I am Valk, and here you will find writting and art of my original characters/settings, snipets and short stories. There is also some whump.
Feel free to look around and ask me anything. Hope you enjoy the small worlds you're about to embark.
Masterlist:
Nothing Personal. Just business. - CW. Yakov is not having the best of times in prison.
Sector 43 - Bryan gets a visit from an old school friend. Dystopic Setting.
Standing Guard - Young Prince Phillip struggles to stay awake. Medieval Fantasy Setting.
Marjory - sometimes, nothing also hurts, Yakov!
What if whumper is the one asking for Whumpee help? - inspired by my OCs Yakov and George.
Lazer Tag - main OC trio, Ethan, Yakov and Zimsky, play lazer tag.
"Please don't leave me." - a bit of Ethan's background (a non-canon version or maybe differnet AU?)
"Best Man" - slice of life dialogue between Yakov and Ethan
"Standing Ovation" - Aiden struggles to choose the right words. Medieval Fantasy Setting.
"Isolation" - whump prompt (first person POV) Guard pov in medieval setting
Lose dialogue
Ethan and Yakov (original charcaters)
Coffee terrace
Yakov (Y) - "Are you sure?"
than (E) - "Yes, I trust you. You're competent, loyal, a good friend."
Y - "No, are you sure you want to get married?"
E - "What do you mean?"
Y - "You know I don't support monogamy, nor polyamory... The whole institute of marriage is just a scam by the government-"
E - "That's a shame. I'll ask Zimsky then." He smirks.
Y - "Zimsky, why? There are other ways to sabotage one's marriage. Getting Zimsky to be your best man is the same as going to chemo to get a hair cut!"
E - So, you think you could do better?"
Y - "Of course I could! What kind of question is that?"
E - "Will you?"
Y - "Not only will I be such a great best man, I will put other weedings to shame!" Yakov stops protesting, realizing how Ethan inverted the game.
Didn't use the line, but used it as an inspiration for the drabble. Hope you like it.
Original character: Ethan Aldebaran
Original setting. Non-canon event. (at least, it wasn't quite like this, that it happen *smirks* )
The group of armed man invade the house in an excellent show of precision and focus. Washing away each division of the manor in perfect synchrony. They know whom they are after, and have all the evidence needed to confidently barge in at the middle of the night, where a well-known family lives.
It is the fear of the daughter that wakes up the couple first, and before they could put their feet on the floor, orders are being shout with guns pointed at them.
Everything is happen so fast, they don’t even have time to think and it’s the distress that these man provoke, that makes the couple drop to the floor, even though the orders seem to be shouted in an amalgamation of words.
The woman is the first to show her panic, hearing the daughter call for her. It’s impressive what protection instinct can make us do. How adrenaline makes those we usually see being calm and kind, turning furious in one second. She would never hurt a fly. It’s what they usually say, and tonight, she’s fighting so hard, it is necessary two men to come to the rescue of their colleague and pull her out of the room.
She shouts for her daughter name, she curses and finally she calls the one who was asleep at her side, but is now paralyzed, looking at this horror. When his brain clicks, adrenaline rushes to him so fast he believes he can run at an impossible speed towards his wife. One punch in his face, is enough to make him change his mind.
The world is loud, the ears buzz, and the vision attempts to clean the blurriness. He’s never been punched before, much less in the face. It pounds so much he can feel his heart beat on his cheek. And the world that has been showing in slow motion, finally catch up to reality.
He is left with nothing but the screams of his daughter fading in the hallway and the wife being ripped away from his reach. He’s on his knees, surround, with the men keeping their senses sharp. If anyone was watching this unfold, they would question the use of such violence. Has if he is the most dangerous thing in this room.
Except, he is.
“Do you believe in ghosts, Mr. Aldebaran?” a pair of shining boots reflects the result of the punch. Only tasting the blood, when he sees it.
The man who spoke crouches, meting Aldebaran eye to eye who flinches back expecting another punch. Instead he is meet with a smile of a successful hunt.
“I believe in ghosts, because I am looking at one right now.” The man scrutinizes Aldebaran face for any reaction, but he spoke so cryptic, the poor soul does not understand.
He shows him a black and white picture of the dining area of a restaurant. “This is you, right?” The dining room is so full, the man bulky finger almost covers Aldebaran face in the picture, but he remember that day. So much so the noise of the crowd, and the smell of the cosy food, comes to mind.
His body is shaking so much, it is hard to distinguish between fear and confirmation. But to the one asking the questions, it’s enough for what he needs to continue.
“We have a hand full of pictures like this one. You know what the one thing they have in common is? They were all taken prior a Mr. Aldebaran death.” He does not give Aldebaran a chance to participate in the conversation. He’s required by law to explain the situation. The Ivory Tower likes their streets clean, and the population organized, but they love their laws more.
“Do you now understand why I believe in ghosts?” he pokes the photo in Aldebaran nose before getting up, making him flinch again.
It is starting to feel humiliating how he can’t control his body. He feels his strengths melting into the centre of the earth and gravity feeling heavier and heavier. Worse things is, guilt. He should have shouted at the man by how they treated his family, stand up for them, protect them. But it’s already so hard to breath.
The leader stomps his boots on the wooden floor, looking on his surroundings. Shelves stack with books. A desk visually showing a brainstorm in progress. The blueprint speaking in a language he does not understand but know it is important for his superiors. The only reason why one could call this a bedroom, is because of the bed, which looks more like an intruder in this environment. Long and heavy curtains, Crimorean carpets, the real ones, not the ones you can find on the market by an accessible price. A picture in copper frame, of a young girl smiling, showing her first baby tooth in her small fingers.
“You live quite well, for a turncoat.” He can’t hold a chuckle to the picture. All so… normal. He almost feels disappointed. “I can give you credit for that.” He puts the picture down and continues his journey, sliding the fingers on the row of books in the shelf, reading the titles as he goes. One can find a lot about a person by the books they read, and the words on the spines are proof of the man’s intelligence.
“Please.” The word leaves Aldebaran lips with effort.
“Sorry?”
“Don’t hurt them.”
The man is confused for a moment, but finds the answer quick, when he follows Aldebaran eyes, staring at the door. “Oh. You’re still on that?”
Do they have any disabilities? How does it impact them on their job? (Ethan)
He does not enjoy public speech or crowds in general, so when he needs to do a speech for the company, he sends his second in command. (Unless it is actually important for the CEO to be there.)
