Chapter 2 of my slow burn Five/OC fic 'Electric Feel' is up on AO3
https://archiveofourown.org/works/88548226
October 1st, 1989
Ashley Winslow was fifteen years old, scared, and desperately searching for an exit. Her busted lower lip stung as she sipped bitter coffee from a chipped brown diner mug, hands curled around it like an anchor. Ancient fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, flickering on occasion and washing everything in that too-bright, too-flat glow that helped make truck stops feel like weird, liminal spaces â perpetually in-between.
She told herself sheâd figure things out. That she had time. She could keep going west, maybe find work under the table in California, or maybe disappear into The City, where no one knew her name. She just had to get out of here.
Then pain was tearing through her body, sudden and overwhelming, like someone had reached a hand into her gut and squeezed with all their might.
Ashley gasped in shock and pressed her hand to her abdomen like it might relieve the pressure. Her first thought was that sheâd underestimated the kicks her stepfather had given her as a parting gift. Maybe heâd fucked up her insides or something?
The diner table scraped against the checkered linoleum floor with an ear-splitting screech. Coffee sloshed onto the laminate as the ceramic cup clattered onto its side, but she hardly noticed. Instead, she stared in panic and horror as in the span of a single breath, her stomach â her flat, fifteen-year-old stomach â had ballooned outward, stretching painfully against her coat.
Somewhere, someone was shouting, but Ashley couldnât hear them over the white-hot terror ringing in her skull. She gasped, legs trembling, hands pressed against her now impossibly swollen belly, suddenly and violently pregnant.
A contraction ripped through her, dropping her to her knees with a cry.
The voices around her blurred together, panic and confusion twisting them into a single cacophony. A waitress with tired eyes and nicotine-stained fingers crouched beside her, pressing a rough hand to Ashleyâs sweat-slick forehead.
âAlright, honey,â she drawled, unimpressed, as if this was any other day on the job. âLooks like youâre havinâ a baby.â
Ashley barely had time to sob before the next wave of pain took her under. And so it was that little Marigold Winslow came screaming into the world, the chaos and panic of her birth setting the tone for what was to come.
*occtis tachonis voice* you can date me but first you have to defeat my evil dad, my evil granddad, my seven *checks notes* five evil siblings, my unexamined classism, my two evil cousins and their evil boytoy knight, my two evil aunts, my unexamined CPTSD that has completely fucked my ability to manage interpersonal conflict, my one evil uncle, another evil knight (not a boytoy), and Wicander Halovar, not because he's evil but because fuck him for reasons that (you guessed it) I haven't examined. (Also if you could get any info on my mom that would be great.)
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
On the 12th hour of the first day of October 1989, 43 women, blah, blah, blah. We all know the drill.
Meet Mari (MAHR-ee) Winslow, a scientist working for the Temps Commission in Metaphysical R&D, and one of the thirty six children not adopted by an eccentric billionaire.
Recruited by the Commission at age seventeen, she has been an exemplary employee while keeping her identity as one of the children born that day - and her ability to manipulate electromagnetic forces - a secret.
When a kid in short pants blows up the Briefcase Room, she's shocked to discover the 'teen' was actually skilled temporal assassin and former Commission agent, Five Hargreeves.
Now she is determined to find him in the timeline and study him, waiting for the moment she can make him pay for throwing the Commission, and her life, into chaos.
((Excerpt from the first chapter below the cut))
"Did you hear? Apparently, The Handler's little âpet projectâ has managed to shake off his leash. She has been an absolute terror for the past couple of days. Neil tried to drop off a report that she had specifically asked for, and she nearly cut his head off. Literally!â
It was Tuesday, which meant lunch with Laurel, and they had stocked pecan pie in the automat. Mari met her friendâs wide brown eyes over the small plastic door between them, unable to stop the small hum of excitement she made when she pulled out a generous slice of gooey pecan pie. Even with her moment of bliss so close, the mention of The Handlerâs fury made her wince, her lips thinning into an irritated line.
âThat explains her sudden obsession with Project Redford,â she sighed. âWeâve told her that condensing the power needed for that device to her specifications is impossible, just like thereâs a reason the briefcases are the size they are. But she refuses to take ânoâ as an answer.â
The pair made their way to the same laminated table as always and took their usual seats, Laurel smoothing her navy skirt primly before offering Mari a sympathetic smile.
âHas she ever? But I get your meaning. This whole thing with Number Five has her in a rare mood and sheâs been taking it out on anyone unlucky enough to cross her path.â As Laurel spoke, Mari added cream and sugar to her coffee, the spoon chiming softly against the ceramic as she stirred.
âThe scuttlebutt is that he was on the Dallas job,â she continued. âYou know that blinky jump trick he does? Well, they are thinking he somehow used that to slip free, seeing as his briefcase was left behind at the scene. Can you believe it? A psycho killer like him running loose in the time stream, without any supervision?â
Mariâs fingers twined in a crimson curl that had fallen from the messy mop sheâd piled atop her head, and she absentmindedly tugged at it while recalling the few encounters sheâd had with the Corrections Agent.
The guy sheâd met had come across as brusque and like a bit of a know it all, but nothing about the mustachioed man matched the awe-filled murmurs sheâd heard floating in the halls.
âLast I heard theyâd managed to track him down to 2019, and who knows what chaos he could create there?â
Mari scrunched her nose at the thought. â2019? Thatâs so close to the end, though. Why would he go there?â
Though Mari had never been aware of the exact details, pretty much everyone in the Commission knew that the timeline they tended was destined to end in 2019. Everything the Commission did was in the service of making sure events happened the way they were supposed to, and corrections would be made as needed to ensure that.
Corrections were where Five had excelled. In fact, heâd probably done more than any other singular agent to ensure that the apocalypse would arrive as expected. With an entire timeline at his disposal, what reason did he have to go back there?
âWho knows,â Laurel continued with conviction. âI know youâre in Metaphysical, but even you should be able to see this is a big deal! Something as small as a barber getting food poisoning could alter the course of history. Who knows what sort of trouble he could cause, mucking around out there?â
The rhythmic click of stilettos pierced the atmosphere like gunfire causing casual conversation in the cafeteria to grind to a halt, ending their journey at the end of Mari and Laurelâs table.
The Handler stood before them, elegant and intimidating as always. She was wrapped in a black and red cocktail dress, with a tasteful feathered fascinator perched in her perfectly coiffed hair. The long, thin cigarette holder in her hand added a flourish of old-world menace as she held it just so and exhaled a plume of smoke, uncaring that they were indoors. Suddenly Mari felt like her jeans and cardigan left her a little underdressed.
âLook at you,â The Handler purred with a smile like a barracuda. âIndulging in a delightful little treat.â
Her eyes flicked pointedly to the half-eaten pecan pie on Mariâs tray. âRewarding yourself for solving our little power conundrum, I take it?â
Mari sighed, meeting The Handler's gaze with a glare. âI already told you. The amount of power you are asking for wonât fit into something that small. Even metaphysics has its limit, and the kind of output you are asking for canât be stored in a form factor the size of a lipstick tube.
âWell then, arenât you fortunate?â The Handler's smile broadened. âI have a new project for you, allowing us to set your current shortcomings aside - at least for the time being.â
Mari leaned back in her chair, not bothering to hide the scowl on her face as she crossed one denim clad leg over the other.
âAnd whatâs that?â she inquired, brow raised in suspicion. Leave it to The Handler to act like adding yet another âspecial projectâ to her plate was a gift.
"I require a body."
Mari wouldnât have been able to stop her scoff if she wanted to. âYou've always excelled at creating those all by yourself, Handler.â
The Handler placed one gloved hand on her chest dramatically as she waved the other at Mari, feigning modesty.
âOh, stop. Flattery will get you nowhere, darling,â she said as she preened.
âNo, what I truly need is a new body, a blank slate, if you will. Letâs say twenty-five years old, keep him spry. Though I will miss the short pants,â she chuckled to herself. With a click, The Handler opened her Chanel purse and withdrew three glass vials: one containing blood, another with a lock of dark hair, and the last with nail clippings, which she placed on the table.
âThat should provide sufficient material to get you started, I presume? I sincerely hope that this time you will be able to meet my expectations - I do so detest disappointment.â
Chapters: 1/?
Fandom: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Relationships: Number Five | The Boy (Umbrella Academy)/Original Female Character(s), Number Five | The Boy (Umbrella Academy) & Original Character(s)
Characters: Number Five | The Boy (Umbrella Academy), All Brellies at some point, The Handler (Umbrella Academy)
Additional Tags: Alternate Timelines, Time Travel, Enemies to Lovers, Slow Burn, Attraction to a 58 year old occupying a 13 year old body, Aged-Up Number Five | The Boy, eventually, The Temps Commission (Umbrella Academy), Stalking, OFC is not a Brellie, OFC Has Powers
Summary:
On the 12th hour of the first day of October 1989, 43 women, blah, blah, blah. We all know the drill.
Meet Mari (MAHR-ee) Winslow, a scientist working for the Temps Commission in Metaphysical R&D, and one of the thirty six children not adopted by an eccentric billionaire.
Recruited by the Commission at age seventeen, she has been an exemplary employee while keeping her identity as one of the children born that day - and her ability to manipulate electromagnetic forces - a secret.
When a kid in short pants blows up the Briefcase Room, she's shocked to discover the 'teen' was actually skilled temporal assassin and former Commission agent, Five Hargreeves.
Now she is determined to find him in the timeline and study him, waiting for the moment she can make him pay for throwing the Commission, and her life, into chaos.
stage 1 of liking media: yeah this thing is pretty good!
stage 2 of liking media: haha remember when blorbo bleepus did that thing that was so funny
stage 3 of liking media: huh this one song is kind of blorbo bleepus⊠if you think about this other song is also kind of blorbo bleepus
stage 4 of liking media: blorbo bleepus is really interesting⊠hereâs a sensible analysis post
stage 5 of liking media: FUCK. THE CHARACTER. THE CHARACTER IM HAVING A CHARACTER ATTACK
stage 6 of liking media: well letâs see what ao3 has to offer!
stage 7 of liking media: everything goes on my character playlist. this song with no lyrics is about blorbo bleepus exploding a building and looking really cool. if this lyric was an entirely different sentence it would fit perfectly
stage 8 of liking media: who wants to hear about these characters new pronouns and mobility aids
"That's the real torture, you know" says the guy who no longer feels pain, doesn't remember dying, and just watched Klaus get actually physically tortured WHILE going through withdrawal and obviously being plagued by constant other ghosts.
I know Sparrow Ben is a dick, but I think Ben Prime is too, y'all.
Watching ep3, I've fallen so behind. But I swear, I love when the show gives me something new to back up my weird headcanons/rewrites.
In my fanfic, Reginald is actually using the Hotel Oblivion to harvest the marigold from destroyed timelines like the Weeping Angels from Doctor Who.
He brought the Brellies back together with his death in order to guarantee the apocalypse so that could fuel his perfect universe machine.
After the Sinnerman fight when Diego is turning off Grace, she is embroidering an image of a destroyed moon. The exact thing Viktor will do to end the timeline in six days. She knew what was going to happen.
andulkaphoto
blakekathryn
discoholicmusic
