firm and I’m out here. I’ve been texting him a lot since I came to Cordonia to keep him updated on everything. He’s been really supportive and I wouldn’t know what I’d do without him. Since this trip was kind of last minute, we were bummed that we didn’t have time to say goodbye and stuff. I really miss him and once I get back home, however long that takes, I’m gonna make plans for us to hang out more.

Finn Dobrev

About him: Hey my name’s Finn and I’m kinda new here. I just became an actor thanks to my pal Lauren, you might know her, she’s um… well she’s nice once you get to know her. My home is at Bubblerum, which is like in the middle of nowhere so like no one has heard of it.

His story: So I grew up with my brother Cloud, who’s a ghost. No, he wasn’t alive before, he’s part of this species of ghosts who are just…ghosts. I don’t think I explained that well. He’s um…a standalone ghost I guess. Anyway I grew up with him and our mother, who adopted us, which is how we met. We were like two peas in a pod because we were different. His species is endangered and I’m not like completely human. Seriously, look, my limbs are cyborg parts and also I can time travel. You want proof about time travel? I can show you!

(What happened behind the scenes, aka someone had to spend a few extra hours editing this since she had to cut a lot of stuff out while trying to make sense of this mess…

Finn: You want proof about time travel? I can show you!

Julie: Um…is that safe?

Finn: Sure it is! What’s the worst that could happen?

Julie: A lot of things, actually.

Finn: Don’t worry, I won’t pull you through a time loop, this will only take you a few years back.

Julie: Wait a minute. What do you mean time loop? And this is just an interview You don’t have to - and you’re gonna do it anyway…

Time travel stuff happens. Surprisingly nothing is destroyed and everything is back to normal.

Finn: How’s that for the article?

Julie: Yeah I’m afraid i’m gonna have to cut that out.

Finn: Well the time travel is actually relevant to my story. And the time loop thing. It’s actually a very long story…

He wasn’t kidding)

So about the time loop thing. Cloud and I accidentally released this evil spirit which attacked this island where I found my bio mom and my sister, who I never knew because we were separated a long time ago, and that’s another story so I’m gonna skip that part. Anyway evil spirit destroyed the island several times. So Cloud and I decided to be heroes, well we kind of are back in Bubblerum and I should really get back to the main story.

Okay so Cloud and I locked the island in a time loop because if we didn’t the whole island would be dead and i wouldn’t be here talking to you. By doing that we went back in time several days before the attack so we could have another chance at defeating the evil spirit. And if we all get killed, the timeline resets so we can try again. Except it took like bajillion tries and for a while it seemed like no matter what we did it was hopeless and we kept dying horrible deaths. Time travel is pretty complicated, especially when you remember everything that didn’t happen.

And guess who broke the time loop and freed us from all these horrible deaths? It was Cloud, who sacrificed himself to destroy the evil spirit at the cost of his own life. By then it was like our final chance because you can only do so many do-overs so it was a lot of pressure. Cloud was a brave guy, the only one who has stuck with me for so long, so now it feels kinda weird without him. At least he died a hero, just like he always wanted. Google “Cloud the ghost fights evil spirit” if you want to know more about it, but ignore the articles by DailyTango because they never get their facts right, including our names.

Aminta Beaumont

About her: I’m Aminta, I live in Evergreen Oaks and I’m currently taking a gap year. I’m a student at Hartford majoring in finance with a minor in psychology and I hope to run my own accounting firm one day.

Her story: About a year ago I was going through a rough time in my life. And then I met Eleanor, who helped me open my eyes and face my problems. Although we only knew each other for a short time, our lives weren’t the same after that. It’s one of those little things that may not seem obvious but it ends up leaving something big.

When I first met Eleanor, I was lost and scared. I was haunted by my brother’s death and it was difficult. Eleanor was going through a rough time too as she went through a lot and goes to great lengths to take care of her siblings. The fact that we both were dragged down by our pasts brought us together.

For a while I stayed with Eleanor and became a caretaker for her siblings Clarissa, Thomas, and Simon. It took a while for them to warm up to me, can’t blame them though since I was a complete stranger who suddenly appeared, but soon it was like I was part of their family. For the first time in what seemed like forever, I didn’t feel like I was being weighed down or held back. But at the same time I knew that I was supposed to be looking for answers and for a way to put my past behind.

Confronting my demons wasn’t easy but I knew that I couldn’t keep running away. Eleanor was the type of person who was selfless, always giving and willing to protect her siblings no matter what. That’s another thing we had in common, wanting to protect our families because the truth was too painful. So we take that truth and carry it ourselves, shouldering the burden so no one else would. We had good intentions but even that can do more harm than good. Once we opened up, the burden fell away.

After that we went our separate ways. I didn’t know her for long but at the same time it felt like we spend a lifetime together. I wish we had more time together but it was time for us to start living again and our paths just don’t cross. I still think about her and the kids from time to time, wondering how they’re doing now. Maybe one day our paths will cross again but for now I hope she’s happy and at peace.

Viktor Maksimov

About him: My name’s Viktor, I’m from Moscow and staying with my aunt in Peace Coast Island. I’m an athlete, which is another reason why I’m here and I like to do gymnastics, sing, dance, and skate.

His story: My mother was my number one supporter. She encouraged me to work hard, do my best, go for the gold, all that motivating stuff. I’m a competitive athlete so I travel a lot, and no matter what, my mom was always there. We come from a family of competitive athletes, my mother and my aunt were dancers. Mom retired after getting married and later became a dance instructor. You might have heard of my aunt, Anna Nikolaev, the one who was on that show Cooking Competitor. So, yeah, we’re a pretty athletic family.

It’s been over a year since the worst day of my life, and that was Mom’s death. She went to watch my aunt perform at Nationals while the rest of us watched the competition through a livestream. On the way back to the hotel they got into a bad car accident that involved two other cars. Mom didn’t make it, Anna and her dance instructor were badly injured. It was a difficult time knowing that Mom was gone and Anna’s life was hanging by a thread.

I think it was Mom who helped me through that difficult time. Or at least her memory. It’s not easy being a competitive athlete and there were times when I wanted to quit because the pressure was too much. Mom was the one who helped me when I felt that way. She taught me how to confront my fears. That it was okay to be scared and unsure. That even when things don’t go well, in the end everything will work out. She also taught me how to deal with stress like through meditation and mindfulness. The first few months without her were tough but by remembering what she taught, I somehow managed to pull through.

So Mom, wherever you are, I hope I can make you proud. You’ve done so much for me and I want to return the favor.

Sapphire Landry

About her: Name’s Sapphire. I live in Peace Coast Island with my besties Spencer and Steven. I like to sing and dance and I have a big sweet tooth. Trilingual, blind right eye, lazy, musically inclined, fashionista, sassy, I think you get my personality.

Her story: A long time ago, okay so not that long ago, I had a partner in crime. Her name was Lizzie and she was my BFF. As you can tell from the fact that I used past tense, she is sadly no longer with us. I still find it hard to believe.

This actually happened a long time ago, four years, when our lives changed forever. By accident Lizzie and I became time travelers. No, seriously we were doing a project, accidentally knocked something over, stuff exploded, we woke up in a hospital and bam! time travel. I’d show you but my powers are kind of unstable but it’s been a while so maybe it’ll be okay. Here I go…

(Julie: That won’t be necessary, thank you. So I’m guessing time travel is relevant to the story?

Sapphire: Yeah, probably bad idea… Besides my powers are kinda inactive, not since the illness but that’s another thing but it’s also kinda relevant…)

So we become time travelers but because of how we got our powers it means that we’re unpredictable. But no worries, we went along with this time travel scientist and her son Spencer who was our classmate so we got things under control. Well most of the time. The four of us were a great team!

Then last year, things went downhill. We lost half the team so Spencer and I were left. His mother took us to a clinic, can’t remember too much about it, but there was some mystery illness causing an epidemic. No one knew how bad it was until it was too late. We were visiting Spencer’s father, who’s a huge jerk by the way, and then we all got sick. There was nothing the doctors could do and Lizzie died. I never even got to say goodbye.

Lizzie was more than a best friend, she was a sister. I practically lived with her, in fact I tried but ended up getting in trouble. We were always attached by the hip, maybe sometimes a bit too close. She was the one who kept me out of trouble even though we ended up in it anyway. She always knew what to do when things got chaotic. Hell, I even miss the things I don’t like about her like when she nags about things or go all snarky when she’s mad. She was one of a kind.

Losing her was like losing a huge part of me. We were always known as Lizzie and Sapphy. Now it’s just Sapphy. I’m still not used to it but I’m trying.

You know, maybe it’s a good thing Lizzie isn’t here right now because if she heard what I just said about her and being all mushy and stuff I bet she’ll make fun of me for it!

Owen Rahajaro

About him: I’m Owen and I’m a student at Hollywood U and a regular performer at Starlight Theater. I like to sing, act, dance, and perform stunts. Starlight has been my home for over seven years and I recommend if you have the time, stop by and watch a show.

His story: Growing up I was raised by my father, who was a traveling musician. He’d visit many places, playing his sitar. I was surrounded by music so obviously my life revolved around that. We didn’t have much except for each other, and music, of course and that was more than enough.

Dad passed away when I was nine after being ill for months. By then we settled in London where he became a teacher. His health had been slowly declining by then, which is why he decided to stop traveling. I didn’t find out about that until much later, after he died. I remember pacing around the hospital, not fully understanding what was going on expect that my father was very sick. Never in my life had I felt so scared.

It’s still painful to talk about his final weeks. Seeing my lively and outgoing father lying in a hospital bed with tubes and wires attached to him, is something that will always be hard to think about. But I didn’t want his last memories to see his son sad and scared so I did my best to make him happy. Because if he was happy, then so was I. He did a lot for me and now that he wasn’t going to be here for much longer scared him. I made a promise to him and to myself that I would be strong and I’m still keeping to my word.

One thing I remember about my dad’s final weeks was how much he talked about my mother. She died when I was a baby so all I have is pictures of her and stories dad told me about her. During long nights at the hospital, he told me about her, things that you don’t hear in stories. Like how she started the day by opening the curtains wide open to bring in the sunlight or that she was a perfectionist who would spend hours banging on piano keys writing a song and driving her neighbors crazy in the process. It was then I realized that soon he won’t be here anymore.

Sometimes it’s hard to believe that he’s been gone for almost fourteen years. There are days when I can remember him clearly and days when I struggle to remember. He was a big part of my life and I miss him every day. I bet he’s happy up there with mom.

#ChoicesCreates #choicescreates28 #choices stories you play #playchoices #LoveHacks #the royal romance #the haunting of braidwood manor #headcanon ramble #so this is a continuation of my previous entry for the travel prompt #since i didn't have time to include my trr and thobm mcs #also julie put a lot of work into this article so like she interiewed what like 12 people that's a lot of work #so finn and owen from hwu and viktor and sapphire from hss #i have like this whole plot things about sapphire called friends in time you can search it on my blog #also finn has a long ass bio which is in my drafts that goes in depth about his story #julie just got the short version though she had to like edit a lot of it because the way finn explained it was confusing #like he gets sidetracked super easily #Julie Nagarkar #Enid Zuberi #Finn Dobrev #Aminta Beaumont #Viktor Maksimov #Sapphire Landry #Owen Rahajaro

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andrewsfic · 5 years

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The Ranger

This was my first proper “original setting” piece of fiction. Now, yes, “the real world but supernatural creatures do exist” is an extremely common trope. This was absolutely drawing on things like Ben Aaranovic’s “rivers of london” series, and Wynonna Earp.

The story was inspired by a discussion with a friend about how “Park Ranger” is probably a job that sounded a lot cooler than the reality.

“This is KZA2, KZA2, Help us, help us…..”

That was the call the ranger station had heard over the radio. Everyone knew KZA2, The little cabin in the forest out near Big Peak, the imaginatively named mountain that loomed to the north west. The three chaps that lived up there kept themselves to themselves mostly, but weren't unfriendly, unlike a lot of the little enclaves like that in the vast wilderness the rangers had responsibility for. Tended to be if you disappeared to live in a cabin up in the forests, far away from the society, it’s because you wanted to be left well alone. It had taken almost an hour to get up there. Reyas and Sgt. Brownell in the truck, while Ranger (2nd class) Sarah Martin had taken the Quad. What met her was a scene of horror.

The first two where both in the main cabin. The smaller man, she thought his name was Ryan, had been evicerated. He was lying face up, innards spilling from the gash across his belly. The second was in the corner. She’d only known the big guy as “Lofty”. They found him in the corner, curled up in the fetal position, hands to his throat, body stiff with rigor mortis. She couldn’t get the smell out of her nostrils, even now. None of it was new, it does not take long as a ranger to come across some nasty accidents, and wounded or dead animals where such a regular part of the job they were almost unremarkable, especially down in the more touristy, and so car heavy, areas down south. But something about that smell of still cooling blood, shit and piss had stuck with her. And no amount of fresh mountain air was clearing it. They’d found the last of the men, Stefan, by following the two sets of bloody footprints. One set human, one not. They both lead to the small outbuilding next to the big antenna. Obviously where they kept the radio set. His hand still held the radio mic. It had been severed at the wrist. The cable had also been severed. Sarah had always found him the best of the three. Lofty and Ryan had always been a little more withdrawn, while Stefan had always greeted her with a smile any time her duties had taken her up that way, or the men swung by the ranger station on their occasional trip into the local town. Stefan hadn’t gone down without a fight either. The bloody knife a few feet away from his limp body made that clear. “He did them” said Reyas, surveying the scene. “Then topped himself”. “Don’t be fucking stupid” Sarah snapped. “He clearly was the one who called for help” she pointed at the radio. “And what about those wolf prints” she swung her arm to point out of the doorway “they didn’t come from nowhere” “And then the wolf went out here” This came from Brownell, outside the hut. “Jumped out that window” Reyas followed Sarah as they exited and walked round the back. Brownell was stood looking at the treeline a couple of hundred meters away. “Looks like there’s a blood trail” he said grimly. “Ranger Martin. You’re the better tracker of the three of us, see what you can see. Reyas, get in the truck, I want you to get on the long range set, we need a team up from the main base ASAP” “What about you Sarge?” “I’m going to wait here, keep the scavengers off, otherwise those three will be gone by morning. Martin you join me when you get back”

Sarah trudged back to the quad bike, grabbed her bag from the back, and picked up the rifle from the front. The City PD officers had laughed at it last time she went down to their range for official requalification. Then she’d fired the first shot, and they’d realised that while it wasn’t as modern as their issued assault rifles, the lever action’s .45-70 government cartridge packed rather more punch than they were carrying. She racked the action, set the safety, and topped the magazine tube up with an extra cartridge from the loops on the leather cuff around the stock. If the six big soft-points didn’t stop a threat, nothing would. Shouldering her pack, and holding the rifle, she headed back to the radio hut. The big truck chugged into life behind her as Reyas started his journey back to the station. She nodded at Sgt Brownell. “If I’m not back in two hours, send help.” “Keep safe ranger” Glancing down at the blood trail, she made her way to the treeline, and then into the forest. Walking into the trees was like walking into a different world. Suddenly it was dark. The overhead foliage blotted out the sunlight, leaving a spooky twilight world of tree trunks, fallen branches and a spongy layer of fallen needles coating the floor. The fallen needles also seemed to deaden the sound, making what little sound there was seem muffled and distant. And snaking through it was a steady line of blood drops. Usually on the floor, although here and there was a patch on the side of a tree. Some about two and a half feet off the ground. That meant it was unusually large, for a wolf.

After around half a mile, the blood trail lead to a pool of blood on the ground, next to an especially large tree. Sarah crouched to look closer. The disturbed needles, a couple of freshly broken twigs to the left, suggested something big had curled up there. Probably to lick its wounds, she thought.

“so why did you move on?” she murmured.

She dipped her right index finger into the pool. Still warm. Very warm.

A further trail of blood lead west, no longer heading uphill, but instead following the contours of the slope. Sarah moved slower now. The blood drops where closer together, as if whatever was bleeding was moving slower now. She adjusted her grip on the rifle. Whatever it was probably would catch wind of her soon. And that made it dangerous. The blood trail continued to a small hollow that formed a clearing. That’s where she found the wolf. It was slumped in the base of the hollow, in the warm spot the sunlight formed. The gash in it’s front flank was still bleeding freely, matting the fur around it, and pooling in the needles below. Other than that, at first glance it was quite handsome, even for a wolf, with sleek grey fur, powerful legs, and a well proportioned head. Closer inspection revealed the further blood matting the fur around its feet, and it’s muzzle. Which forced Sarah's mind back to what she had seen in the cabin, now so far away. The wolf raised its head as she moved to the edge of the treeline. It’s growl revealed a set of very sharp teeth, but seemed rather weak, considering the size of the beast. But that didn’t change what she needed to do. She shouldered the rifle. Normally she’d attempt a heart shot, it was less messy and highly effective at putting wounded animals out of their misery quickly. But her angle was awkward, and having seen what the wolf had done to Lofty, Ryan and Stefan, she didn’t want to give it a chance to find a last reserve of energy to get her while she repositioned for a better shot. She aimed for it’s head. BOOM A single shot rang out through the forest. A cloud of birds few up from a nearby set of trees, and a hole appeared in the wolfs head, right between its eyes. Blood and brain matter sprayed onto the ground behind it. The wolf slumped like a puppet with its strings cut. Sarah breathed out, and looked around. She never enjoyed putting animals down. Even if it was a regular part of the job. She looked back down at the body. And wretched. The body was changing. It was like the fur was retracting back into the skin. And the skin was stretching in some places, while it seemed to contract in others. Meanwhile, every single bone seemed to break, reform, and then reset themselves. When she looked up again, the body lying there was very clearly not the body of a wolf, but the body of a human man. Face down. With a hole in the back of his head.

A loudly snapping twig brought her out of her confusion. She pivoted to face the noise, raising her rifle again. A wolf stepped out from the treeline, looking straight at her. It cocked it’s head to one side. Then.. just like the corpse had, it changed. This time she was ready for it, but even so, Sarah could feel the bile rising in her throat. The man that stood before her was tall, well muscled, and extremely naked. Not that he seemed self conscious about the fact. He held his hands up. “Don’t shoot” his voice had an odd, bark like quality. He shook his head, and coughed. “Please”. Now his voice was more human. Less gruff. Sarah lowered the rifle, although it remained in her shoulder. “What the fuck is going on” she demanded. “You are the ranger, and you don’t know?” “What?” The man gestured at her “The ranger.” “I’m a ranger, yes. That’s not helping” “I suppose they don’t tell you anymore, do they.”

“WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN!?” The man sighed. “They call us skinwalkers. Or Werewolves. Your choice. This scumbag went rogue. You saw the results.” “And you where hunting him?” “He broke the law. Killed people. We can’t let that stand” “This isn’t real” Sarah shook her head. “I must have hit my head or something” The man shook his head “Fraid not. Although we hear that a lot” “So you’re real?” “Yes” “And you can turn into wolves” “Yes” “And...” The man held up his hand cutting her short. “You should talk to your chief. He still knows the old ways” “Chief Hanlon” The man nodded. “Tell him Skunk’s son says hi. He’ll know what it means. And now, you should go” “And what do I do about this?” she motioned at the body. “I can’t take him back with me, they’re expecting a wolf. I’ll be branded a murderer”. “Leave him” “And tell my bosses what?” The man shrugged. “You caught up, shot him, then the rest of the pack turned up. You got driven off, but made it out.” “And what will you do with the body” “Don’t worry. By the time anyone else gets here, he’ll be long gone.” Two more wolves padded out of the treeline. “Now, you should go, your friends will start to worry” Sarah turned and started walking. Her head spinning. A few days later, at the main station: “Chief Hanlon. Could I have a private word sir?” The old chief nodded and motioned to the chair in front of his desk. Sarah closed the door and took the seat. “How can I help you Ranger?” he asked. “Sir, There was someone else in those woods that day. They told me to tell you that Skunk’s son says Hi. They said you’d know what that means?” Chief Hanlon leaned back in his chair, stroking his mustache. “Well I’m damned. There’s a name I haven’t heard in a long time” “Sir, who is Skunk?” The chief chuckled. “Ranger Martin, I am about to be told secrets about things that officially do not exist. Stories which date back to the early days of the Ranger service, and even before. You don’t talk about this to anyone else, unless you are the one sitting in this chair, understand?” “Yes sir” “Good. Now let me tell you about my old mate skunk, the skinwalker…..”

#Fic #fiction #Original setting

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