fic: all that we amassed sits before us (shattered into ash)
title: all that we amassed sits before us (shattered into ash)
fandom: arrow
characters: thea centric, ensemble
rating/warnings: pg I think; violence (nothing graphic), talk of sex, and a little bit of accidental dream incest (Tommy). Spoilers for S3 for sure. also, not entirely sure what this is, so warnings for that I guess.
summary: She’s marble now you see. Thea doesn’t know what she was before, just that it was easy to break and glue back together (again and again.) Plastic maybe.
a/n: for the prompt: no one ever said you have to be dead and buried to be a ghost. by kwritten who has the most ridiculously perfect prompts.
Malcom whispers in her ears as he hands her weapons and teaches her how to hold them and the right stance.
He whispers, hands her a bow and arrow, and says ‘someday you’ll be even better than the arrow.’
She smiles as he says it, as she grips the bow tightly in her hand.
--
Oliver finds her, because he always finds her.
He smiles and he says the right words, because that is what Oliver does.
He smiles and it’s not real. He says the things the person in front of him needs to hear, good or bad.
She hates him for that.
Hates herself because she has carved herself into the same marble he is made of. Because she cries when she tells her of their (his) father’s death, and she smiles when she sees him that first time, and she follows him home and she doesn’t mention anything that happened when she was gone once.
She’s marble now you see.
Thea doesn’t know what she was before, just that it was easy to break and glue back together (again and again.)
Plastic maybe.
--
She dreams at night.
Tommy’s there, his hands tangled in her hair and his lips on her.
He tastes like ashes.
“This is wrong.” She says into his mouth.
“It’s okay,” He promises, “I’m not even real.”
--
Sword clangs against sword.
Metal against metal.
And feet swept out from underneath them.
A bow in her hand and a fist of steel ready to go whenever she needs it.
Shattered pieces of glass in her hands, digging in even as she throws it.
She learns and she learns.
(The bruises and the scars are easy to hide.
She had learned how to hide her pain a long time ago and Malcolm taught her how to do it even better.)
--
She runs in to the Red Arrow or whatever they call him long before she does the Arrow.
Thea knows its Roy right away.
Not because she knows him so well, or because she knows how his body moves or what his eyes look like so well. But because she’s close enough to see his face, the mask nothing but a comfort to make himself feel better.
She doesn’t think he recognizes her though, dressed in black, only her eyes visible (and when had he ever been able to read those). Thea hid who she was but felt no need to wear a mask.
A mask was nothing but another lie.
Thea doesn’t believe in lies. She never has.
She’s halfway across the rooftop, smiling, as he stands up.
The dagger hits him right in the leg, right where the arrow hit him the year before.
She smiles. (He screams.)
And she jumps off the building, black fabric flowing after her, and it almost feels like falling into oblivion.
--
She dreams and her mother is there with her.
Her new daddy on one shoulder, a sword in his hand, and her mother on her other, a sword through her body.
“This isn’t what I wanted for you.” She says, as Thea dodges another attack from Malcolm.
She tumbles to the left, coming up with her sword, clanging against his.
“This isn’t who we wanted you to be.” Her mother says, “This isn’t who you were supposed to become.”
“Well then maybe you shouldn’t have all died.” Thea says and she’s distracted just long enough for Malcom’s sword to go right through.
She laughs as the blood bubbles and looks at him.
“Like brother like sister.” She says before she jerks awake.
--
Alcohol, pills, all those things she used to fall back on aren’t allowed anymore.
They “dull your senses” and “leave you unprepared”.
So she takes what only vice she has left.
She leads boy after boy out of her night club and into the alley and they smile as she leads the way, like their special or something for gaining Thea Queen’s attention.
It makes her want to laugh as they gasp into her mouth.
--
The gun is easy.
She pulls the trigger again and again.
Pulls it until the bullets are all gone and the shell casings litter the floor.
She is made of iron, you see.
She has conviction.
Thea is made of iron and marble and concrete because she knows how this story ends.
(Concrete is hard, but it will crumble with just the right strike, with the right weapon.)
--
Oliver reappears in their lives and he’s different. Everything’s different.
The Arrow is back too and her mind is doing calculations but she always shuts them down before too long.
It leaves an ache in her chest if she doesn’t.
And her heart has too many holes in it already. From the places where people used to belong.
--
The Canary catches her off guard.
She appears out of nowhere and there both fighting on the same side but neither of them know who the other is.
Thea remembers hearing about the Canary from before, but it all seems so different from this person before her. The legends told.
They fight together and The Canary knocks a man out when he gets too close to Thea and in return she imbeds blades into three men running towards the blonde.
“Who are you?” She asks when the fighting is over and the bodies lie on the ground.
Thea looks at her and laughs, because that seems to be the question of the year, and when she finally gets a good look at the other woman she can see crystal clear.
“Did…Are you from the League?”
Thea just shakes her head, before running off in the other direction. Laurel doesn’t follow.
--
Malcolm chews her out for being out on the street, for fighting when she’s not “ready”, when someone could recognize her.
“No one’s recognized me so far.” She says.
He’s silent and then, “But you’ve recognized them.”
“You want to find out who’s keeping this city safe,” Thea says, “You can do it on your own.”
“Thea…”
“Come on, dad” She mocks, “I’m just using what you taught me.”
--
She dreams and the sword clanks against something hard, chips off pieces of headstones as the girl in front of her tries to crawl away.
Thea sneers down at her.
“You could always cry out for mommy or daddy for help.” She suggests, “But I don’t know how much good that will do you.”
The girl whimpers, holding her stomach, where Thea had slashed her stomach, the blood stark red, bleeding out.
“What happened to you?” She asks and she’s pitiful and sad and scared and hurt and everything Thea will ever hate about herself.
In one swift move the sword goes through the heart and the body is dead at her feet.
Her own eyes staring dead back at her.
“I lost everyone I love.” Thea says, “What’s your excuse?”
fandom: arrow
characters: thea centric, ensemble
rating/warnings: pg I think; violence (nothing graphic), talk of sex, and a little bit of accidental dream incest (Tommy). Spoilers for S3 for sure. also, not entirely sure what this is, so warnings for that I guess.
summary: She’s marble now you see. Thea doesn’t know what she was before, just that it was easy to break and glue back together (again and again.) Plastic maybe.
a/n: for the prompt: no one ever said you have to be dead and buried to be a ghost. by kwritten who has the most ridiculously perfect prompts.
Malcom whispers in her ears as he hands her weapons and teaches her how to hold them and the right stance.
He whispers, hands her a bow and arrow, and says ‘someday you’ll be even better than the arrow.’
She smiles as he says it, as she grips the bow tightly in her hand.
--
Oliver finds her, because he always finds her.
He smiles and he says the right words, because that is what Oliver does.
He smiles and it’s not real. He says the things the person in front of him needs to hear, good or bad.
She hates him for that.
Hates herself because she has carved herself into the same marble he is made of. Because she cries when she tells her of their (his) father’s death, and she smiles when she sees him that first time, and she follows him home and she doesn’t mention anything that happened when she was gone once.
She’s marble now you see.
Thea doesn’t know what she was before, just that it was easy to break and glue back together (again and again.)
Plastic maybe.
--
She dreams at night.
Tommy’s there, his hands tangled in her hair and his lips on her.
He tastes like ashes.
“This is wrong.” She says into his mouth.
“It’s okay,” He promises, “I’m not even real.”
--
Sword clangs against sword.
Metal against metal.
And feet swept out from underneath them.
A bow in her hand and a fist of steel ready to go whenever she needs it.
Shattered pieces of glass in her hands, digging in even as she throws it.
She learns and she learns.
(The bruises and the scars are easy to hide.
She had learned how to hide her pain a long time ago and Malcolm taught her how to do it even better.)
--
She runs in to the Red Arrow or whatever they call him long before she does the Arrow.
Thea knows its Roy right away.
Not because she knows him so well, or because she knows how his body moves or what his eyes look like so well. But because she’s close enough to see his face, the mask nothing but a comfort to make himself feel better.
She doesn’t think he recognizes her though, dressed in black, only her eyes visible (and when had he ever been able to read those). Thea hid who she was but felt no need to wear a mask.
A mask was nothing but another lie.
Thea doesn’t believe in lies. She never has.
She’s halfway across the rooftop, smiling, as he stands up.
The dagger hits him right in the leg, right where the arrow hit him the year before.
She smiles. (He screams.)
And she jumps off the building, black fabric flowing after her, and it almost feels like falling into oblivion.
--
She dreams and her mother is there with her.
Her new daddy on one shoulder, a sword in his hand, and her mother on her other, a sword through her body.
“This isn’t what I wanted for you.” She says, as Thea dodges another attack from Malcolm.
She tumbles to the left, coming up with her sword, clanging against his.
“This isn’t who we wanted you to be.” Her mother says, “This isn’t who you were supposed to become.”
“Well then maybe you shouldn’t have all died.” Thea says and she’s distracted just long enough for Malcom’s sword to go right through.
She laughs as the blood bubbles and looks at him.
“Like brother like sister.” She says before she jerks awake.
--
Alcohol, pills, all those things she used to fall back on aren’t allowed anymore.
They “dull your senses” and “leave you unprepared”.
So she takes what only vice she has left.
She leads boy after boy out of her night club and into the alley and they smile as she leads the way, like their special or something for gaining Thea Queen’s attention.
It makes her want to laugh as they gasp into her mouth.
--
The gun is easy.
She pulls the trigger again and again.
Pulls it until the bullets are all gone and the shell casings litter the floor.
She is made of iron, you see.
She has conviction.
Thea is made of iron and marble and concrete because she knows how this story ends.
(Concrete is hard, but it will crumble with just the right strike, with the right weapon.)
--
Oliver reappears in their lives and he’s different. Everything’s different.
The Arrow is back too and her mind is doing calculations but she always shuts them down before too long.
It leaves an ache in her chest if she doesn’t.
And her heart has too many holes in it already. From the places where people used to belong.
--
The Canary catches her off guard.
She appears out of nowhere and there both fighting on the same side but neither of them know who the other is.
Thea remembers hearing about the Canary from before, but it all seems so different from this person before her. The legends told.
They fight together and The Canary knocks a man out when he gets too close to Thea and in return she imbeds blades into three men running towards the blonde.
“Who are you?” She asks when the fighting is over and the bodies lie on the ground.
Thea looks at her and laughs, because that seems to be the question of the year, and when she finally gets a good look at the other woman she can see crystal clear.
“Did…Are you from the League?”
Thea just shakes her head, before running off in the other direction. Laurel doesn’t follow.
--
Malcolm chews her out for being out on the street, for fighting when she’s not “ready”, when someone could recognize her.
“No one’s recognized me so far.” She says.
He’s silent and then, “But you’ve recognized them.”
“You want to find out who’s keeping this city safe,” Thea says, “You can do it on your own.”
“Thea…”
“Come on, dad” She mocks, “I’m just using what you taught me.”
--
She dreams and the sword clanks against something hard, chips off pieces of headstones as the girl in front of her tries to crawl away.
Thea sneers down at her.
“You could always cry out for mommy or daddy for help.” She suggests, “But I don’t know how much good that will do you.”
The girl whimpers, holding her stomach, where Thea had slashed her stomach, the blood stark red, bleeding out.
“What happened to you?” She asks and she’s pitiful and sad and scared and hurt and everything Thea will ever hate about herself.
In one swift move the sword goes through the heart and the body is dead at her feet.
Her own eyes staring dead back at her.
“I lost everyone I love.” Thea says, “What’s your excuse?”