Amihan (ə-'mi-hən) (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
camalyng) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
greenstickered2012-07-06 12:20 pm
camalyng) wrote in greenstickered2012-07-06 12:20 pm
Entry tags:
Uncharted: Countdown
Title: Countdown
What: Uncharted fanfiction - drabble
Rating: PG (violence)
Words: 215
Summary: Elena remembers almost being blown up at the least opportune moments.
Alternate links: Archive of Our Own; Tumblr (with the fanart that inspired it)
Notes: Inspired by![[deviantart.com profile]](https://i.deviantart.net/icons/favicon.png)
gus2427's fanart.
Sample: Is he crazy, that's a live grenade in his hand barely a foot from your knee--
A ticking grenade lands at your feet, and for a second all you can remember is Flynn--
Nate picks it up.
"Nate," you warn him, because is he crazy, that's a live grenade in his hand barely a foot from your knee--
"I've got this," he calls back, almost gleeful, peering over the top of the wall you're both hiding behind, and then he throws it back with a cry of, "Eat this!"
The sound of the explosion, even far away, brings back the blast, the pain, the ringing in your ears. Once it clears, and you can recognize that that's sand underneath you, not stone, and that blue nearby is a door, not the Cintamani Stone, no one's shooting any more, you're sitting on the ground (you don't remember sitting) with your gun beside you (you don't remember dropping it), and Nate's sitting in front of you with a worried expression.
"Elena?" he asks. "Are you--?"
You shake your head to try and clear it. When this is all over, you're going to need to call that counselor work recommends for trauma, because that was two years ago and it's still affecting you.
"It's fine," you lie.
"I'm sorry," he says helplessly; you're pretty sure he doesn't know what he's apologizing for.
"I know."
What: Uncharted fanfiction - drabble
Rating: PG (violence)
Words: 215
Summary: Elena remembers almost being blown up at the least opportune moments.
Alternate links: Archive of Our Own; Tumblr (with the fanart that inspired it)
Notes: Inspired by
gus2427's fanart.Sample: Is he crazy, that's a live grenade in his hand barely a foot from your knee--
A ticking grenade lands at your feet, and for a second all you can remember is Flynn--
Nate picks it up.
"Nate," you warn him, because is he crazy, that's a live grenade in his hand barely a foot from your knee--
"I've got this," he calls back, almost gleeful, peering over the top of the wall you're both hiding behind, and then he throws it back with a cry of, "Eat this!"
The sound of the explosion, even far away, brings back the blast, the pain, the ringing in your ears. Once it clears, and you can recognize that that's sand underneath you, not stone, and that blue nearby is a door, not the Cintamani Stone, no one's shooting any more, you're sitting on the ground (you don't remember sitting) with your gun beside you (you don't remember dropping it), and Nate's sitting in front of you with a worried expression.
"Elena?" he asks. "Are you--?"
You shake your head to try and clear it. When this is all over, you're going to need to call that counselor work recommends for trauma, because that was two years ago and it's still affecting you.
"It's fine," you lie.
"I'm sorry," he says helplessly; you're pretty sure he doesn't know what he's apologizing for.
"I know."