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badwolf-winchester · 3 years

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Ancient Bloodlines

Pairing: Loki x Emy Nightstar (OC)

OC Summary: Emy is the newest Avenger. She specializes in Magic and close range attacks/ weapons. Her heritage is unknown to her as she was left at an orphanage door step when she was a young girl with only the memory of her name. She goes by her nickname Emy but has never told anyone her full name as its a reminder of her being abandoned. Emy can see through any illusion and Magic no matter how powerful they are or how strong the magic is and is unaware of this. Her powers include Telekinesis, Elemental Control, True Sight (as stated above) Enhanced healing and Shifting (she wont discover this till much later in the story). She loves to read, listen to music, play violin, sing, and draw.

Story Info: Takes place after infinity wars. Tony and Natasha are alive Steven comes back from the future after giving back the infinity stones. Vision is alive and living with Wanda in the tower. Thor and Loki live in the tower with the rest of the Avengers and for the sake of the story Himedall is alive and living with the rest of the Asgardians on earth in New Asgard (you will find out why later)

One last thing: Please do not repost my work on any other site or social media, however reblogging on here is fine. I work hard on all of my fanfics and it’s disappointing when people take my work as their own. I am the creater of all my OCs such as Sora Nightstar, Emy Nightstar, and Lithium Nightstar. My inbox is open for any and all requests as i am a multi fandom writer. Let me know how you like the story and i will do my best to answer any and all questions. As always i encourage any and all feedback as it helps with my writing. I hope you all like it!

The Beginning

They say that your parents are there to teach you the rules of the world, but what happens when you have no parents? Who will teach you then? The world is cruel but people are crueler. Ive learned this first hand when the person i trusted most in this world left me on the door step of the St. Trinity’s Orphanage. I was 9 when my mother told me she didn’t want me anymore and i guess I couldn’t really blame her. I mean who could love someone who couldn’t control the powers that grew with each passing year. Someone who started fires out of thin air when they had nightmares, conjured whirlwinds when startled, unfurled earthquakes when angered, spring forth rain showers when sad, and levitate objects when riddled with anxiety. I will never forget that day for its seared into my mind like its own person brand echoing with every beat of my heart. A monster thats what she called me, her own flesh and blood was a monster in her eyes, and i could see the relief when she ran from the solid oak door finally rid of the burden she had to put up with throughout the years. An abomination she cried as she reached the cobblestone sidewalk eager to be rid of me and by the pace she was going at i could tell she had more spring in her step than on the walk over from the bus we exited from. Unnatural she bellowed as she disappeared around the corner a ghost of a smile springing from her lips as she disappeared. These where the last words i would ever hear from my mother, if thats what you would call her.

Emy’s POV

Tonight was just like any other. Crisp cold air submerged the city in a blanket of dark and silence while it settled into your bones. I never minded the cold in fact I welcomed it, it reminded me of the cabin i found one year after running away from one of the many abusive foster homes i was forced to stay with. I’ll admit it was one of the times I was able to avoid the social workers for longer than a week and the happiest I had ever been in my life up until i was captured by Hydra. When I had a flair up with my powers, which usually ended up being fire, i would immediately get sent back to St. Trinity’s but this time i ran before they had the chance to toss me aside. The staff there used to place bets on how long i would stay with a family, they would joke saying i was cursed or jinxed but i knew the truth, no one wanted me. Once the parents found out about my abilities I was sent packing. I was labeled as a flight risk and a danger to others which only deepened my anti socialism.

Walking through the streets of New York i pull my dark purple jacket on and my dark brown hair in a pony tail as I get closer to my destination. Because i don’t feel the effects of the cold weather Tony, being such the dad figure he is, has made it his priority to make sure i still wear one just incase so here i was walking home in black ripped up jeans, a black v neck T-shirt, black and purple checkered vans and a light weight dark purple jacket. With my headphones in my ears and “I like it heavy” by Halestorm blasting I make my way to the place i call home, Stark Tower. Walking through the front doors i make my way past the receptionist who always greets me with a bright smile. As I walk towards the elevator I give her a small smile back and a head nod. After entering the elevator and pressing the button for the penthouse I start to reflect on how i got here.

By the time i was 15 Hydra found me in that cabin and took me away. I went from hopping from family to family to being used as a science experiment, constantly being poked and prodded just so they could get a reaction out of me. As a child my powers where very unstable mostly flaring up with my emotions, its no wonder that Hydra caught wind of me its not like i was hiding it very well or more so that i couldn’t hide it. They tried to wipe my memory to gain control of me “a blank slate” is what they wanted, but for some reason, they failed as I wasn’t susceptible to their conditioning methods no matter how much time i spent in the chair. However, I could tell they were scared of me I could see it in their eyes. This didn’t last long though as they used what they called their perfect weapon code name Winter Soldier to beat me into submission. After that first meeting that left me with a broken arm and a fractured ankle i started to obey, since then Ive met the Soldier a couple of times but if he remembers me he dosent let on and I dont blame him, he has been in that chair so many times Im genuinely surprised he can even remember how to walk. He is stronger than the others as most of the other test subjects had turned to vegetables after the 4th mind wipe, he was on his 10th the last time i saw him with Hydra.

Another test was done on me and this one was different. They used a teseract? If thats what they called it I can’t be sure nor did I care all I could feel was pain like as if someone injected lava in my veins. After they injected me I started screaming after a while I couldn’t even hear myself anymore, my throat was so sore and horse from the constant roar of my agony I just wanted it to end. How long was I out for? Seconds? Minutes? Hours? Days? Years? They didn’t keep clocks there or at least not in the dungeon like cell they had me in. When the fire faded i was left with this numbness and after further tests I realized that I was immune to fire. I can literally stick my hand in fire and i will be left untouched and unscorched. They did the same test with freezing temperatures to see if they could subdue me at least in some way. I must have been out longer than just a couple of days as during the tests i didn’t recognize any of the Doctors. In that moment I realized something, if they were trying to contain me then something must have happened to the soldier. It was time to plan my escape.

Back in my cell i could hear footsteps approaching me and then stop short. One of the scientists frantically trying to talk some sense into someone just out of my line of sight. “She is immune to anything we throw at her sir. We have done every test we could there is nothing left for us to do.” One of the goons in a lab coat stated to what i assumed is a higher up. “Bolden If her powers keep growing at the rate they are it could be days in which she will be unstoppable and with the soldier gone we dont have anything that can keep her in line. She broke Mandy and Rays arms the last time we tested her. She is getting too strong.” Brining a hand up to his chin the higher up Bolden stepped out of the shadows and looked at me with deep interest before he turned to looked at the man and scoffed. As he walked away i felt a cold chill ran down my back as I anticipated what was to become of me; I knew it was nothing good i had already broken their rules. His next words only confirmed what I feared. “ Its simple. Break her spirit or kill her Doctor. And when i say break her i mean in anyway means necessary.” His sadistic laugh is the last thing i remember before everything went black.

Its been 2 years since i have escaped and now I’m living in the avengers tower. I don’t remember what happened after that night in my cell its all a blur of red, screams, and gunshots. When i woke up next i was in a 6ft crater where I was being held captive without a scratch on me. Trees were uprooted and fallen over as if a bomb went off. Luckily the Avengers showed up not long after me waking up and took me to their base where i met Directer Fury. With his permission and 24/7 surveillance provided by Tony Stark via FRIDAY and training sessions to get my powers under control i was allowed to join the Avengers and fight for good. Little did i know that by agreeing to this I would end up in the path of a certain God or Gods who were also taking residence at the tower.

With the sound of a *ding* the elevator shook me out of my mind and back to the present. As i exited the elevator I pulled my head phones out of my ears and was instantly met with the sound of Tony losing his mind. “Where did she go? She knows she can’t be out this late. She could be taken again! Its 5 minutes past her curfew!” Rolling my eyes I roll my headphones up and shove them in my pocket and round the corner. “Tony it takes 5 minutes to get from the lobby to the penthouse calm down. I bet she will walk through that door anytime now.” Came the sweet voice of reason of none other than Pepper Potts. “I’m Home.” I said in a deadpan voice as i walked by the couple only for Tony to stand up and intercept me by placing a hand on my upper arm. “Where did you go and why didn’t you tell me you were leaving?” I looked at him and raised an eyebrow pushing his hand off me. “Tony its Wednesday. I have training with Strange on Wednesdays and I had Friday alert you as I was leaving but you were in the lab with Bruce.” Not sure what to say next Tony mumbled a small apology. “Sorry I was just worried about you. I know you are grown enough to make your own choices as you are 25 but I just want to make sure you are safe. How was the training with The Wizard?” Sighing and shaking my head just wanting to go the library and read I decided to just let it go. “Strange is a hard ass that much you already know. It wasnt bad actually I think I’m warming up to him. I didn’t spontaneously throw him to the wall when he snuck up behind me as i was going over the ancient texts so i call that improvement.” I said sheepishly while side stepping around him. “I’m gonna go to the library now and grab some light reading before bed you guys have a good night.” With out waiting for a response I quickly made my way towards my new destination only to have Tony saying something about guests in the house but I ignored him.

Pushing open the library door I make my way to the poetry section to grab my usual copy of Edgar Allen Poe that I read before bed. As my had reached for the spot i knew i put the book in i find that its not there. “Wait what? Where is my book? I know I put it back here before I left for training so where did it go?” Frustrated I stomp back over to the entrance and rip open the door ready to go on a murder spree while shouting down the hallway. “CLINT! You better give me back my night time book or I’m breaking all your arrows again! No one reads in this tower but me! How stupid do you think I am!?” Straining my ears I listen for any type of movement but was met with dead silence. After a minute I finally hear movement through the vents coming from the west part of the tower and I take off sprinting. Sliding around a corner I barely miss colliding with Steve and Bucky who look like they were on their way back from a mission. Offering a quick apology before I continue my pursuit I hear Steve yell “Hey! No running in the tower!” Not faltering in my hot pursuit of the Hawk thief I continue to zip through the tower ignoring the Captains words until i was almost to the vent that lead to the 2 level family room. Using the railing for the steps leading down to the family area to give me more height i jumped as close to the vent as possible and conjured my signature Scythe to slice through it while twisting in the air kicking the vent free and off its track. A shocked and terrified scream resonates from the vent as the culprit falls to the ground with a thud and a grunt. I landed in a crouched position and slowly straightened to my full hight. “What the hell Emy?! When did you learn to do that?!” Clint yells as he sits up rubbing his left shoulder that he landed on. I started stalking towards him with the blade of my scythe scrapping across the ground as i went while giving him a death glare. “Give me back my book Barton.” At the mention of his last name his head snapped up to me fear replacing the pain from his fall. “Oh shit last name not good.” Scrambling up on his feet he turns and runs towards the common room that connects to the elevator with me hot on his tail and my scythe trailing behind me in my right hand.

“Shit shit shit shit shit shit SHIT!!” He yells as he makes it fully to the room only to fling forward as i jump and kick his back tired of all the running. Twirling my weapon around I place it at his neck sneering at him. “I will not ask you again.” I said placing pressure on his neck with my blade. Sensing a fast moving object coming from my left from the kitchen I move my head back 3 inches as what looked like a hammer flew by me embedding itself in the wall. Turning my head slowly in the direction of the flying object, I confirmed it was indeed a hammer that was thrown at me. Irritation flared through me as i released Clint from the end of my scythe and turned fully to the kitchen to face my attacker. There stood 2 men that i did not recognize, one tall oak of a man with blond short hair, blue eyes and tan skin in blue jeans, a red T-shirt ,and grey jacket. the other shorter man made me stare at him and faultier for a second as he was so different from anyone i have ever seen, dark blue skin covered his entire body with darker almost black symbols and piercing red eyes, long black hair with black jeans, a green dress shirt and black jacket. Tearing my gaze away from his own curious one i looked between both men before i clenched my jaw letting my irritation settle back in. “Which one of you threw that hammer.” I said venom dripping with every word. “Whoa its ok Emy thats just Thor and Loki they are the asgardian Gods that live here in the tower part time when they are not in Norway.” Clint said standing up quickly. Not moving from my position i narrowed my eyes and flicked them over in Clint’s direction. The ground started to shake as my irritation and annoyance grew to anger remembering what i was doing before being interrupted by the Gods. Throwing his hands up in surrender he then quickly reached into his back pocket and retrieved my book. “Ok ok dont blow a fuse Em.” He said while tossing me my possession stopping me from causing an earthquake. Catching it in the air with my left had I inspected the book to make sure it wasn’t damaged before I let go of my scythe, with a wave of my hand it disappeared back to the pocket dimension I keep it in then looked back at Clint as the tremors stopped. “Touch my things again and i will be wearing your guts like my mom’s pashmina.” I said to the thief before walking out of the room and disappeared down the hallway not giving the Gods a second glance. As I entered my room i could hear a silky voice ring out from the kitchen. “Well isnt she interesting.”

Part 2 coming soon

@nickkie1129

#loki x y/n #loki odinson #loki series #loki #loki x reader #loki x you #loki (marvel)#loki laufeyson #marvel #avengers x reader #the avengers #clint barton #tony stark #doctor strange #thor odinson #steve rogers #bucky barns #pepper potts

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boogiewrites · 4 years

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No. 9:”The Body.”

Chapter Four

Characters: Diego Hargreeves & OFC Eve Corpuz

Summary: Eve feels the pressure of learning about her powers and takes steps to do that when Diego takes too long to respond. She ends up meeting him again, by chance or fate, and they begin to realize that they have more in common than they thought.

Warnings/Tags: Light descriptions of fighting. Flirting. Bonding.Little bit of Luther.

Click on my icon then go to my Mobile Masterlist in my bio for my other works and chapters. Please like, comment and reblog if you enjoyed it! It helps out us writers A LOT! If you’d like added to the tags, just let me know. This is a multi-chapter fic.

Eve sits in the on-call suite with an ice pack on the back on her neck. She’d begun seeing how her power worked while she was at her job. She found it harder, the more she practiced the more drained she became. Being the overachiever she was, she’d passed out cold and gave everyone a good scare. She knew the cause but she couldn’t really say that so she’d had every remedy thrown at her and told to rest. So here she was with an energy drink in one hand and her phone in the other. She just had a few hours, she could make it. But she knew there would be more days like this if she didn’t take some time to figure things out.

As on-brand as ever, Diego had not texted her since the initial number text. She sighed and begrudgingly sent him a message first.

“I’m going to see if I can get my hours lowered. Whenever you can, we need to figure something out. I need to learn how to deal with this before I hurt myself.”

Her impatience for a response led her to take plans into her own hands. She made a few stops before she went home, to her community center to see where her defense instructor suggested she could go for some more intense training.

She settled in for the evening, making it easy on herself. She could probably get some decent info from a good google search on the Hargreeves. What? She was by nature a researcher and this was as close to a book on powers she was going to get. She had a personal training appointment with a new gym on the calendar for her next free day. With a plan in place, she felt better. For now anyway.

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The response of “alright let me know.” Seemed underwhelming but at least it wasn’t only one letter. He’d sent it at 2:37 AM. What kind of sleep schedule was this guy on?

She’d been approved for fewer hours, not by much. But when you throw out the words ’work-related mental episode’ they tend to listen. She'd taken the first few checks she’d received and as she had never done before, she treated herself to new workout gear.

She figured she needed to learn to fight. If Diego, well, the whole family, did it and she was one of them... it made sense. If the wrong person found out about her, she could potentially be in danger, and she was not one that liked to be ill-prepared. Since she didn’t think he was moving fast enough with suggestions for what to do now, she’d found a quaint old gym upon the suggestion of her self defense teacher.

“They’re very good at what they do but they’re a little rough around the edges. Ask for the big guy, he’s the nicest, the other brother is a dick.”

She was always down to support family-owned small businesses and if they were good then what is some poor bedside manner when she dealt with people spitting on her for saving their life. This is should be nothing.

Good thing she had such an attitude because she’d far overestimated how good of shape she was it when she got winded from the warm-up. She was certainly getting her money’s worth. Extra fees to be seen at a late hour due to her weird work hours, but once she said she was a doctor the polite man on the other end of the line was very accommodating. That polite man turned out to be one of the biggest men she had ever seen. She thought it curious but didn’t want to be rude and assume he was the Luther she suspected he was. Luther sounded like a name any big guy could be called. This guy could just be super jacked on steroids and injectibles. As long as he was a good trainer she didn’t care. And so far he was giving her the most polite ass-kicking she’d ever received.

This night was an introduction to the gym, consultation, and free training session. She was sweating and focused as Luther went over the importance of safety in form.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed but I am a little bigger than you.” He laughs and she can see it’s a joke he’s used many times before. “Usually my brother helps in this part, he’s… a lot smaller than me. Not a lot he’s not tiny or something he’s… people-sized he’s normal...human man height. So learning with someone closer to your size is better than-“

“I think she gets it, big guy.” She hears a familiar voice coming down the stairs from the offices and apartment.

“Oh! I didn’t know you’d be in tonight.” Luther says with relief.

“Yeah, plans didn’t play out.” As oddly enough, his plans stood right in his gym.

“Eve here is getting her first session in late, she’s a doctor so… weird hours.” As soon as she saw Diego she knew he was the dick brother she'd been warned about. Checked out.

“Who’s stalking who now Doc?” He asks with a smile and a cocky suaveness he carried himself with.

“I didn’t know this was your gym.” She says a roll of her eyes.

“Oh you... know each other?”

“Yeah,” Diego asks without looking to Luther. “We at my part yet?” He asks with a raise of his brow.

“Yeah left it for last.”

“I got her from here.” He says giving him a casual hand of dismissal.

“Oh, you sure? I’ve got her forms filled out-“

“Yeah, I’m sure. Don’t worry about em. Head on out, I’ll close up.”

“You sure?”

“If you ask me that one more time I’m going to demonstrate on this dummy,” he pokes his chest, “instead of these other ones.” He knocks his head to the side of the room where the standing targets were lined up.

“Yep.” A gives a close-lipped smile and a nod. “Nice meeting you Eve, he’ll schedule you for the next one, kay?”

“No problem.” She gives him a warm smile and a nod in return to answer any doubts he might have about leaving her with him.

So Diego kicked off his boots as Luther wobbled around to lock the doors and turn off the lights. With half the room lit now, they stood face to face and sized each other up a moment. “You really didn’t know?” He asks after he hears the click of Luther being out of earshot.

“I swear. I asked my self-defense teacher and they recommended this place. Said you were good at training people to fight so…” she shrugs and offers her hands up.

“We are. I am.” He smiles proudly. “Why are you wanting to fight?” He asked with squinted eyes. She could tell he hadn't expected it.

“Well.. you do. I mean all…the people with powers do. I thought it’d be smart if I could really defend myself if I needed to. In case something goes wrong and... like... I get found and people wanna kill me.” she gives a weak shrug of explanation

He considers it a second. “Yeah, you just didn’t strike me as the type.”

“Why? You knew I took classes you stalker.” she taunts him.

“Well I had to know if you were legit before I came at you didn’t I?”

“And I you.” she quickly quips back.

“See. We have an understanding.” He passes his hand back and forth. “So… fighting huh? What you into? Judo? Jujitsu? Some boxing?”

“Everything.” She says with a self-assured nod and he lets out a dry laugh.

“Everything?” a cocky laugh that came from decades of experience busted out and stayed on his face in the form of a grin for awhile after.

“I wanna be good. I wanna be strong. I wanna win. Or not die and be maimed at least…. So whatever that takes is what I want to do.”

He could see a conviction in her eyes, she meant it. He was inspired for a moment by the rawness she gave so openly. The honesty was refreshing. “Then let’s do some conditioning. Start there and we’ll start discussing styles. Sound good?”

“Yeah.” She offers a supportive nod.

“Then drop and give me 50.” He grins.

She’d never sweat so much in her life. He put on music and had her do every cardio move she could have ever imagined. She left the desire to stay looking nice long ago once the hair started to stick to her forehead. She took everything he gave, and he was once again impressed. She’d yell out when she was trying to push herself and he'd clap and yell right back. She’d crack a smile when he told her to let it out and scream at him. So she did and she collapsed with her last burpee onto the mat. He pulls her up and gives her cheek a good supportive smack as she glares at him playfully.

“Ya did good, kid.” He pats her arm supportively. “Next time we’ll work on some moves too.”

“Good because I really want to hit you after that.”

------------------------------------------

“You’ve not been out for weeks, what’s been your deal?” One of Eve's friends she worked with, Molly asked. Her face always had a glint of sarcasm in her eye and a brow that never twitched. “I’ve had to work with Sean so much it’s been a pain in the ass.”

“Yeah, sorry about that. I’ve just been… busy… going through some weird stuff right now and needed more time for myself. I’ve considered a career change anyway.”

“You what? You aren’t leaving me you bitch.” She says playfully but she means it. “Don’t leave me with those doctor dicks.”

“I’m one of those doctor dicks y’know.” She laughs.

“Nah you’re just a dick.” She grins and taps her glass to her friends. “I’m never very good at being sugar-coated but I'm here if you need to talk about it.”

“Uh...not yet. I’m okay, not sick or anything. Just had some stuff from my past kinda...come up.”

“Ah. The middle of fucking nowhere coming back to haunt you?”

“Yeah, I guess. Some big feelings and stuff came up with...in therapy.” She tries to cover and explain.

“Ah. I get it. It’s dirty work.” She gives a supportive nod. “But for real if you’re leaving let me know where so I can transfer too.” She smiles and knocks the bar to order another round of drinks.

“I need to get out though, just of the hospital and my apartment...so thanks for still asking.”

“No one else we work with is any fun. They don’t wanna go to loud shows they wanna go try out some overpriced bullshit Gastro-pub- whatever the fuck that is- and I’m just...it’s not me.”

“So I’m your only single friend in other words?” She chuckles.

“Nah I actually like having you around, don’t tell anyone that though.” She knocks her arm.

“What about people outside of work?”

“Eh. We have such fucked hours it’s hard to keep in touch.”

“Yeah.” Eve murmurs. “Making friends when you’re old is hard.”

“We sound like two old married birds bitching to each other.” She slides the new drinks their way.

“Here's to acting like we’re much younger women.” They clink glasses.

“Were you much of a slut when you were younger?” Molly asks after looking over the crowded basement of the bar. A small stage shoved in the back corner and the small doorways connecting the string along rooms made the space feel even smaller than it was.

The sudden question makes Eve laugh and almost choke on her drink. “I’ve had my moments.” She shrugs.

“Because there’s this fella that’s been looking at us for a while now and -don’t fucking turn-Christ-“ she laughs and smacks Eve’s knee. “No wonder you're single.” She rolls her eyes. “And if you happened to have been a slut, and in the spirit of our toast wanted to act like your younger self I think you might have a chance tonight.”

“Someones? Looking at me? Are you sure they just don’t want to kill me?”

“Nah, he’s been playing it cool.” She narrows her eyes in the way of the guy. “Here’s what we're gonna do. I’m gonna go to the bathroom, maybe take my own little stroll around this place and see what I’ve got options wise. And we’ll give this handsome stranger a window to come talk to you. I’ll be checking my phone if you need saving.”

“You don’t have to-“

“Hush. When’s the last time you got some?”

Eve opens her mouth then shuts it, defeated with the answer.

“That’s what I thought.” Molly teases. “So tits up and hopefully we won’t see each other until work Hmm?” She pats Eve's shoulder and quickly blends into the crowd of moving bodies.

She began scanning the room. She didn’t have to wait long to find out. She saw him smoothly moving through the crowd, in all black, and not a harness or knife in sight. The moves she’d seen at training with him were reflected in the way he moved, a bit like he was stalking but he hadn’t met her eyes again yet.

He was hurriedly doing a habitual perimeter scan as he moved across the room towards her.

She sat smugly, letting him come to her, feeling as if she finally had the upper hand. They meet eyes and an almost shy but endearing smile was matched and shared between them.

“Who’s stalking who now?” She says as he gets within earshot. “Just so you know it’s always been you stalking me.”

He gives her an easy smile and slides onto the stool next to her. “I knew you’d say that.” He shakes his head. “But I’m actually not here for you tonight.”

“I suppose it was a bit pompous of me to assume.”

“Not with how weird our lives are.” He shares the casual and almost comfortable air between them now.

The training had led to the banishment of that awkward physical barrier between them rather quickly. There wasn’t as much room for chit chat at training so the actual sharing of oneself, something neither were particularly skilled at, was still trying to break through that awkward stage. Luckily they were both practiced in faking it until you made it.

“How do I know you aren’t following me?” He teases

“How would I know where you’d be? I’m not the super boy detective here.”

“Funny” he answers flatly with a raised brow before waving to order a drink. “Then why are you here?”

“My friend wanted me to go out. I had been so preoccupied with… well… y’know all this going on now that I’d been neglecting what little social life I had. So I was due for a night to just see a show and chill but...you had to show up.” She jabs back with a warm smile.

“Lucky for you I’m not here for work.” He says almost proudly as if he were proving something to her. “I have a friend in the band and wanted to have a “chill night” too. But here you are.”

“Can’t get away from me.” She beams cheekily.

“You want another drink?” He offers with a nod towards her empty glass where the ice was starting to clink as she involuntarily moved it while she spoke.

“Oh. Guess I finished it.” She laughs at herself, a short sigh before rubbing a hand through her hair. “Yeah. Why not. Fuck it.”

“What’d you have? Virgin Shirley temple?”

“Oh, he’s got jokes.” She rolls her eyes. “Give me a… Horsefeather.”

The bartender grins. “Alright, Dorothy.” Before slipping away.

“What the hell is a Horsefeather?”

“The drink of my people.” She says as if he should know.

“Are you like a...native American or something?” He asks earnestly.

She laughs and pats his arm. “Be thankful you’ve got your looks hun.” He gives a smile before looking down and trying to figure if he wants to react to the insult or the praise. “No. It’s a Kansas thing.”

“You’re from Kansas?”

She nods and hands the empty glass off to a rapidly clearing and clearly overworked girl behind the bar. “Yeah. Basically.”

“You don’t look like you’re from Kansas.” he narrows his eyes.

“What is that supposed to mean?” She doesn’t feel any hostility from him, as she’d learned he often spoke without thinking.

“You’re not...y’know...White. Wait. Are you?”

She lets out a louder laugh and he enjoys the sound of it. “Honestly Diego, I don’t know. No one ever told me. I don’t think Corpuz sounds white but what do I know?”

“You kinda look Asian.” He muses out loud.

“Stop before you get racist bro.” She warns playfully with a pointed finger. “And what? Asians can’t be from Kansas?”

He pauses and considers it. “You right.” He answers quietly with darting eyes that showed him piecing his newly formed opinion together.

She sees the lull in the conversation coming as he gets distracted. His round dark eyes were still blinking in thought under straight brows that were furrowed in the middle, currently concentrated. The beginnings of a beard, a heavy five o clock shadow covered the lower parts of his face but his lips that she regrettably had noticed were full and soft weren’t hidden from its length yet. A rub of his chin and a scratch through his almost fluffy short hair distracted her as his long and lean hands fidgeted with themselves. She was used to seeing his hair damp and flopped over his forehead from training. Tonight it was dry and styled up, same for his choice of clothes. Just long enough to cover his scalp but not long enough yet to look messy. He was always in black, which she respected as a fashion choice. Although for New York it wasn’t very abnormal as a color of choice.

Eve quickly turns the conversation back to distract him from his self-reflection. “Did you come with anyone tonight? You give off that lone wolf vibe and I don’t think your brother is small enough to even fit through the door.”

His face transforms back to it’s easy-going politeness as it does when he’s with her. “Yeah, I’m alone. Just wanted to not be a shitty friend and try to be supportive by coming to watch them tonight.”

“That’s very nice of you.” She praises. “I was guilt-tripped too.” They both share a small laugh.

“Well, I’m glad we both got guilt-tripped then.” A warm tone she could feel more than hear as he slid her drink her way. “How’s your… y’know...stuff going?” he offers as he wasn’t entirely sure how to conduct himself outside of their usual healing or training.

“It’s…” she sighs and wrinkles her nose. “Going?” she shrugs and presses her lips. “I don’t really want to talk about it tonight if that’s alright. I came out to just be normal for a night. And get back to being… whatever tomorrow.”

He nods supportively. “You wanna go grab this booth and just... be normal? No super shit tonight?”

“I would fucking LOVE that.”

--------------

Molly, the greatest wingman, stalks the bar and circles, keeping an eye on her friend who was rustier than her when it came to picking up anyone. Besides being busy, which she most certainly was, Molly was lost as to why Eve didn’t have someone. She was attractive and smart and kind. Eve was straightforward forward and most of the time that didn’t ring well with men. Eve also got into her own head too much, preoccupied with the thought of messing up, anxious that someone would take one look at her and deem her not worthy and she’d get fired and lose everything she’d worked so hard for. Perhaps her fear of being vulnerable kept her from branching out. She had a lot going for her but didn’t really see it for herself. She’d spent so long being focused on her education and career, proving herself now against the past she had on paper that she was in fact good enough. Imposter syndrome is a real bitch. Not to mention being a woman, and a minority on top of that. Or at least she assumed she was, her mother was and none of the super-powered people knew who their father was. It was enough to be a woman in the medical world, but being one with slight monolids and an ambiguous face and skin color made it even harder. If she was professional, her face was read as cold and bitchy. A strong jawline and not super soft and feminine features made her unable to pull off the damsel in distress routine to slip under the radar unassumingly with her male colleagues. She’d had a terrible upbringing, rough and wild adolescence and now was trying to find her place in the midst of having powers and navigating adult life.

But Diego understood all that. He was the only person she’d ever met that could even possibly begin to understand what she felt. So as it does, shared trauma can create intensified bonds where other’s never existed before. So perhaps that’s why she felt so at ease as soon as she understood who, or what he was. It was almost as if a built-in trust came with his intense eyes and confident actions. Feasibly, that’s why they spent the majority of the night pressed shoulder to shoulder, shouting into each other ears from inches away in a booth, smashed together by the crowd of people around them. As the number of drinks rose, the inches between their bodies dropped.

They sat together as two ordinary people, sharing musical taste and stories of shows past. They drank and laughed and to anyone else they seemed like a cute couple on a date, sitting close with no show of awkwardness between them. After you’d had someone's head between your thighs, covered in both of your sweat and bruises from your grappling the previous day, sitting together seemed like nothing. And it also felt that way, effortless.

What surprised Eve the most about the night was how easy and fun it was. The conversation kept going despite the noise. There was even harmless flirting that she was realizing was a built-in thing with Diego. He was a professional, he was raised to be able to manipulate and know how to engage with people. But she never once felt like it was fake or forced. The crinkles in the corners of his eyes when she’d be inches from his ear and make him laugh led her to believe this was all genuine no matter how unreal the whole situation that brought them together felt.

“Thanks for getting me home,” she says with no slur but the warm buzz of alcohol being felt in her stomach and face.

“Can’t let anything happen to you now can I?”

“I”m trying to not let anything happen for myself….” her eyes go distant before fumbling with her keys. “Can we do some training that’s like… I wanna be able to hit, y’know?”

“You wanna do some boxing?”

“Yeah. I think I do.” she nods and roughly shuffles into her apartment. “I wanna hit you in the face.” she says seriously before they both snort and start laughing.

“Join the long line, honey.” he says with stretching arms. “I’ll find ya some gloves.” he nods in thought. “Tomorrow, if you’re able to anyway,” he smirks,” We’ll get started on learning what it feels like to take a hit.”

“I’m not that drunk.” she says with a wrinkled nose of playful defensiveness. “I’ll chug a pedialite and be fine.”

“Spoken like a true doctor.”

“Or a true alcoholic.”

“Too bad you can’t heal your own liver huh?” he teases.

“Maybe that’s what I'll work on next.” she says as she sighs, the tiredness setting in. “My brain training. Not the body.” she clarifies. “We’ll do punch kick beat em ups and I’ll try to heal the damage this stress is causing.”

“Punch kick beat em ups?”

“Shut up I'm drunk.” They both laugh and she reaches out to hug him. He didn’t expect it but he certainly didn’t deny it.

“Oh are you THAT drunk?” he smirks and looks down at her.

“You fuckin’ wish.” she snorts into his chest before pulling away. “We were...being like..normal for a minute. For tonight, I mean. I needed it, thanks. That was… the hug, why I hugged you... to thank you.”

“You’re starting to ramble now, go on and get in bed.” he turns her body and pushes her into the apartment. “You’re welcome. I had a good time too. It was nice to just…” he shrugs. “Not be me for a few hours.”

She nods and starts sitting her things on her counter. “I know what you mean.”

“That’s some depressing shit.” he stares at nothing in particular for a moment.

There’s a pause of reflection before they both laugh again. “At least we can bitch to each other?” she offers. “I’m glad you got stabbed Diego.” she chuckles.

“What the hell?” he laughs at her as she pats his arm.

“We wouldn’t have met otherwise ya idiot!” she shoves him back into the hallway lightly.

“Oh. I thought you were having some hella mood swings or somethin’.”

“Hella? This is New York son, not Cali.” she teases. “Get out of here before you say something else stupid and I decide I can’t be friends with you anymore.”

“That's the most solid and hurtful advice I’ve been given in a while.” he tips an invisible hat to her.

“I got plenty more!” she calls out to him as he leaves. “See you tomorrow!”

He raises a hand, a cute spin to face her, and walk backward. “Get some rest. I’m beatin’ your ass tomorrow.” he gave her a big smile that they both kept on their faces long after they were out of sight.

@s-h-e-w-r-i-t-e-s @jaegeeeeer @diegos-butt @anglovesthis

#diego hargreeves #diego hargreeves fanfic #diego hargreeves fic #david castenada #the umbrella academy #diego gargeeves x ofc #diego hargreeves fan fiction #diego hargreeves au #tua #tua fic #tua fanfic #the umbrella academy fanfic

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ladyfawkes · 4 years

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Stop Calling Him ‘Horace’! - Eugene Fitzherbert Appreciation Week | Day 7: Birth Day

Sooooo.... Basically, I planned to have this pretty little fanfic finished up for today, the final day of Eugene Appreciation Week. This fanfic is extra-special, specifically it features our Eugene at ages we’ve never seen him in canon. Allow me to sum up this “plan” of mine in one word: HAAAAA!!!! Suffice it to say that although fanfic is very old-hat to me (I’ve been writing it since 1991, fgs) the world of fic-blogging is still relatively NEW to me and several of my fics and headcanons that I’ve released the past several weeks are needing to connect and soon, otherwise the whole convoluted, many-headed Medusa won’t wind up making any sense at all. I’m not exactly certain how it’ll all come together yet but I have to say that getting to spend the past week with all of you fellow Fitzy enthusiasts on Twitter and Tumblr has been some of the BEST DAYS EVER that I’ve experienced on the internet in my entire online life!!!! (And I’ve had an internet presence since 1991!!!) You’ve injected me with serious shots of Inspiration Elixir and I’ve had soooo very many ideas pass through my mind just over the past 7 days that I can’t possibly hope to catalog all of them. I haven’t felt quite this inspired in, well, YEARS. I’ve enjoyed the heck out of sharing and exchanging headcanons, theories, ideas, essays, and even artforms. I’ve had a Tumblr account for more than ELEVEN YEARS and yet this is the first and only time I have consistently blogged and reblogged over the “heart-stopping” a time-span of 7 months **gasp** now (and counting). I’m a member of a couple dozen fandoms at least and this is the ONLY ONE that has consistently captured my interest AND managed to not scare the shit out of me so badly that I have to go and hibernate my account for the next, y’know, 3498349540 months. Until yet another worthy obsession captures my interest..... but Tangled the Series is still burning the brightest and I REALLY need it to right now, tbh. So THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU to everybody with whom I’ve interacted on this....I have health issues that cause me to transpose and forget names. But if you wish me to personally tag you, please tag THIS particular post and I shall tag you when I have actually finished this particular scene sequence featured in THIS ficlet. So now!!!!! Without further ado, I shall give you a teaser of the drabble-turned-ficlet-turned-short-story that will eventually feature the actual Birth Day of one Eugene Fitzherbert!!! Click the keep reading link below to see the remaining text. =)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Edmund knew from the beginning that Alexys did not like the name “Horace”. At the time, the king had told her that it was family tradition that the first-born son should receive a strong family name. Despite her pointed protests, he was utterly immovable on the subject.

The more Alexys’s belly grew, the more her dislike for that name swelled too. Shouldn’t she have a say in their child’s name, given that she was putting in all the work of keeping him healthy and strong, so to speak? Shouldn’t her family names count as possibilities too? Unfortunately, Edmund’s childhood largely consisted of his father and grandfather basically hazing him into believing that he had to “take command” of virtually any subject matter, in practically any situation. As a result, he thought of just about everything in militaristic terms. Over the past 4 years, Lexy had slowly and subtly molded her hot-headed young 20-something husband toward different healthier, less uptight ways of handling life and looking at various situations.

They had finally settled on a great couple synergy and got along very well -- except for the times they had an ongoing argument, that is. And this was definitely one of those times.

“I don’t understand why you won’t see reason, Edmund!”

“Because it’s more than just a name, Alexys! It’s a birthright. It connects him directly back to us and these names might very well be the most important gift we could ever give to our children!”

“You don’t think I know that?? Just as sure as I know this child is a boy, I am equally certain that he will not live a traditional royal life. And his name must reflect that!!”

Apparently, entertaining the possibility that any son of Edmund’s wouldn’t want to grow up a devoted soldier completely servile to the Moonstone wasn’t a possibility he was ready to face. Alexys watched as Edmund drew in a long breath, held it, his face turning interesting colors. Slowly his hands balled into fists and rather than saying anything, he exhaled one very pent-up breath and stomped out of the room. She had never before seen him so agitated. Although she also sensed the naming subject wasn’t at the core of his ire that day, she never brought it up again. Alexys hoped that whatever it was eating at him, Edmund would be able to solve it by the time their child came. And that would happen any day now.

Alexys wanted so much to tell Edmund about the beautiful vivid dreams she’d been having about their future child the past few nights. But he’d been increasingly preoccupied, sullen, and distant over the past month. It was most unfortunate and Alexys was as yet at a loss of how to help him. Now....while it’s true every good mother believes their child to be exceptional, Alexys knew that their son was destined to shatter tradition. For the first time in millennia, she knew without doubt that he would be the one to bring light to the Dark Kingdom.

One of her dreams began with a small boy, age 4 or 5, who had floppy brown hair and very expressive round eyes just like Edmund. In the dream, Alexys and the boy were standing on a trail near the edge of a narrow rock crevasse....a location that somehow seemed familiar to Lexy....but she couldn’t quite place it. The little boy smiled up at her cherubically and reached out a chubby little hand toward hers.

“Play?” he questioned sweetly. He was happily bouncing on his feet, very subtly heel to toe, and even when he was in one place he barely stood still.

“Yes, of course!” Alexys replied, grinning in awe at this absolutely beautiful dream-child her mind was currently conjuring. She gathered up her long skirts and petticoats in her left hand and took the little boy’s offered hand in her right. As they walked, she noticed a small mole at the base of the boy’s neck and it matched exactly the one that Edmund had, only in miniature. So her suspicions had been confirmed; this was indeed their son. They approached what Alexys recognized to be a very-scaled-down version of The Great Tree....and the crevasse was apparently a much-scaled-down version of the gorge which held the actual Great Tree. Even though it wasn’t the real Tree, it still possessed a very substantial and robust trunk. It was about 30 feet high and could easily withstand the weight of a couple dozen grown adults, if they ever had the inclination to climb this dream tree from within my own mind, Alexys thought wryly. As they reached the ground level of this miniature Great Tree, the little boy let go of her hand and latched onto the tree base itself. He turned back to her and said, “Play?” again while pointing upward. Bounce, bounce. Instantly, Lexy’s mothering instincts came out. “Uh, little one, I don’t think it’s safe to climb--” but it was clear the little boy wasn’t really listening to her. And even faster than a real toddler could climb, he scrambled up and out of her reach in a flash, giggling with childish abandon. She kept pleading with this child to stop and to come back down instead, that he might get injured, but he clearly had no intention of heeding her. Not only that, she didn’t even know his name. One thing was certain -- he definitely did not answer to ‘Horace’. Poor Alexys hoped this nightmare of a fearless toddler wasn’t an omen of things yet to come. She fleetingly considered just tearing off her petticoats and skirts to climb and then realized it wouldn’t matter anyway; she was nearly nine months pregnant and thus not climbing anything that day. “Look!” She suddenly heard the little boy’s voice again. This time, he was speaking from some 30 feet overhead through the tree boughs. Alexys moved away from the Great Tree’s base to a better vantage point further out from the trunk. Shielding her eyes from the sun, the queen looked up at the tree to see that the little boy was now pointing out toward the opposite direction of the crevasse from where they originally came. In the distance, she could see what looked to be a miniature version of the impassable mountain range between the Dark Kingdom and the Great Tree. Just beyond was Black Crystal Valley and in the center of the valley, an exact copy of The Dark Palace, only much smaller. What happened next was nothing short of absolute surreality on toast. “Look!” said the little boy’s voice again, still giggling as he climbed even higher until it looked like he was physically standing on the canopy leaves of the fake Great Tree. Lexy’s breath caught in her throat as this little boy reached up and plucked a literal piece out of the sun -- yes, he plucked a PIECE out of the actual SUN -- straight out of the actual sky. The light emanating from the Sun and the Shard he had in hand didn’t seem to be affecting the little boy the way it was affecting Alexys. She was shielding her face from its overpowering brightness when suddenly, the little boy wasn’t in the tree canopy anymore. In the blink of an eye, he was standing miraculously in front of her. Alexys blinked incredulously and tried not to yell aloud in shock due to being so startled. She failed at not yelling, but at least the little boy didn’t appear to notice. Next, this little boy held out the Sun Shard toward Lexy. He must’ve done something to help it because now she could look toward its brilliance without being blinded. “You can finally see my friend!” her boy said happily. Bounce, bounce. “We hug her!” he continued, holding the glowing object against his heart, rocking back and forth a few times. “And we kiss her,” and he gave the Shard his sweet toddler kisses. “And we be very soft,” he toddler-whispered, demonstrating deft touch through voice as well as action.“Now you!” he insisted, his pudgy hand offering the Sun Shard to her. Bouncy, bouncy, bounce. “I -- I don’t know. Won’t it burn me?” This dream had already gone so warped, she didn’t feel too weird for asking. Lexy was somewhat concerned with accepting the offerings of a toddler but he didn’t appear to be covered in slobber or any other mystery substances, thank goodness. Neither did the Shard. “Burn you?” the child echoed. He suddenly burst into giggles and said, “Silly Mama.” Lexy’s breath caught in her throat. Mama. He actually said it! How her mother’s heart fluttered. This….this interaction required something extra special. She oh-so-carefully got down on her knees (no small feat in her condition) so she could be level with her son. “Yes, your mama can be very silly sometimes,” Lexy acknowledged. Then she pointed toward the Shard in his hands and said, “Will you show me how?” Instantly, he came to her and passed the precious glowing object to Alexys. “Hold her here,” instructed her little boy, pointing toward his heart. Lexy was surprised to discover that the Shard wasn’t a shard at all -- and while it was very warm to the touch, it wasn’t burning hot. Pliable with only mild bit of give to it….rather like warmed sealing wax without the tackiness. Upon tucking the glowing object next to her bosom, Lexy looked upward at her boy and said, “and now I…” “Cradle,” followed by his rapid rocking back and forth motions. Bouncy-bounce bounce. “Of course,” smiled Alexys, who had arranged both her arms to cradle this golden drop of sunlight. “Is that what you are now? Not a Shard -- but a Drop of Sunlight?” She was now talking to this object but again didn’t feel one bit silly for doing so. It seemed….alive, somehow. Slowly, carefully, she rocked back and forth while on her knees. “Sing, mama!” prompted her little boy, who was excitedly bouncing on his toes and clapping his chubby hands. A time-honored German lullaby sprang to mind and as she sang the words, the longer she sang, something rather remarkable happened. As Alexys looked down in her arms, she could’ve sworn she saw a ghost of an image, not more than a sparkling golden shadow really, of a completely different child in her arms. Only this child was much tinier and younger than the boy. This was an infant, a baby girl, one with remarkably long flowing golden hair. She appeared to have even more hair than her toddler son. By orders of magnitude more. Disembodied babygirl giggling and babbles filled the air around them. “You see her now!!!” Her little boy was more excited than ever! He clearly knows! Lexy could hear the rhythm of his feet in front of her. Bounce-bounce-bouncy bounce-bouncy-bounce. Alexys was afraid to look away, lest the wispy golden dust in her arms blow away before she could get her fill. “Who is she?” questioned Alexys in awe. “She is our friend. She is….Sun...shine. Yes. Sunshine,” the boy confirmed, tilting his head to one side as he spoke, as if he were listening for something only he could hear. ......to be continued!!!!......

#Eugene appreciation week #Eugene Fitzherbert appreciation week #fanfiction #fic #ficlet #WIP #eugene fitzherbert #dark queen #king edmund #ladyfawkes eugene fanfiction #ladyfawkes fanfiction

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noodlecupcakeswritings · 4 years

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With A Heavy Heart - Chapter 11 (A Kylo RenxCora fic)

The long awaited sequel to A Call to the Light. Cora and Ben’s relationship is non existent after Ben murdered his father but with Cora being pregnant, Bens trying his hardest to make things work. It’s not as easy as he would have liked.

Please leave comments, kudos and reblogs if you like it. It really helps me out as a writer, lemme know if you wanna be on the taglist as well :)

Warnings: No Cora in this chapter, A shorter chapter, Medical stuff

Chapter 11

Kylo’s P.O.V

Cora still believed that she was the one who was going to kill Snoke, when it comes down to it. I’d let her believe that for now. But in the end, I would be the one to go through with it. It would be easier for me, I’d killed before. Cora on the other hand was still innocent in that regard and I wanted it to stay that way. If she took his life, she’d eventually have it eat away at her. She was already straying down a dark path; I wouldn’t let her take it any further. But I needed help with that. She was doing as I asked for now, but I knew eventually she would try and push the boundary again. Now her stitches had fully healed I’d had no choice but to allow her to train and work out again. I couldn’t keep her locked up in our bedroom, but I had made sure Chaise was checking up on her regularly when I wasn’t able. Now I just needed one more person on board. One of the few people Cora would actually listen too.

I entered the room Varidun was being held in with hesitancy. He was the last person I would have thought to ever turn to for help. I felt partially to blame for him being here and the things that had been done to him. I could have let him go that night, not handed him over to Snoke for what probably felt like a lifetime of torture and pain. The door slid closed behind me, the only light coming from the medical equipment and the single beam of light that was trained on Varidun. I forced myself forward until I was in his line of sight. He remained still, glaring at me with the one eye he had left. “I know I’m the last person you want to see. But I need your help. Cora needs your help,” I stated. I reached over to the I.V drips, turning each of them down a little bit. It wasn’t a noticeable amount but it would slow the drugs just enough for Varidun to slowly regain his control of the force.

The one thing he did need was pain relief and Cora had been given more than she needed. She wouldn't notice a few missing and she wouldn't mind them going to Varidun if she knew anyway. I found an empty syringe and made sure it was clean before filling it with the pain relief. “This will help with the pain, I know she'd want you to have it,” I explained. He had no reason to trust me, but he also currently had no means of fighting back. I injected him with the solution before disposing off the syringe and needle. It wouldn’t work immediately, not with his much pain he'd been in for so long but it would be a start.

Eventually Varidun seemed more coherent and less in pain. His fingers twitched a little and he turned his head a little. “Don’t try to talk, I can’t have Snoke find out about this. From now on once a day I will give you more pain relief and slow the I.V more until your strong enough to escape on your own. But Cora will need you once Snoke has been dealt with. She’s straying towards the dark and I feel you'll be the only person she listens to,” I explained. He'd found the light before through her and Luke, he had to help her find the light if I couldn’t. I knew I'd have him on board if not for my sake but for Cora's. I'd said all I needed too for now and hastily left before I could be caught.

Taglist: @sweetfictionalworld, @belathora, @sweetsec-93, @cltex84, @momobaby227, @jana-banana-fana, @dark-night-sky-99

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canyouhearthelight · 6 years

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The Miys, Ch. 13

Author’s Note: This is the first chapter written by my new co-author, @ritualistic-raven, AKA The Real Tyche. Initially, this was a fanfiction she wrote from Tyche’s perspective, but as soon as I found out, I had to read it. The idea of everything was just too good not to include! Obviously, this chapter is dedicated, first and foremost to her: For being my biggest fan, my staunchest supporter, and with everything going on in our lives right now, making everything as easy as possible on us both.

She would like to dedicate this chapter to Dante, God Rest His Soul.

Please: Read, Review, Reblog.

“Where were you when it happened?”

I sighed deeply as I placed my mug on the table. “Antoine, why would you ask this?” As I said his name, his grip on my hand tightened reassuringly.

Sophia raised an eyebrow at his gesture. “You have been avoiding it. You haven’t even told me and I’m your sister. Between you and my old therapist, I know first-hand that talking helps. You know what I’m talking about.” She gently pet the purring puddle of fur on her lap, pausing only when it stretched, showcasing claws and fangs.

In my heart, I knew she was right. There was a complication though: my memory never had been reliable. “More holes than a sponge and nowhere as absorbent,” is how I had always described it. I could summarize ten years in three sentences. These survivors wanted a story, not the bullet points.

“I haven’t undergone repair yet. I know Noah can fix me. My memory. I’m just not sure I want that. Soph, you know how bad my life was back home. Antione, darling, I’ve briefed you on a few parts. Conor, Arantxa, you will likely find out soon. I don’t hide my past, but I also don’t simply offer it,” I sighed again, the last few words feeling tight in my throat. “What I mean is… I only remember pieces. I can share those, but a lot is missing. Most was either repetitive or I just don’t remember.”

All eyes were on me, even the bright green eyes of the fur-puddle.

“Tyche?” Antoine spoke softly, but his voice shook ever-so-slightly.

The hand that wasn’t on mine reached for my other wrist, the one I hadn’t realized was held in a fist next to my shoulder. He pulled back to show blood on his fingertips, only, it wasn’t his.

My sister stood up casually and announced our meeting was over for tonight. “Tyche will be okay. I’ve got this. If everyone could just leave, without touching her, I’ll get her cleaned up. It’s PTSD, and she just told us she hasn’t let the Miys treat her. Tyche will be okay. I’ve got her.”

Our friends placed their dinnerware on the counter and each said goodnight, concern in every word. After the doors to my quarters closed, Sophia sat beside me, where Antoine had been, and sat our now-shared cat on the table in front of me. “Can you see ‘now’ or are you seeing the past?” she asked quietly.

Being able to act in the present while my mind showed me only the past was an unfortunate skill of mine. No one could really explain how I could do this, but it was classed as a form of shellshock. With so many on the ship with moderate to severe levels of PTSD, the Miys had found my particular form of shellshock fascinating.

“Now,” I barely whispered. My right hand found the cat while my left was clenched tight. Blood dripped slowly toward my elbow.

“Good start,” Sophia said, still quiet, with a ridiculous level of calm that I knew was her own self-defense mechanism. “Your hand is bleeding. I’m guessing you flashed back to something really awful. I’m so sorry, Tyche.” She calmly uncurled my fingers to look at the cuts. My fingernails had dug into my palm pretty deeply, somehow without registering pain.

A voice came over the intercom that rang with panic and anger. “She’s bleeding! Why would you let her hurt herself, Soph?! How was bringing up the beginning of the End a good idea?!”

My chair fell back a few feet when I erupted from it. “Don’t you dare blame her for this!” I thrust my hand poignantly toward the camera module, emphasizing my last word. “Don’t you dare blame any of them, Simon!”

“Tyche, you need to calm down. Raising your—”

“Oh, fuck off. I have PTSD, as do all of us – except you, might I add? I am traumatized and I refused treatment.”

“That’s—”

An absolutely primal scream roared from my tiny frame because I could not stand Simon. He was truly terrible at handling any of my PTSD episodes, had been since the moment I first woke up on Ark.

“Tyche—”

I audibly growled before I spoke again. “What are you even watching me for? You swore you wouldn’t when you stepped down from the Council! What the hell do you want?”

He cleared his throat from his location elsewhere on the ship. “You have a meeting in two hours. Your quarter doors were set to Do Not Disturb and due to your illness history, there was concern for your safety. Apparently with good reason.”

“Simon,” my sister began as she set my chair upright, still unnaturally calm but clearly scolding him with that one word. “You know to check entry logs first. Then you would have seen I had an official appointment with our Assistant Director of Administration. Go back to work.”

“With all due respect, ma’am—”

“The concern is appreciated. She is my sister, though. I am one of the few people in any universe she trusts. Please, just – go away. Tyche would probably like privacy now.” She shifted her gaze to me.

I nodded almost imperceptibly. As I turned around to walk to my bed, the intercom clicked off. The Miys, with their not-very-good understanding of privacy, slipped words into my mind. “There is an infirmary approximately two-hundred and fifty yards from your quarters. Would you like to be escorted?”

The telepathic hive-mind alien ‘spoke’ in a tone of genuine concern. I don’t think it had witnessed a physical result from PTSD before.

“No, I have not. Your recollection is – fragmented, but very strong. How can the human psyche withstand such emotions of such strength?”

I brought the knuckles of my wounded hand to my forehead. “It can’t. The psyche breaks. Otherwise, post-traumatic stress disorder wouldn’t exist. If our psyche could handle it, our brains wouldn’t…” I waved my hand to signal I was trying to find a word. “Our brains wouldn’t glitch, or malfunction, or however you best understand the damage done to my brain by my traumatic experiences.” Sophia opened the door and reminded me about the infirmary. Apparently, our host had included her in the conversation.

“Right. Thanks. I’ve managed to keep my hand pretty since before the End. Let’s not break that streak now.”

The alien body in the infirmary was just as tall the all the others. Not really a surprise, given the months I had been on this ship, but I had hoped for some distinguishing feature from time to time. My sister, however, could tell them apart. How she did that remained a mystery to me.

I strolled over to the Miys body assigned here and carefully held out my wounded hand. With one pair of hands, it placed my arm on an exam bench adjusted to my shoulder height. It did know I was on my way, after all. This was also not my first visit. The Miys vessel moved a CD sized scanner over the wound, no doubt checking the severity of the injury.

“So, Tyche,” my sister said with a note of curiosity. “Who is this Antoine guy? You two seemed awfully chummy.”

I looked at her and blinked, trying to register what she asked. The Miys still had little understanding of dissociation, but Sophia understood perfectly and showed patience. She knew what post-panic numbness felt like.

“He’s, um… What do you mean? Chummy? In what sense?” My brain was catching up and my tone reflected playfully.

She placed a hand on her hip and tilted her head. “I saw Antione’s hand on yours. We both know you’re generally a prickly person,” she laughed. “You were practically cuddling with him, if someone knew what to look for.”

“Oh! That. He’s basically my assigned comfort-human. Ever since I told our hosts about touch-starvation, they’ve been trying to encourage me to bond with someone. Y’know. For my health.” A cold serum was injected into my palm. “Ah! You could have warned me!”

The serum was designed to heal our wounds almost instantly. It worked, mostly. As long as the injury wasn’t what human consider severe – the Miys considered everything severe – the serum could stimulate rapid cell growth. You could actually watch the injury heal within minutes. The only side-effect was a few days of the site tingling.

“Anyway,” I said as I watched the cuts on my palm heal, “Antoine was one of the ‘candidates’ to ‘facilitate’ catching me up on lost touch or whatever. He’s good at snuggling, will bring me meals when I’m not well, and fully respects that I am asexual. I ended up telling Them, well, It, since there’s only one mind… Ugh… I still feel awkward about the pronouns… Our Host that it really is best for me if I receive that touch from someone I can get to know. That sounds creepy, I know, but I digress. I guess Antoine is like an arranged boyfriend? He knows the deal. Aroace. He asked what it means and I explained. He said that actually makes things less awkward if we end up not getting along and have to end our ‘arrangement.’”

We both laughed as we left the infirmary. I told her it was much easier to get the cuisine I was accustomed to thanks to Antoine and some of the things he had told me about himself.

The pendant on her necklace chimed, signaling that my that my councilmember sister had another official meeting. Our three hours had come to an end.

“Same time next week?” She asked, casually brushing her fingertips over the pendant to silence it.

I looked down as I smirked. “I can take a sedative just to make sure things don’t turn out like this week. So yeah, same time next week.”

We parted ways and I couldn’t help but think of how badly I had reacted to a simple question. He didn’t mean anything by it. At some point, we all shared our stories with a crowd. Some days, the assemblies felt like Addicts Anonymous. The attending members were almost always awkward, fumbling through their histories on Earth. Given that my position on the ship dealt with so many people, I knew that sharing my story would help them see me less as a bureaucrat. Seeing me as a person they can relate to would make my job easier when learning where to place them for jobs.

Looked like it was time for me to get the hard part over with, damn the emotions and full speed ahead.

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#miys #the miys #humans are weird #humans are space orcs #earth is space australia #science fiction #sci fi #aliens #apocalypse #fiction #original #writing #my writing

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vvlin91 · 7 years

Text

The Making of Sanaich

How 19-year-old Sana Hiroki transformed himself into an 80s yaoi icon

Maraich is special to the Patalliro! series even before author Maya Mineo realized it. He confessed to planning to kill him off after a few chapters but saw the character had a life of its own and therefore he felt compelled to let him live. I wonder if this happened before or after Maraich was assigned to be 18 years of age, because Maya Mineo fell in love with his wife at first sight when he was 27, which is Bancoran’s age, and his wife 18. In the manga Maya-sensei also jokingly stated that Bancoran’s cheating was in no way a reflection of his own behaviors. And the fact that Maya-sensei’s now-mangaka daughter saw Patalliro as a sibling growing up kind of indirectly shows how Bancoran and Maraich’s relationship is in certain ways a representation of Maya-sensei’s own marriage.

Maya-sensei is delightfully weird, as you would expect from the man who created Patalliro! in the first place. So a lot of the decisions he has made about his story and characters don’t fit into boxes. He said he wasn’t good at drawing women so he made all his characters gay even though the pretty boys he draws are all indistinguishable from women.

And even though Maraich was one of the most important characters of the story, he never bound himself or anyone else to any set ways of portraying the character. Maraich was famously voiced by female voice actor Fujita Toshiko, and Maya-sensei had characterized Maraich as “a girl with a boy’s body”, despite the fact that Maraich throughout the series has used “boku”, which is the male first-person pronoun and on several occasions made it clear that he is a male and has no problem staying that way. So the whole thing is a very fluid situation and Maya-sensei is almost always just free-ranging.

When Stage Patalliro! became a thing but the cast has not been determined, Maya-sensei called his daughter Marie to ask about whether Maraich should be played by a man or a woman. Little did he realize that because Marie was raised on all the BL manga he had gathered over the years in his household, there was only one possible answer from a hardcore fujoshi.

The conversation was first revealed in Marie’s own comic series:

“100% MALE!” was Marie’s instant reply. So we might have her to thank for Sanaich.

“For real?” was Sana’s initial response after being cast as Maraich. He didn’t know Patalliro! prior to the play and there was little in common between he and his character. Maraich looks like a woman, and was voiced by a woman, moreover Maya-sensei sees Maraich as a girl at heart and even wants a female to play the role, everything was mounting on Sana who has so far made his name by playing a serious character.

A known hard-worker, Sana did not dwell on the pressure and dived into the series. He read the entire manga(which was 90+ volumes and counting) and watch the anime on DVD(49 episodes not counting the movie). It was then when he saw that Maraich always uses “boku” when referring to himself.

“So there is still a part of him that is a boy.”

He expressed his thoughts to Maya-sensei when they sat down for an interview for the first time. And Maya-sensei, being his free-ranging self and all, essentially advised him to approach the character his own way. That is to say, he doesn’t have to feel confined by the anime’s female voice(which would be impossible for him to mimic anyway) or even Maya-sensei’s own characterizations. They have cast a boy, so Maraich now is a boy and there is nothing wrong with playing him as one.

“I often see (Maraich) being called ‘the one in a million pretty boy’ so I thought, ‘Ah, he’s a boy after all.’”

“My voice is so deep.”

“My shoulders are a little too wide.”

The photoshoot was just one of the places for such concerns, where Sana had to come up with very feminine and even erotic poses. Luckily he got advice from the staff and he also observed the women around him. He ultimately settled for a “worried” face, expressing the inner thought of “What do I even do...”

(Aoki Tsunenori, who plays Bancoran, said, “I didn’t receive any special instructions for the photoshoot.”)

The result was stunning.

Tsune: I don’t dislike girls with wide shoulders at all. It’d definitely score a pass for me.

Sana: I’m so glad ♪ (A/N: the music note was printed in the actual interview)

(Despite that, Sana carried the same concerns with him even long after the show was over. In these two clips(1/2) where he watched himself as Maraich on stage, you can still see him feeling uneasy about his voice and any sign of masculinity, despite his fellow actors' repeated reassurance that he was adorable and his style was really good. )

To look like the character is one thing, to give him life on stage is another.

Even though they have established the fact that Maraich is a boy, he is still a feminine one. A lot of ideas flew around from the director and others on how Maraich would behave under different circumstances(80s female idols were an important point of reference). Once the directives were in his head, Sana realized he had indeed started acting more “girlish” even without realizing. He started to obsess over make-up, buying fashion magazines targeted at women, and unconsciously dancing in a very feminine manner... At one point he wondered if he had gone a little too far and really became a girl, but he was also having so much fun so he just laughed it off.

However, there was another elephant in the room: Maraich and Bancoran’s same-sex relationship, which was something new to both actors.

Sana: (while staring at Tsune) I want to convey the ultimate love story that even the audience would envy. Tsune: I never injected love to a boy this way though~ Sana: I have never fallen in love with a man before so...please take care of me! Tsune: Well, me neither. (LOL) (A/N: the bracket notes are also printed in the actual interview)

Since both actors considered themselves to be straight(haha), Maya-sensei advised Sana to think of himself as a boy with a girl's heart to help him approach same-sex romance for the first time. Tsune then declared, “Sana I’m going to treat you like a girl now” which Sana happily agreed to. They indeed grew to enjoy each other’s company, sometimes caught by fellow actors sharing a private moment together and both spoke very fondly of the experience even long after the show was over.

And there’s the fanfiction-like story of how they managed to kiss without feeling embarrassed.

Here’s a video you have probably watched 200 times because I reblogged it 2000 times.

They were determined to get this right. Tsune said in a later interview that he didn’t want people to think they were faking the kiss so a simple brush on the lips was out of the question. Kato Ryo(Patalliro), who somehow always gets asked about the kiss even though he personally was not involved, also said they both really went for it with all they had.

And there is also the love-making. Neither spoke much about it unfortunately but we know this position was coined by Kato Ryo and there was a lot of trial and error happening under everyone’s watchful eyes. So we at least know they had to rehearse in the middle of the room with everyone watching.

Alas, Maraich is more than just a pretty face.

Maraich is a trained assassin and literal killing machine. Check out Sana’s epic high kicks in this action sequence with Tsune.

Maraich is also a sentimental lover. His solo "That Man" is an expression of his rawest emotions, and a very subtle tribute to the fact that Maraich was one of the earliest manga characters to be shown engaging in masturbation.

Remember how Sana was concerned about his deep, manly voice? In Maraich and Bancoran’s duet "Snipers of Love", you can clearly hear that Tsune's voice is a lot higher than his but that did not keep this song from being one of the most brainwashing tracks coming from any stageplay.

And there’s also this moment of truly seamless acting:

Maya-sensei's daughter and mangaka Yamada Marie grew up with BanMara. Yet even she, after watching the stageplay, found herself shipping BanMara even harder and started to actively use the term "Sanaich", combining the actor and character's names.

Kato Ryo, who was the determining factor that made the play even remotely plausible, mentioned how having Sana as Maraich and Tsune as Bancoran helped him relieve a lot of the pressure. Patalliro, Bancoran and Mariach are the pillars of the original story, and it is not surprising that the stageplay could only work out when there are three competent and talented actors to fill those roles. In fact, in many group and solo interviews the three of them did before and after the play, they brought up how watching each other get into character gave them confidence and even more faith that this play - long considered an impossible project - will work out just fine.

In the end, Sana probably found that he and Maraich had more in common than he first thought. Sana is a very talented and hardworking actor. His subsequent performances as Sesshomaru in Stage Inuyasha and Bedivere in Stage FGO were also highly praised, but I still feel Maraich is his most outstanding performance to date. There's just something about Sanaich that feels so natural, something close to perfection came out of that flawless addition of unabashed boyishness and Maraich's sentimentalism.

After the final performance, Sana wrote on his blog,

"I am so happy to be able to play Maraich. So happy that I might have got pregnant...LOL"

And here’s a gif of him having fun.

Well, he's just not pregnant...yet.

#sana hiroki #maraich #patalliro #cock robin killed me #DID YOU THINK I ONLY WRITE META ON KUROMYU #NOPE #every time I see people say Sana's Sesshomaru is so good #I be like ok you are not wrong #BUT YOU HAVEN'T SEEN NOTHING #you can never begin to grasp this boy's talent without having seen his Maraich #oh god when is the last time I wrote this long a post

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ghost-chance · 6 years

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A New Lease on Life Prologue

Amber O'Brien died with one regret: she never found love worth living for. Then she woke up in another world, on April's sofa, with a big fat purple dragon tattoo in her cleavage and a major 'dying' hangover. Stuck with PTSD and in a body not her own, she searches for answers and strength. Things are rarely what they seem, and love never comes easy. Slow burn, multipart, Donnie/OC-centric, NOT self-insert.

So...this has already been uploaded on FFnet and AO3 for quite some time now, but I haven’t uploaded much of it to Tumblr yet. Thinking I may need to fix that. Currently, the story’s nearing the end of Part III so you’ve got a ways to read before running out and having to wait for updates - sweet, right? I’ll be queuing the finished chapters for automatic posting, but please be patient with me while I work out the formatting differences for this site.

Just a quick note before beginning the chapter: Main pairings are Donatello/OC and Raphael/OC, and minor canon pairings are Leonardo/OC and Michelangelo/OC. The story starts off a bit slow but once you’ve gotten past the setup chapters - I believe the first five or so...? - it picks up steadily. If you enjoy this story, feel free to reblog, comment, whatever you want - it really makes my day.

Check out the official “A New Lease on Life, Part I” Playlist!

TRIGGER WARNING: Panic attacks.

Suggested Listening: The Rasmus "In the Shadows"

Begin PART I: Time to Burn

------------------------------

Prologue

------------------------------

New York City, January 27th, 2016

"Don't even think about it, Mikey." Right on cue, a loud splash sounded some distance down the tunnel, followed by Raphael sputtering angrily. Donatello smiled despite himself, certain water balloons had been involved. As the two troublemakers wrestled in the gravel and debris lining the empty rail bed, Leonardo approached the brother silently studying a map projected over his arm.

"Where does he hide those, anyway?" Leo joked as he fell into step beside him. "I could've sworn he used the last one up three tunnels back."

"Apparently not," Don replied, scanning the walls for telltale signs that they were on the right path. Familiar graffiti and discreet markings in the concrete were as useful as any map when you knew the tunnels like they did. "At least he's occupied, right? We're almost there anyway."

The night before had been interrupted by a sudden blaring alarm from the security system indicating that movement had been detected in an abandoned subway station about a mile from the lair. Though nothing was ever visible on the cameras, that alarm sounded several more times that night and throughout the morning. By the time noon rolled around everyone was quite fed up with it and Donatello, frustrated at what was likely a bug in the systems, packed up to lead the team out in search of the problem.

"This is it," he remarked as they neared their turnoff. The City Hall subway station had been long abandoned but was always a sight to see. As his brothers crept along silently behind him, he inched up the corridor, scouting for heat sources with his goggles. As he'd expected, it was completely vacant.

"So," Mikey asked brightly. "If the coast is clear, can we go home now? I don't wanna miss Glee." With a wary cringe, Raph edged away mumbling under his breath about something being contagious.

"Not yet, Mikey," Leo answered. "Not 'til Donnie figures out what set the systems off." With a mumbled 'Bummer,' Mikey slumped over to the breakerbox on a nearby wall and switched on the lights. Dim yellowed light flooded the once beautiful room, Green and ivory tile gleaming beneath years of filth. Don hastened to a bronze placard to inspect the hidden security camera he'd installed there years before. With a loose brick removed, the answer was clear.

"Mystery solved," he remarked dryly when a few wires fell out completely. Damaged, disconnected output wires couldn't transmit video. He deftly repaired the connection with practiced ease; if the camera picked up anything, he'd be able to see it when they returned.

"Uh...guys?" Leo ground out, backing away from a rubbish heap in the corner. "We've got company!" Three pairs of eyes snapped to the shifting garbage, and Donatello realized his heat sensors missed something. A body lay curled up in the rubbish pile shivering violently. The other three hung back nervously as he hurried to the person's side running health diagnostics on them the whole way. The woman was scantily clothed, only a few degrees from hypothermia, and from the looks of it, halfway unconscious...and strangely familiar, though he shoved that thought away.

"Not good," Donnie exclaimed as he dug through his pack for his medkit and the foiled emergency blanket. "She must've wandered in last night, setting off the alarms! With that little clothing on, she's lucky she didn't freeze to death!" The telltale rumble of a passing train sounded nearby as he wrapped her tightly in the foil-lined blanket, and everything went to Heck in a handbasket. Without warning her eyes flew wide open and terrified screams shattered the air; unseeing moss green eyes stared up at the intricately tiled ceiling as she scrambled out of the blanket and back to her corner. Still shrieking and sobbing she fell to her side in a fetal position, clutching her hands over her neck and shaking violently.

"Well, dere ya go, Donnie," Raph grumbled. "Junkie on a bad trip set off ya sensors." He cringed as yet another terrified wail ripped from her lungs. Donatello shook his head emphatically as he yanked his goggles back up.

"No, she's clean!" he protested at top speed as he dug through his bag again. "I'm not picking up even traces of anything—alcohol, heroin, marijuana, not even tobacco!—her heartrate's through the roof and her adrenaline levels are spiking rapidly! Leo, hold her down!" While Leo and Mikey restrained the thrashing woman screeching unintelligibly, Don injected a sedative into her bare arm. Bit by bit her cries turned to groans and sobs; bit by bit, she fell limp in their grip.

Finally, all was still. A quick scan told Don her vitals were returning to normal and the fit had raised her core temperature a little. If the sensors had been set off by fits like that one, he supposed, it explained how she'd survived the cold night. Despite himself he brushed a lock of bright red hair away from her closed eyes; it was dyed, of course, and he couldn't help wondering what the natural color was. Silently reminding himself of his task he wrapped her up again and hoisted her into his arms; across the chamber, Raph startled.

"Wait a sec," he muttered stalking over. "I seen'er before…she—"

"—needs help," Leo cut him off, retrieving her glasses from the rubbish heap. "Regardless of who or what she is, we can't just leave her down here. It's January—she'll freeze to death!" As the two butted heads, Don shifted her to his shoulder in a fireman's carry and dug out his phone. After all, April had never refused to help them, yet.

Prologue chapter is short. Rest of them? NOT short, averaging 7-12 pages apiece. Consider the short chap an appetizer.

UP NEXT: Amber or Kimber?

#TMNT #teenage mutant ninja turtles #Ninja Turtles #donatella versace #Raphael #Leonardo #Michelangelo #donnie/oc #Raph/OC #Leo/OC #Mikey/OC #Romantic Drama #Non-Sue OCs #A New Lease on Life #ANLoL #Here be plot twists

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idyllicjaehyun · 7 years

Text

be there; j.jk - chapter I

summary: min ara, 19 years old, torn away from her father by death, and suffering constantly from tuberculosis. jeon jungkook, 20 years old, no family left, and also suffering constantly from tuberculosis. what a coincidence, right?

word count: 932

genre: angst, fluff, more angst, mystery

author’s note: hello memers! here’s the first chapter of a new story i’m writing! i hope you enjoy it!! be sure to reblog and give hearts and all that. okay bye!!

the beeping of the machine beside me was the only thing i could hear. the absence of light in this hospital room was the only thing i could see. the tears rolling down my cheeks were the only thing i could feel.

my sobs echoed throughout the room and cold air from the open window was seeping into the room, making it harder for me to stop.

this is me, min ara.

i am an 19 year old girl, diagnosed with a severe case of tuberculosis, and i have a long story to tell about it. born the 2nd of June, 1998, my mother died two weeks after having me, so i don't have any memories of her. people say she was a goddess-like woman, and that i got her looks.

i wish i did.

anyways, my dad was the only person i had left. he was the one person in this world that i cherish with all my heart. he'd do everything in his power to make sure i was happy, that i was healthy, and that i was loved. my love for my father was so profound and there was nothing like it.

that's what made it harder for me to deal with his death.

he died 2 years ago in a car accident, whilst he was driving back home after working in another city for three weeks, just to provide happiness and education for me. and just when i thought it couldn’t get any worse, it did.

my aunt, min jisoo, took me in after my dad's death. although, i wish she hadn't. all she did is drink, yell and sleep. she's what got me into smoking, which inevitably led to me having tuberculosis.

smoking, dancing, music and singing became the only ways to relieve me from this hell hole of a world i live in. i couldn't handle her sickening behavior anymore, so i moved back into my old house, the one my dad and i used to live in. thankfully, my dad left me all his savings, which amounted to quite a lot, a few millions. but of course, my aunt demanded that i give her some of my fathers money, that money hungry idiot. here's where it gets worse.

when i refused, she began abusing me, verbally and physically. you're probably asking, where's the uncle? who in the right mind would ever marry someone like her? nobody, of course. never been married, and never will be, at least by the looks of it.

i used that exact phrase when we were fighting one of our numerous fights. that's what led to me being stabbed in the stomach and having a scar to remember it all. since then, she's been arrested for life, since she actually killed someone in the past, long before i was born, and i couldn't be happier that she was finally out of my life. thinking that everything in my life was slowly returning back to normal, with me living in my own home and graduating from high school, i was diagnosed with tuberculosis.

which leads me to where i am now.

why am i crying, you may ask. today marks the second year my father died. i'm never one to cry, but my father meant so much to me. the tuberculosis is hitting me hard at this moment, and with the pain of my fathers death, it's all too much. i hit the emergency button, seeking for any help possible.

after a brutal 5 minutes of waiting, a nurse came in, with an injection in her hand. 'oh yeah, that injection.' i thought. the injection that hurt like hell, but the only one that would stop the pain at this point. i didn't care, i couldn't bear the pain anymore.

"i'm sorry hun, this might hurt. tell me if it hurts too much, okay?" said the kind nurse calmly. her sweet voice and kind words put me at ease. slightly relaxed, i mentally prepared myself for the pain.

the nurse slowly inserted the injection into my arm, the pain increasing the more of it she inserted. "all done, hun. you're quite brave! now, don't hesitate to hit that emergency button if you feel even a hint of pain." said the nurse kindly. "thank you ma'am." i replied quietly. "call me lea, darling." said the nurse calmly. her sweet words and voice gave me hope that kindness still does exist in this cold world. she gave me a warming smile before slowly walking out of the hospital room. 'don't go.' i thought.

i hated being lonely.

i'd been lonely for so long, that even a little bit of human interaction would make me beam with happiness. losing myself in thoughts, i finally drifted off into sleep.

-jungkook’s pov-

"mr. jeon, tonight you'll be sleeping in a shared room, alright? don't worry, the girl is nice." said nurse lea, the only person who seemed to care. slowly nodding, i put my phone down and let nurse lea take me to my new room. i will admit, i was kind of scared.

would this person stay?

would this person leave me like the others?

nurse lea pushed open a hospital door, distracting me from my thoughts, and that's when i saw the girl.

she was asleep and she looked so pale, with dark circles under her eyes and band aids all over her. something in my heart made me want to just give her a hug and protect her from this world.

she seemed like someone who's been through a lot.

someone like me.

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monsterparnasse · 7 years

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MONTPARNASSE’S RP PLOTTING CHEAT-SHEET

Want new-and-exciting plots for your character? Long to reach out to more of your followers, but don’t know where to start? Fear not! Fill out this form and give your RP partners both present and future all the of juicy jumping off points they need to help you get your characters acquainted.

— Be sure to repost, don’t reblog! Template here. —

Mun name: Kaitie OOC Contact: Tumblr IM or discord if you have it

who the frick is montparnasse anyway:

THE BOY. He was born Raoul Nejem, son of a French native and Pakistani immigrant. Outside of his father and uncle, he’s never really met his dad’s side of the family, but he grew up surrounded by his maternal grandparents, and his mother’s sister in a suburb outside of Paris. His family never really had a lot of money, but they made do. His father works as a pastry chef and his mother is in management of a small boutique chain. Raoul grew up in a loving environment, but the short of it is, he’s still a shitty human being. He was something of a bully in elementary school, getting others in trouble for the things he did, stealing from classmates, etc. The longer he got away with it, the more the habits stuck with him. He made rule breaking seem cool and by time he was in high school he was fairly popular with the wrong crowd and was starting to call himself Montparnasse. He was everything parents warned their kids about, but always wore a smile and put on a pleasant face in front of authority. In school itself, he coasted on average grades with bare minimum effort to keep them, but in the end he still dropped out his senior year to his parent’s dismay.

THE TEEN. Montparnasse left behind all ties to Raoul Nejem and moved to Paris proper with a friend. The two quickly lost track of each other and Montparnasse got involved with a rapidly increasing amount of crime. It started with knock offs, moved onto drug trade, and escalated to murder after a partner turned on him. It was self defense, but it shattered any remaining innocence of the boy from Arcueil. Having caught the attention of three older, more experienced criminals in the city, Montparnasse made an alliance with what would soon be known as the Patron Minette. Between the four of them, they had a wide range of influence in crime in the city and coming together brought them stability and control.

THE LEGEND. Montparnasse is now a name known throughout the criminal scene of Paris as Patron Minette’s boy king. He is not the leader of the four, that is a title they each hold claim to, but he is known for his theatrics and flair in a way that the others are generally not. He is a shadow, a thief, a crime lord. He is petty, vengeful, terrible, and capable of deceiving half of Paris with no more than a smile.

points of interest:

THIEF: Montparnasse has been stealing for the fun of it since he was a boy and has turned it into something of a career move. While he’s generally more of a night person, if Montparnasse is out and about during the day it’s generally in the business of lifting people of their wallets and valuables. Both wiith the Minette and on his own, Montparnasse is something of a burglar as well. Alarm systems do little to deter him.

DRUGS: Montparnasse is in the business of trading more than he is in the business of using. He and the Minette supply their dealers scattereed around the city and handle the shipping of the drugs into Paris more than anything. While he’s not opposed to using recreationally, he has a strict rule against injecting anything and ruining his skin with track marks.

FASHION: Montparnasse dresses in the best of what he can get his hands on. While having a strong hand in the knock off trade, he strives to replace his own fakes with the real designers. Even when he’s in jeans and a tee shirt, it’s safe to assume Montparnasse is either wearing or emulating a designer name. He is also known to wear clothing designed with women in mind, never so far as to be considered a cross dresser, but he does wear them casually and without care. Generally, it’s just in the cut of the pants or the shirt, but he has been known to wear other garments as well. Most notably, he wears heeled boots and has absolutely been seen running in them with something of a terrifying proficiency.

RECORD: He has been arrested on several occasions, but has never been caught for something that could put him away, much to the displeasure of certain inspectors. Eponine usually ends up posting bail for him since loyalty of the Minette does not really extend to walking into the hands of the police force.

MURDER: Montparnasse does not take this course of action lightly. While his associates might take to this a little more frequently than he likes, Montparnasse really has no inclination to get caught up in a murder investigation. If he needs someone gone, he leaves it to Claquesous and Gueulemer or tasks it to one of their subordinates. DO NOT, howvever, mistake his unwillingness to a lack of capablity. He can and will take a life if it comes down to it. He has no tolerance for traitors and will often personally put the bullet in the skull of anywhere who wears Minette colors and turns.

THREAT: Montparnasse is dangerous, but the majority of those who meet him do not know to what extent. While he can absolutely be charming and polite, he is generally something of an asshole and wears the ‘bad boy’ attitude as something of a badge. Most people, and this goes for the majority of Les Amis as well, do not know to what extent his criminal connections go. It is generally safe to assume he has some shady friends and probably carries a knife for more than decoration, but few connect him to the criminal organization that is practicaly running Paris underground unless they too have ties to the criminal underground. If that’s the case, Montparnasse is probably a name they reognize, even if they don’t connect it to the pretty boy in front of them.

DECEPTION: Montparnasse is willing to play to the assumptions made about him – to an extent. There are people who see him among the other leaders and think it’s some kind of joke. He has been taken as some sort of ‘boy toy’ to the other three on several occasions and has always let the bastard dig their grave before destroying them and brutally setting things straight. If there is a chance for him to use your assumptions of him to his own benefit, he absolutely will.

what they’ve been up to recently:

Montparnasse manages to keep a low profile, shockingly enough. While his reputation proceeds him, unless something Big™ is going down, his pursuits are generally played close to hand. On the regular, he is managing the Minette with the other three and dealing with those who report to him. He is largely involved in their knock off and smuggling dealings, often using the knock offs as a means of transporting other products including counterfeits and drugs.

where to find them:

THE THEATRE: This locale is limited to the heads and upper tier of Patron Minette, and probably Gavroche who is just, you know. Gavroche. This is the main headquarters of the four heads and where Montparnasse spends a good deal of his time organizing jobs and the like.

APARTMENT: Montparnasse has an apartment that is strictly his own and usually frowns on the other Minette showing up at it, or at the very least on them lurking around his doorstep. It’s a small, modern set up that he keeps extremely neat to the point it looks under lived in.

SAFE HOUSES: The Minette have a number of safe houses scattered in and around Paris that the four heads and a handful of their subordinates know about. Most learn about the locations after being brought to one by one of the heads when a situation got too hot.

SOUTH SIDE: Montparnasse does most of his business around the south side of the city in the area of the Montparnasse cemetery because he’s that kind of asshole. This is in the general vicinity of the Musain, so while he doesn’t usually attend the cafe, he does cross paths with its regulars frequently.

current plans:

CRIME: It’s not so much a plan as it as a life style. He’s just doing his day to day in managing his corner of the operation and keeping up his own standard of living through illegal means. He has no interest in the affairs of Les Amis and their lofty aspirations, he’s just focused on number one.

NOT PRISON: He can’t even begin to describe how badly he would like to not go to prison. Getting arrested is one thing, but the idea of an actual prison sentence is the kind of shit he chain smokes over at six in the morning when he’s trying to sleep.

desired interactions:

Montparnasse trying to get himself out of trouble is one of my favorite things in the world and watching him sweet talking his way out of and into anything is always fun. There is so much room to work with Montparnasse and I would love to explore him beyond the guy Les Amis wrinkle their noses at. I want to especially do more with Montparnasse flaunting his dangerous side, more so when it’s around other dangerous characters than the goody goods.

offered interactions:

The bad boy. The asshole. The thief. Montparnasse isn’t pure evil by any means, and he does have his redeeming qualities if you’ve managed to hack away at his 97 defense layers, but he is an antagonistic character. If you ever need someone to play the part of the jerk, he’s here for you. Montparnasse is pretty much the worst qualities of every dude T.Swift has ever sung about rolled up into one pretty, trash prince package.

anything else?:

I love all my alternate verses for Montparnasse, and I will always be excited to explore one of those with you too. Additionally, I have a not-so-secret-secret au option of interacting with older/post-barricade Montparnasse if you want him.

#( ᴅᴇʟᴠɪɴɢ ᴅᴇᴇᴘᴇʀ ) ! headcanons

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diannaphantomfiction · 7 years

Text

Day Seven: Power Swap AU

Day 7 of 7

Fandom(s); The Arrow, The Flash, DCTVU

Summary: Oliver Queen has been the Flash for almost a year. He's good at his job and proud of it. Barry Allen had been the Arrow for only a few months. He's widely feared as a killer, lonely, and unfulfilled.

Date Uploaded: July 16th 2017

On AO3: Here

Notes: A day behind, but I'm done!!! This was a very fun week and I've added a couple stories to my list thanks to this week! Thank you all so all the reblogs and likes! You all rule!

Oliver Queen had been the Flash for almost a year and he was good at it. Ever since he had woken up from his coma, other people affected by the Merlyn Particle Accelerator explosion had been causing chaos. Some of them were criminals, but most were just normal people, scared and unable to control their powers.

“Everything go okay Oliv-Flash?” Felicity’s voice rang through his com as he ran.

“Everything’s good, Overwatch. Just a scared six-year-old girl. I calmed her down and gave her parents the number for the training program.”

“Uh-huh, that’s great, but be need you back here. Like yesterday.”

Oliver’s stomach dropped, “I’m thirty seconds out!”

Oliver came to a halt at the bottom of the stairs that lead into the Foundry, causing some of the papers at Felicity’s station to go flying. The base smelled like blood and stress made the air thick and electric. Diggle was working on someone on the medical table as Felicity and Malcolm watch from a safe distance.

“We were compromised?” Oliver asked, pulling off his red domino mask as he stepped forward.

“It would appear so.” Malcolm said, his face suspiciously blank as he watched Diggle stitch up the young man lying on their medical table.

“Who is he? How did he find us?”

Felicity just made a small squeaking sound and gestured to one of the counters. Sitting among the weapons and devices Malcolm threw together to help take down meta-human criminals was a quiver full of arrows and a dark green bow.

“Central City’s vigilante?”

“I believe he calls himself the Arrow,” Malcolm responded.

“He’s about 600 miles out of his territory.”

Felicity looked at him is confusion, “Since when do you have territory?”

Malcolm smirked, “Blame Batman.”

Oliver sighed, “What I mean is that if he wants to shoot people full of arrows in his city I can’t stop him, but he’s not doing it here. Felicity, how much can you figure out about him before he wakes up?”

“Since we have access to his face, fingerprints, and DNA, a lot.”

A few hours later, after Felicity had gotten up as much information as she could, Oliver had sped read the information a few times to memorize it, and Diggle had collapsed on the base cot mumbling about idiot vigilantes, the Arrow woke up with a loud groan and sat up.

“Welcome back to the land of the living.” Oliver said, mask back on, vocal cords vibrating.

The Arrow smiled, a bright cheery thing that lit up his entire face. “Flash. Nice to meet you. Thanks for, ya know, saving my life.”

“You snuck into our base and collapsed on our floor with five bullet holes in your chest.”

“Six!” Diggle called, his voice muffled by a pillow.

“Six bullet holes.”

The Arrow shrugged, then winced, “I could exactly go to a hospital. I have no plans on ending up in Iron Heights. My mask?”

“You can have it back when you leave.”

“So, you know?”

“Barry Allen, twenty six years old, six years ago you went missing on a science exposition in the North China sea along with your mentor, Harrison Wells. You were found on and uncharted island the locals call Lian Yu where I’m guessing you learned your new archery skills.”

Barry Allen stood up slowly, his face contorting in pain as he did. “Impressive. Your computer girl is good.”

“What are you doing in my city?”

Barry chuckled, “Your city? Are you Batman?”

“This isn’t a joke.”

Barry sighed and grabbed his green leather jacket, “Count Vertigo. He makes the most dangerous drug on the market, calls Starling his home. Ring a bell?”

Oliver nodded.

“Well, he’s expanding into Central and I intend to stop him.”

“By putting an arrow in his heart?”

“Or his neck or eye.”

Oliver speed forward and grabbed the bow out of the Arrow’s hand just as he picked it up, “I’m not going to just stand by and et you kill people in my city.”

“One person. One very evil person who wants to corrupt my city.”

“Not happening.”

Barry’s face changed going from the open and passionate expressions from before to an emotionless, steely mask. The Arrow kicked out, hitting Oliver in the knee before getting behind him, twisting the speedster’s arm behind his back painfully and forcing him to his knees. Oliver grunted in pain and tightened his grip on the other man’s bow.

“I don’t want to hurt you. Drop. The. Bow.”

Diggle scurried out of bed, grabbed his gun, and turned the weapon on the archer. “Let him go, Arrow!”

“Don’t you people get it?! Vertigo kills people! The drug isn’t going to stop being passed around until the Count is dead!”

“That’s not our decision.” Oliver hissed, “I don’t know what happened to you on that island, but you're not there anymore. You don’t have to kill your enemies here.”

The Arrow just twisted Oliver’s arm more, causing him to let out a small cry of pain. It was enough to cause Oliver to loosen his grip on the bow. Within seconds, The Arrow had the bow, his quiver, and his mask and was halfway out of the Foundry.

“Oliver?” Diggle was by his side, checking on his arm. “You okay?”

“Already healing, I think. I should probably go after him.”

“I wouldn’t. Kid seems to be ruled by his PTSD, I wouldn’t go after someone that dangerous during an episode. Go home. I’ll get Felicity back and we’ll call you if anything happens.”

Oliver nodded and speed out. He should probably tell his mother what was going on anyways. He speed into his room and changed out of his suit, hiding away when there was a knock on his door.

“Oliver? Was that gust of wind you?”

“Yeah!”

“Can I come in?”

“Sure.”

Moira Queen entered her son’s room, eternally the picture of grace. “I saw you on the news, did everything go ok in the field?”

“Yeah. That was completely normal, but we did have a visitor from Central City in the foundry.”

Moira’s eyes flashed with recognition, “The Central City vigilante is in Starling? What is he even doing here?”

“Trying to kill a drug lord.”

“Oliver,” Moira said slowly, carefully picking her word, “You can not associate with that man.”

“I don’t think I have much of a choice right now. I’m not just going to let him kill someone.”

Moira examined her son’s face closely. “I know that look.”

“What look?”

“That the ‘there’s more to this person than they show look’.”

“That’s… not a look.”

“It is on you, Oliver,” Moira sighed, “Just promise me you’ll be careful?”

“I always am.”

Moira snorted, “No, Oliver, you’re really not.”

Oliver was expecting to get a call sooner than he did, but at 4:30 in the morning, his phone lit up with Diggle’s name and a text.

-He broke into the Verdant and is drinking our vodka.

So Oliver, not even bothering to change into his suit ran over and found the Arrow sitting at the bar in civilian cloths, drinking a glass of vodka.

“You were right.” Barry Allen called as Oliver walked over.

“You didn’t kill him?”

Barry took a deep breath and poured himself another glass. “I found him, I was ready to put an arrow in his heart, and then he injected himself with the largest dose of pure Vertigo I’ve ever seen. He was so afraid of me, that he decided overdosing on his own very dangerous drug was a better fate.”

Oliver just watched as the archer down the drink in one long swing and poured another glass.

“This isn’t what I wanted.”

“What did you want?”

Barry reached into his jacket and pulled out a small notebook. It was water damaged, but it looked like a list of names. “My mentor, right before he died, he gave me that. Said he had failed the city and asked me to right his wrongs. It turned into something more than that.”

“And now the people you want to help are afraid of you.”

Barry nodded, he was starting to look a little drunk, “This is all I know how to do anymore.”

“So keep doing it, but there’s nothing that says you have to kill your enemies.”

“Maybe,” Barry downed his drink, “I don’t have what you have here. A team, friends, support; it’s just me.”

“So change that too.”

Barry chuckled, “You make it sound so simple.”

Oliver smiled lightly, “I never said that, but I think you can do it.”

Barry grabbed another glass from behind the bar and filled it with vodka.

Oliver looked at the glass curiously. “I can’t get drunk.”

“Humor me.” Barry lifted his cup and said something in Russian before downing his drink.

After a few more drinks, Barry was pretty drunk and Oliver was (sadly) still sober.

Barry narrowed his eyes at the speedster. “I want to kiss you.”

Oliver had to hold back a laugh, “Alright.”

Barry perked up, reminding Oliver of an exciting puppy. “Really? Cause you’re like, crazy hot. You know that right?”

“I’ve been told and you’re not so bad yourself. Just, no more killing?”

“No more killing.” Barry leaned forward and pressed his lips against Oliver’s.

Barry’s lips were soft and plump against Oliver’s. His breath tasted like vodka, but Oliver figured his wasn’t much better. Oliver couldn’t help himself as he grabbed Barry’s arms and pulled him closer. Barry moaned softly against his mouth and parted his lips a little more. They stayed like that for a few seconds before Barry pulled back.

“That was nice. We should do that again sometime.”

Oliver smirked, “Not right now?”

“I got a train to catch,” Barry pulled a Sharpie out of his pocket and grabbed Oliver’s arm, writing his number down. “Till next time, Flash.”

#fanfiction #Olivarryweek2017 #Arrow #The Flash #shipping week #AU #Olivarry

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flowerfan2 · 7 years

Text

Somewhere Only We Know

I noticed that there isn't a single Bruce/Bucky fic on A03... Then this happened. Please reblog if you find it at all entertaining... there isn’t a Bucky/Bruce feed on A03 as far as I know!!

It’s written in full and will post in its entirety in the next week or so. Enjoy.

Bruce/Bucky, M,1800 words, Chapter 1/4. A03.

Chapter 1

Bucky comes to slowly, the chill from cryo hard to shake. He hears soft music, and quiet voices. When he can finally open his eyes, he scans the room for Steve, and tries not to ignore the stab of disappointment when he realizes he isn't there.

The Wakandan doctors smile gently and respectfully, but it's all medical talk for a while - they've found a way to de-trigger him, he seems to have suffered no harm in cryo, they'll run some tests as soon as he's more fully awake. No one tells him what he actually wants to know - where is everyone? What's happened while he's been out? - but he can't bring himself to ask any questions, not when they are treating him so kindly, and everything feels so floaty. It doesn't seem quite real.

After a time, when the doctors have left him to rest, there's a knock on the door. It opens slowly to reveal a slight man with glasses. He's got dark curly hair, graying at the edges, and looks mildly uncomfortable.

"Excuse me," the man says. "If you're feeling up to it, may I speak with you?"

"Sure," Bucky, says, his voice hoarse.

The man comes inside and perches himself on the edge of a chair near Bucky's bed.

"I'm Dr. Banner. Bruce." The man pauses, as if waiting for Bucky to figure it out - and then he does.

The Hulk. Great. Apparently mere mortals aren't enough to restrain Bucky.

Bruce apparently sees the distress in Bucky's eyes and a flash of embarrassment flickers across his face. "I'm responsible for the process we're going to use to remove your triggers. I wanted to go over the concept with you first, in case you had any concerns."

The Hulk figured out how to cure him? Bucky groans audibly, and presses his remaining hand to his face. Talk about jumping to conclusions. What an ungrateful bastard he is. They should have left him in cryo.

"Sergeant Barnes? Are you in pain?"

That name again. It's been too long since he was Sergeant of anything.

"Call me Bucky." Bucky peers through his fingers at Bruce, and then blinks at himself in amazement. "And, um, no. I'm not in pain." Which isn't exactly par for the course when it comes to being defrosted.

"You sound surprised."

"I kind of am."

Bruce smiles, just a little thing. "I'm glad to hear that. Coming out of cryo can be rough, if not done right."

Bucky considers him, this soft-spoken man who, according to popular belief, is nothing more than a rage monster. "Any chance you had something to do with how they brought me out this time?"

Bruce ignores his question, not impolitely, and holds up a tablet Bucky hadn't even seen. "Let's talk about what to expect tomorrow."

It doesn't take long - Bruce has developed some kind of biochemical process which sounds like magic, but Bucky supposes all science trends that way these days. They pause when King T'challa comes in to wish Bucky well. He doesn't linger, and he hands Bucky an honest to god paper letter on his way out. "Captain Rogers asked me to see that you received this," he says, but Bucky knows. He'd recognize Steve's handwriting anywhere.

"Bucky?" Bruce says tentatively, as if trying out the name. "Are you okay?"

Bucky isn't sure how he's going to open the letter with only one hand, but he is anxious to figure it out. "Just curious about what the hell is going on, is all."

"No one told you?"

Bucky feels a tremor of fear go through him as he shakes his head.

"Everyone's fine," Bruce says quickly. "Steve, and... everyone. But the accords are still a problem, and the, uh, 'Team Cap' folks still can't go back to the U.S. Other countries have relented, some have pulled back from the accords, but the States are being run by a difficult bunch right now. So when Thor asked for Steve's help, he went."

Bucky parses through this information. "So Steve's not...?"

Bruce delivers the news with a touch of wry humor. "Not on Earth, no. I'm very sorry." He touches a hand briefly to where Bucky is gripping the letter from Steve. "Why don't you read that? Text me if you want to talk, after." Bruce sets a fancy looking cell phone down on the table next to Bucky's head. "This has got my number in it, and your doctors, and some of the staff. You can ask any of us anything you want." He grins a little. "It's got some games, too. In case you get bored."

Bucky smiles back. This guy isn't half bad, he thinks. "Thanks."

"You're welcome." Bruce stands up and turns to leave the room.

"Wait - Doctor Banner?"

Bruce looks embarrassed again. "Call me Bruce, please."

"Bruce. How long has it been?"

Bucky sees Bruce straighten his shoulders, as if steeling himself. "Five years. And a month."

*****

Bucky allows himself a good pity sulk for a few minutes before he rips the letter open with his teeth. Five years. Five years to figure out how to take the grenade out of his head. He wants to be angry at Steve for not waking him up sooner, just to shoot the shit or go save the world together or something. But that's not what Bucky asked for. Damn Steve and his principled sculpted abs.

Five years. No wonder Steve got antsy and took off with Thor. Not that he's jealous, or anything. Maybe Thor can get Steve to loosen up. Bucky never really managed it.

Finally he unfolds the letter and starts to read.

Dear Buck,

Hopefully you're going to read this soon. Bruce says he's really close to a cure, and I believe him. I wish I could be there when you wake up, but trust me, Bruce is the best. He'll make sure you're treated right.

King T'challa says he'll try to get a message to me when it's done, but I can't promise I'll be able to be in touch. I'm working with Thor on this interplanetary peace plan (doesn't that sound crazy?) and apparently calling home isn't that simple from other worlds. But I'll try.

In the meantime, do whatever you need to do. I don't know how long I'll be gone, or if I'll be able to come back. The world kind of has it out for me right now. But you can stay in Wakanda safely as long as you want, or fly under the radar somewhere else, you've always been better at that than me.

Even with you still fast asleep, it's hard to leave you. But I know you're in good hands with Bruce. He showed up about a year ago - none of us had seen him in forever, he just disappeared - and announced that he wanted to help. Specifically, he wanted to help you. He never really came out and said why, but Sam got him taking one night and he thinks your situation is more than just a puzzle to Bruce. Somehow, it's something personal to him. Anyway, given that the man is not only one of the nicest people I know, but also a genius and capable of fighting off armies single handedly, I feel okay leaving you with him.

I've missed the shit out of you these past years. It was hard, with you here, but not, you know? Got under my skin, sometimes. Clint got frustrated with me, took off for who knows where, he keeps moving around. Natasha and Sam became pretty close, they're running some kind of super secret ops for T'challa. Wanda's off with Vision. They all keep in touch, there's no hard feelings.

Bucky, no matter what, I will always be so, so, grateful that you're alive. I don't regret anything. Don't you, either. You've got another chance - please, live your life. Find something (or someone) to love. Find a way, for me, all right?

'Til the end of the line (I had to say it) -

Steve

Bucky reads it again, and then a third time. He realizes that his whole "safer for everyone if I just go hide out in cryo" approach may have shot them both in the foot, in a way even super soldiers may not recover from all that quickly. But for all Steve's drama, he really doesn't think Steve's sworn off Earth forever. And maybe now that Bucky's awake he can work out some kind of deal to get the price off Steve's head. Damn idiot probably had some kind of moral qualms about negotiating with a government who wanted to kill his childhood friend. Bucky doesn't have that kind of problem.

A nurse comes in to check on him, and Bucky closes his eyes, just meaning to doze. When he opens them it's the next morning, and Bruce is there, talking quietly with two doctors in colorful scrubs. Bruce is wearing the same kind of clothes he had on the day before - loose gray pants and a wrinkled white linen shirt. He looks relaxed, calm.

"Good morning," he says, coming over to Bucky's side. He starts to explain, again, what they'll be doing, and Bucky pushes down his nerves. This can't be the worst thing he's been through, not by a long shot.

Bruce pauses, his eyes widening just a little. He touches Bucky's arm, careful but firm. "Bucky?"

"Yeah?"

"This isn't going to hurt."

Bucky shrugs. "No, it's fine, I can take it, I-"

"No, I mean it. It won't hurt."

Bucky stares at him, remembering their conversation the day before about coming out of cryo. "What, you got something against pain?" Bucky asks, striving for humor.

"I do, actually."

Bruce holds his gaze for a long moment, then squeezes his arm and steps away. Bucky kind of wishes he would have stayed.

Three hours, four injections, and a bunch of stressful questions later, it's over.

"Really?" Bucky asks again. The doctors and nurses have cleared out, leaving just him and Bruce in the room.

"Really." Bruce stares at Bucky for a minute, and then pushes a button on the side of the bed. Bucky holds still as the head of the bed rises, sitting him up.

"You know," Bruce says conversationally, "there's a patio with a spectacular view on the west side of the building. I think the cafe's still open. They make a great tofu curry, if you like that kind of thing."

Bucky sits himself up further, and tries to figure out if Bruce is pulling his leg. "I don't think I've ever had tofu."

Bruce holds out his hand and steadies Bucky as he climbs out of bed. "They make other things too."

"No, I, um, want to try something new."

#bucky barnes #bruce banner #marvel #marvel fic #my fic

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waitedforgarridebs · 7 years

Note

What if the IDEA of Moriarty was just the creation of Mycroft, to ensure that his little brother would have a reason to stay alive? Mycroft is not UNDER Moriarty's thumb - Moriarty IS Mycroft' thumb! #TheEngineersThumb

THANK YOU FOR SENDING ME AN ASK WITH YOUR TAGS ON THAT POST (x) I WANTED TO REBLOG THAT !!!! You genius, Mycroft is Moriarty’s thumb, this made my day!

Ask @johnnlocked, I was yelling, and it was 4am!

And yes, I completely agree with you, Mycroft created the idea of Moriarty - but I don’t think his motive was to give Sherlock a reason to stay alive / to stay off the drugs, and since I never came around to write that post, I’ll do a short version now.

(I say “short”. It’s not short. Imagine what the long version would have looked like though, lmao)

I do believe that the government / Mycroft created the project “Moriarty”, nameless or with another codename (”Amo” / “Love”?). “Moriarty” means “navigator” or “sea-worthy”, so it could be something water-y.

Those are, after all, very “deep waters” for Sherlock…

My theory is that Sherlock discovered the very fringes of the whole Moriarty machination in TBB #it’s always TBB. And this was completely not what Mycroft wanted, Mycroft never wanted Sherlock to know about this, at all.

Because, those people are really really dangerous, and Mycroft is far from being able to control them all - at least not as in, “don’t harm my little brother”, that would completely contradict the actual purpose of Moriarty; a tool to ensure “the greater good”.

So, Mycroft wanted to focus the damage Sherlock could do to something more controllable, more limited, and that is not an entire organisation, but a single person. This is why Mycroft invented “Jim” Moriarty, and designed him in a way that he would be the perfect match for Sherlock, that he would be something Sherlock could obsess about, far away from all the actual business of Moriarty.

So far, so good. But if that plan would have worked, the whole plot of the show would have been quite boring though.

I feel like Jim very much was following his own agenda, maybe he even wanted to destroy Moriarty from within, “commit suicide”, his apparent “death wish”, because thanks to Mycroft he now was Moriarty, he was the only person who would be able to stop this project. If Jim is anything like the character he plays, he loves chaos, he loves the randomness of things, and Moriarty is the exact opposite of this. Moriarty tries to order the chaos, to control it. Very much a Mycroft-esque thing to do.

(I’m aware of the fact that all of this probably doesn’t make very much sense when you haven’t read at least this part of my meta series (x), but “Moriarty”, in my opinion, is an Orwellian project run by the goverment.)

After TST, and also looking back at the scene at the end of THoB, I think that Sir Edwin is very much in on this, he is probably Porlock. Lady Smallwood is quite clueless, and honestly, I can’t wait to see her kick everyone’s asses for this, but I’m getting off-topic…

Back to Jim.

The introduction of the character “Jim Moriarty”, in combination with Irene, is the downfall of the Moriarty project. Irene gives Jim the information he needs to turn the tables.

“Bond Air” is Mycroft’s “Skyfall”.

Therefore, even if Mycroft tried to keep Sherlock save and the Moriarty project alive at the same time, there was no way this could ever have worked out. And it was the Moriarty project that had to die, because after the failed Bond Air project, it had already been kind of dead.

It would’t take long for the terrorists to figure out that someone had played this game with them. That the British government had been trying to fool them in this way. Oh my, that would have had serious consequences.

That is why Moriarty had to die. But one also had to ensure that no one would be able to link all those events to who actually had committed them, the British government, because this was exactly the reason why they had to kill Moriarty in the first place, to not have anything that would lead back to them.

Nobody knew up to this point that Moriarty was a thing though. Except some criminals, and they would keep their mouth very much shut about this.

Cue: TRF.

Jim was actively advertising in this episode. And this not because he needed clients, or the money, that was never what he was doing all of this for.

They. Told. Us. All. Of. This.

It was important that the world got to know Jim Moriarty. The master criminal. The person who had committed so many crimes, who was apparently so powerful - and in all of that, Sherlock Holmes was helping.

Up to this point, Sherlock was the only person to ever have seen Jim Moriarty’s face - because, Moriarty itself has no face! - and now Sherlock was telling the world, hey, this is him, James Moriarty, the Napoleon of crime. I am the great Sherlock Holmes, you better believe me, this man is my worst nightmare, he tried to blow me up.

And, just before that, Jim had broken into the three most secure places of the country. Sherlock was only confirming to the public what the press had already been telling them, like, trying to steal the Crown Juwels, ermahgerddddd, arrest this man!

So, not only had Jim been able to show off his skillz, but also had he been able to link the name “Moriarty” permanently to his face.

He does all that, and then commits suicide. Welp. Not very clever?

Except this was what all of this had been for.

Now, Moriarty, the potential traitor, was dead. No need to take revenge on a dead person. And the link to the British government was gone, too. Sherlock Holmes was on vacation, so they had a lot of time of peace and quiet to get the project running again.

Oh yes. Moriarty is dead, long lives Moriarty.

Or (Lord) Moran.

The government didn’t stop doing what they were doing, this whole business was much too promising for that. They just had to carry their coups out in a different way - they have a lot of talented people working there, after all.

And if that meant that Sherlock Holmes had to come back from the dead only to actuate the off-switch on a bomb in order to prevent a terrorist attack that no one ever actually wanted to carry out, that was just meant to frighten people into agreeing with the introduction of an anti-terrorism bill, well. (x)

Which makes me think…

SHERLOCK: […] Tomorrow the US president will be at the embassy as part of an official state visit. As the president greets members of staff, Greta Bengtsdotter, disguised as a twenty-two stone cleaner, will inject the president in the back of the neck with a dangerous new drug hidden inside a secret compartment inside her padded armpit. This drug will then render the president entirely susceptible to the will of their new master, none other than James Moriarty. KINGSLEY: What?!SHERLOCK (quick fire): Moriarty will then use the president as a pawn to destabilise the United Nations General Assembly which is due to vote on a nuclear non-proliferation treaty, tipping the balance in favour of a first strike policy against Russia. This chain of events will then prove unstoppable, thus precipitating … (he finally slows down and says the next words slowly and precisely) World War Three. (x)

I guess we should watch out for hints at that treaty in the upcoming episodes…?

ANYWAY.

Mycroft introduced Jim into Sherlock’s life. Mycroft planted the idea that Moriarty is a person in Sherlock’s head, the only person who could ever be an equal or worthy opponent for Sherlock.

And Sherlock believes it.

Sherlock believes that Jim, even if he hadn’t been able to fake his death, would have been able to set up a plan that would take effect after his death, only to continue their little game.

(^balance of probability, Sherlock, why do you even think that. I am so disappointed, honestly. YOU were able to fake your death, and you really think Jim wouldn’t have been able to do the same, and this just because of your gay fever dream, INSTEAD you really believe he would have been able to set up something like- oh my god make it stop)

And I really think that only in TST, Mycroft is beginning to realise what he really has done there. His brother is obsessed with Moriarty, despite the fact that he isn’t even alive anymore.

Yes, the plan to distract Sherlock is kind of working, he doesn’t see what is actually going on, that Mycroft is the source of all of this, but at what cost? Is Sherlock gonna get insane because Moriarty will continue to not get in touch, and this additionally to all the guilt that must be nagging at him now because of that whole Mary-business?

I can really see why he’s gonna be back on drugs tonight… no case and no John, oh my.

#crack the final case #Sherlock #Sherlock meta #meductions #Mykey #MyH #JM #TST #TLD #answered #thechristmasrapture

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get-a-new-lease-on-life · 6 years

Text

A New Lease on Life - Prologue

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Prologue

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Amber O'Brien died with one regret: she never found love worth living for. Then she woke up in another world, on April’s sofa, with a big fat purple dragon tattoo in her cleavage and a major ‘dying’ hangover. Stuck with PTSD and in a body not her own, she searches for answers and strength. Things are rarely what they seem, and love never comes easy. Slow burn, multipart, Donnie/OC-centric, NOT self-insert.

So…this has already been uploaded on FFnet and AO3 for quite some time now, but I haven’t uploaded much of it to Tumblr yet. Thinking I may need to fix that. Currently, the story’s nearing the end of Part III so you’ve got a ways to read before running out and having to wait for updates - sweet, right? I’ll be queuing the finished chapters for automatic posting, but please be patient with me while I work out the formatting differences for this site.

Just a quick note before beginning the chapter: Main pairings are Donatello/OC and Raphael/OC, and minor canon pairings are Leonardo/OC and Michelangelo/OC. The story starts off a bit slow but once you’ve gotten past the setup chapters - I believe the first five or so…? - it picks up steadily. If you enjoy this story, feel free to reblog, comment, whatever you want - it really makes my day.

TRIGGER WARNING: Panic attacks.

Check out the official “A New Lease on Life, Part I” Playlist!

Suggested Listening: The Rasmus “In the Shadows”

Begin PART I: Time to Burn

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Prologue

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New York City, January 27th, 2016

“Don’t even think about it, Mikey.” Right on cue, a loud splash sounded some distance down the tunnel, followed by Raphael sputtering angrily. Donatello smiled despite himself, certain water balloons had been involved. As the two troublemakers wrestled in the gravel and debris lining the empty rail bed, Leonardo approached the brother silently studying a map projected over his arm.

“Where does he hide those, anyway?” Leo joked as he fell into step beside him. “I could’ve sworn he used the last one up three tunnels back.”

“Apparently not,” Don replied, scanning the walls for telltale signs that they were on the right path. Familiar graffiti and discreet markings in the concrete were as useful as any map when you knew the tunnels like they did. “At least he’s occupied, right? We’re almost there anyway.”

“This is it,” he remarked as they neared their turnoff. The City Hall subway station had been long abandoned but was always a sight to see. As his brothers crept along silently behind him, he inched up the corridor, scouting for heat sources with his goggles. As he’d expected, it was completely vacant.

“So,” Mikey asked brightly. “If the coast is clear, can we go home now? I don’t wanna miss Glee.” With a wary cringe, Raph edged away mumbling under his breath about something being contagious.

“Not yet, Mikey,” Leo answered. “Not 'til Donnie figures out what set the systems off.” With a mumbled 'Bummer,’ Mikey slumped over to the breakerbox on a nearby wall and switched on the lights. Dim yellowed light flooded the once beautiful room, Green and ivory tile gleaming beneath years of filth. Don hastened to a bronze placard to inspect the hidden security camera he’d installed there years before. With a loose brick removed, the answer was clear.

“Mystery solved,” he remarked dryly when a few wires fell out completely. Damaged, disconnected output wires couldn’t transmit video. He deftly repaired the connection with practiced ease; if the camera picked up anything, he’d be able to see it when they returned.

“Uh…guys?” Leo ground out, backing away from a rubbish heap in the corner. “We’ve got company!” Three pairs of eyes snapped to the shifting garbage, and Donatello realized his heat sensors missed something. A body lay curled up in the rubbish pile shivering violently. The other three hung back nervously as he hurried to the person’s side running health diagnostics on them the whole way. The woman was scantily clothed, only a few degrees from hypothermia, and from the looks of it, halfway unconscious…and strangely familiar, though he shoved that thought away.

“Not good,” Donnie exclaimed as he dug through his pack for his medkit and the foiled emergency blanket. “She must’ve wandered in last night, setting off the alarms! With that little clothing on, she’s lucky she didn’t freeze to death!” The telltale rumble of a passing train sounded nearby as he wrapped her tightly in the foil-lined blanket, and everything went to Heck in a handbasket. Without warning her eyes flew wide open and terrified screams shattered the air; unseeing moss green eyes stared up at the intricately tiled ceiling as she scrambled out of the blanket and back to her corner. Still shrieking and sobbing she fell to her side in a fetal position, clutching her hands over her neck and shaking violently.

“Well, dere ya go, Donnie,” Raph grumbled. “Junkie on a bad trip set off ya sensors.” He cringed as yet another terrified wail ripped from her lungs. Donatello shook his head emphatically as he yanked his goggles back up.

“No, she’s clean!” he protested at top speed as he dug through his bag again. “I’m not picking up even traces of anything—alcohol, heroin, marijuana, not even tobacco!—her heartrate’s through the roof and her adrenaline levels are spiking rapidly! Leo, hold her down!” While Leo and Mikey restrained the thrashing woman screeching unintelligibly, Don injected a sedative into her bare arm. Bit by bit her cries turned to groans and sobs; bit by bit, she fell limp in their grip.

Finally, all was still. A quick scan told Don her vitals were returning to normal and the fit had raised her core temperature a little. If the sensors had been set off by fits like that one, he supposed, it explained how she’d survived the cold night. Despite himself he brushed a lock of bright red hair away from her closed eyes; it was dyed, of course, and he couldn’t help wondering what the natural color was. Silently reminding himself of his task he wrapped her up again and hoisted her into his arms; across the chamber, Raph startled.

“Wait a sec,” he muttered stalking over. “I seen'er before…she—”

“—needs help,” Leo cut him off, retrieving her glasses from the rubbish heap. “Regardless of who or what she is, we can’t just leave her down here. It’s January—she’ll freeze to death!” As the two butted heads, Don shifted her to his shoulder in a fireman’s carry and dug out his phone. After all, April had never refused to help them, yet.

Prologue chapter is short. Rest of them? NOT short, averaging 7-12 pages apiece. Consider the short chap an appetizer.

UP NEXT: Amber or Kimber?

Chapter List

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