#They already have some pretty incredible identity issues just throw being pieces of him in every sense into the mix | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nugnthopkns · 3 years

Text

whatcha say we just get away?

word count: 6.5k

warnings: explicit fem!reader, marriage, cursing, fleeting mention of future children, some kinda cheesy wedding tropes

recommended listening: side effects | jade bird

a/n: the idea of a big wedding scares the living daylights out of me so i wrote about eloping with tk :))

When Travis asks you to marry him, you think he’s joking.

The two of you are standing in the kitchen piecing together lunch. It’s a sunny Tuesday in Port Stanley, and Travis wants to take you out on the boat this afternoon.

“What if we got married?” he says casually, putting the finishing touches on his sandwich.

You shrug it off and continue chopping vegetables. “You’re hilarious. Got an upcoming audition with SNL?”

Travis doesn’t seem to like your response. He bumps your shoulder gently. “I’m serious.”

“This isn’t a joke?” you ask, setting down the knife and turning to face him. “You want to marry me?”

He nods and rests his hands on your hips. “I’m absolutely positive. Will you marry me?”

No words come from your open mouth. Not wanting him to think you’re saying no, you nod your head vigorously. Travis’s laugh echoes off the small kitchen, bringing you back to earth slightly. His right thumb rubs comforting circles on your hip bone. Overcome with love for Travis, you curl your arms around his neck and pull him down to meet your lips.

The kiss is passionate but incredibly soft. You both hold so much love for each other and do your best to convey it in the small gesture. Time passes you by, but you don’t mind. If you could kiss Travis forever you would. Eventually he pulls away for air but doesn’t let you go. Resting his forehead on yours he asks another question. “Is that a yes?”

You find your voice. “Of course you idiot!”

His smile lights up his entire face and it makes him look much too young to be betrothed. You suppose he is, that you both are – under twenty-five with your whole lives in front of you. However, you know that Travis is it for you. No one compliments you like he does, and no one ever will. Travis loves you wholly and without hesitation, and you hope he can see you feel the exact same way.

“Fuck,” Travis groans, and it makes you arch your brow. “I don’t have a ring,” he explains. “I didn’t think I’d get the balls to suggest it or that you would say yes.”

A laugh bubbles over your lips as you shake your head. “I could care less baby,” you insist. “We don’t need rings to show how much we love each other.”

The two of you stand in the kitchen a while longer, kissing languidly and basking in the deeper level of love that comes with devoting your lives to one another. Lunch is long forgotten as you get ready for your afternoon adventure, but you remember to grab it on your way out the door. The drive to the water is almost identical to every single other time, spent singing along to the radio and laughing at the terrible impressions Travis tries to orchestrate, except this time your smiles are brighter and the sideways glances are sweeter.

For being a beautiful day in a community of mostly retired people, the waters of Lake Erie are scarcely populated. The two of you essentially have the kilometres of coastline to yourselves, which feels like a sign from the universe to enjoy the newest honeymoon phase of your relationship. It’s so nice to spend an abundance of time with Travis in the summers, and it almost makes up for all the time you spend alone throughout the winter months. You let him navigate the boat wherever he wants, laying across one of the plush leather benches with your eyes closed. Occasionally, when Travis hits a wave a little too head on, water sprays gently over your face but you don’t mind. Truthfully, it offers a short respite from the heat of the sun’s rays.

While you lounge your mind begins to wander to what your wedding will look like. Large crowds have always made you uneasy – you aren’t like Travis in that regard, able to feel comfortable in whatever environment you may be placed in. The idea of a small wedding is nice, but the two of you know too many people and pointedly not inviting a large number of them fills you with anxiety. Feelings would get hurt, people upset they can’t fight for a minute of your big day, and you’ve heard horror stories about wedding guest lists ending friendships. You also know your mother will want to have input in almost every decision, from bridesmaids dresses to cake flavours, and that’s not something you’re sure you can handle. Suddenly marrying Travis is a lot scarier a concept.

You realize that these are ridiculous thoughts to be having. You got engaged less than three hours ago – there’s no reason for you to immediately start planning the event. For Christ’s sake, you don’t even have a ring yet. Regardless, your mind replays your fears on a constant loop. All you can do to quell the storm in your mind is sit and focus on the taut muscles of Travis’s shoulder blades.

“Now that we’re engaged you’re just going to ignore me?” Travis jokes, dropping the anchor and making his way over to you. He had pulled into a small bay, mostly out of view from the public and hard to find, so the two of you could swim and enjoy each other’s company in peace.

You shoot him a pointed look, and he immediately understands there’s something lying beneath the surface.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

It’s stupid to be stressing over thing so soon, but you can’t stop. You wonder if you’re even going to be able to go through with the wedding seeing you’re already so worked up about it. Travis kneels in front of you, hand on your knee as his eyes meet yours through two pairs of sunglasses. “No judgement here sweetheart. Say whatever’s on your mind.”

You know he’s being sincere. There’s never any judgement from Travis. No matter how dumb a statement or how terrible a fashion choice he never thinks any less of you. “I was just thinking, well overthinking, about the wedding,” you mumble. “And I know it’s stupid because we have nothing planned and don’t have rings but I can’t stop myself from stressing over it. I legitimately don’t know if I can plan a wedding.”

“That’s quite possibly the farthest thing from stupid,” he insists. “It’s a valid thing to be worried about. Honestly, I don’t know if I want to take the heat for not doing things the way others think they should be done. But we have so much time to figure everything out.” Travis pushes himself off the ground and slides into the seat beside you. He wraps an arm around your shoulders and places a peck to the crown of your head.

“I think that’s part of the issue Trav. We won’t get married until next summer, which is fine, but I’m going to have so much time to overthink every single decision.”

Travis doesn’t respond verbally. Instead, he grasps your left hand in his and raises it to his lips. The kiss he presses to your ring finger, where the engagement ring would be if you had one, sends shivers down your spine. It’s a simple gesture, sweet and to the point, but it grounds you. No matter what happens, the two of you will face it together hand in hand.

The water is cold when you eventually get in, but it’s refreshing and allows you to relax. You do more floating than serious swimming, watching as Travis swims laps around the small area you’ve claimed as your own. “Can’t even take a break from training now that we’re engaged?” you ask, throwing him the same jab he gave hours ago.

“Gotta stay fit for the big day,” he pants, obviously tired from trying to up his endurance level. “Holy fuck, I’ve swam nearly three kilometres since we got in.”

You’re wickedly impressed and have half a mind to challenge him to keep going, to see how far he can go, but you can tell his energy is fading. Pretty soon he’ll be ready to fall asleep and you can’t drive the boat. Not wanting to be stuck on the lake overnight, you speak. “Let’s get you home there cowboy. I’ll drive once you park this damn boat.”

The rest of the night is quiet. Once back on dry land, you take control of the reins, jumping into the driver’s seat before Travis can protest. You stop to pick up dinner from a small pizzeria on the main street before continuing to the modest cottage you call home in the summer months. It’s all Travis can do to keep his eyes open on the ride home, and as soon as he finishes his pizza he’s asleep on the couch, head resting heavy in your lap.

You card your fingers through his hair, scratching lightly at the scalp as you read your book. While you were in school you didn’t have much time to read for pleasure, so since graduating you’ve been trying to catch up. You graduated nearly two years ago and still haven’t made it through your to be read shelf, but it isn’t for lack of trying. It seems that new books constantly find a home there and the three books a months you average isn’t cutting it. Maybe one day when you retire you’ll be able to make a serious dent.

It’s silent while Travis sleeps, but you find it comforting. There’s nothing to distract you from the fictional world playing out on the pages, and you lose the anxieties you’ve felt simmering since thinking about your very distant wedding. When Travis wakes up an hour later you’ve finished your book and are staring at the ceiling.

“You could have gotten up to grab another,” Travis murmurs, voice laced with sleep.

You shrug. “Didn’t want to wake you. Plus I just wanted to think about some things, how I want to tackle the next year.”

Travis frowns, and you can tell he’s regretting asking the question because you’re so obviously worked up.

“I know what you’re thinking, babe,” you say to comfort him. “And you’re wrong. There’s nothing I want more in the world than to marry you. I just didn’t realize how hard it was going to be to do things without pissing off half the people we want to invite.”

You slowly peel away from him, holding out a hand and smiling when he takes it. The two of you retire to your bedroom, and get ready in silence. You know Travis is still mulling things over, and quite honestly, you are too. Preparing to get married, no matter how far away the day might be, is a lot. After brushing your teeth and washing your face you settle into Travis’s open arms, tracing over the tattoos that call his bicep home. Travis unwinds in his own way, twirling a lock of your hair around his index finger.

“What if we eloped?”

This question is as sudden as when he asked you to marry him in the first place. Your hand halts its actions immediately, moving to his chest so you can push yourself up to look at him. “You’re serious?”

He nods enthusiastically, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Dead serious. I know you’ve never wanted a big wedding,” he says. That much is true. You’ve never enjoyed being the center of attention, and the idea of more than twenty people watching your every move has you freaking out. “You’re so stressed already about pleasing everyone that I’m worried you won’t be able to enjoy it when the day actually comes. And to be quite frank, I could give less of a shit about the ceremony or reception. All I want to do is marry you because I love you. So let’s get rid of the things we think we have to do and just do it our own way.”

A single tear slides down your cheek. You can’t help it – you’re so relieved he’s willing to do whatever would make you the most comfortable, even if it means sacrificing something as important as a proper wedding. “That would be perfect.”

Travis kisses you for what might be the millionth time today but you do not care. His lips are soft against yours and make you feel safe and warm. Nothing goes too far as you’re both just enjoying the thought of such a special moment being between just the two of you.

“I was also thinking we could do it this week,” he says casually, as if no work has to go into this because you’re eloping.

You sit up immediately. “Pardon?” you ask shocked. “Trav, just because we aren’t going to have a wedding doesn’t mean we can just do it whenever we please. We need to get a marriage license and make an appointment at the courthouse.”

“It’s the middle of summer and we live in an area where the youngest people other than us are like fifty, I think things will come together pretty quickly.”

It’s hard for you to argue with his logic. Travis has a point – the chances of other people trying to get married in the next few days is very slim. The idea doesn’t sound horrible either, getting to marry the love of your life as soon as possible. You agree to look into things in the morning and fall asleep curled into Travis’s chest, his arms secure around you.

Wanting to get married within the week turns out not to be a problem. After Travis completes his morning workout the two of you travel the short distance to the courthouse to get a marriage license. It’s incredibly easy, each of you only needing to provide two pieces of identification, and while you’re there you pick a time slot for your civil service. You’ll be back at the building in two days, next time walking out as a married couple.

“See, it was so easy,” Travis says, bumping your hip with his own on the way back to the truck.

“Fuck off,” you grumble. No matter how hard you try you can’t find it within yourself to be mad at him. You’re incredibly excited, and are actually glad you don’t have to wait very long. It would have been a pain to wait a whole twelve months.

The next order of business in ‘planning’ your wedding is finding two witnesses. You would have had no problem asking Travis’s parents, but they’re currently on a vacation to the east coast. The idea of phoning your mother and asking her to book a flight to attend a wedding she didn’t get a say in makes you nauseous, so it’s completely out of the question. Port Stanley might be small, but you and Travis are only there a few months out of the year and don’t know anyone besides your next door neighbours. Mr. and Mrs. Stevenson are an adorable eldery couple you invite over for dinner every week.

Travis agrees that you should include them, and as soon as you get home the two of you are knocking on their door, pitcher of lemonade in hand.

“Oh hello dears,” Mrs. Stevenson coos. “This is such a nice surprise. Richard is out on the back patio, come join us.”

You smile at the older lady and follow her through the modest cottage. The walls are covered in photos from family trips and graduations – you hope one day you and Travis’s will look the same. Once in the backyard the four of you settle into comfortable conversation, sipping lemonade and enjoying the sunshine. Ever the hockey fan, Mr. Stevenson asks Travis about the upcoming season, and they chat while you rise to help bring snacks to the small table.

After a while, the conversations lull and Travis is able to bring up what you came over for. “Do you guys have any plans for Friday morning?” he asks casually, popping a slice of red pepper into his mouth.

“Not that I can think of,” Mr. Stevenson says. “Can you think of anything Dottie?”

His wife shakes her head. “Nothing comes to mind. What’s the matter?”

Suddenly you’re nervous, and entwine your fingers with Travis’s to ground yourself. He squeezes gently, a gesture of encouragement that has you able to find your voice. “We were wondering if you could do us a favour,” you begin, “And be the witnesses at our wedding? We have an appointment at the courthouse at eleven-thirty.”

It’s silent, and you’re petrified they’re going to say no. You turn to look at Travis, who looks just as apprehensive as you. His grip on your hand tightens and all you can do is wait for a response.

“We would be honoured,” they exclaim at the same time, and you let go of a breath you didn’t realize you were holding in. It’s settled – you have all the components for the paperwork, which means you can legitimately and legally get married. You’re absolutely giddy.

The questions come then – when did Travis ask you, how are you going to tell your families, what does your ring look like – and when you quietly say that you don’t have one Mrs. Stevenson jumps out of her seat.

“Oh child, that simply won’t do!”

You’re quick to your own defence. “It’s truly fine Mrs. Stevenson –”

“You can just call me Dottie dear.”

“Dottie,” you say, her first name rolling uncomfortably off your tongue. It will definitely take some getting used to. “I told Trav I didn’t need a ring. Being married to him is enough.” You smile in his direction and Travis returns the look with ease.

Not caring, the elderly lady heads into the small cottage, saying she has something that would work perfectly. Mr. Stevenson rolls his eyes and apologizes for his wife’s antics, but you insist it’s okay. She returns a minute later with quite possibly the prettiest ring you’ve ever seen. Attached to a thin gold band is a deep green emerald. The stone isn’t obnoxiously large, possibly even on the smaller side, and is completely your style. No other gems accompany it, letting the emerald take center stage.

“Wow,” you breathe. “It’s stunning.”

Travis leans over your shoulder to get a look and lets out a short whistle. “Totally you babe,” he chimes in.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Mr. Steveson shouts in encouragement. “Put it on her young man!”

You let loose a laugh, and soon the others join in. Travis takes it at Dottie’s insistence and places it gingerly on your finger. It’s a perfect fit, and you can’t help but let a few tears escape. Your eyes meet Travis’s and you see he’s trying to hold back tears, but is failing miserably. Overcome with emotion, you lean forward and press your lips to his. The kiss is sweet, but still all-consuming. Travis’s hands reach up to cup your face, continuing the exchange for probably longer than appropriate in public. The Stevensons coo gently in the background, having a conversation between themselves about how adorable you both are. You don’t hear them though, too wrapped up in Travis and the fact that everything feels like it has fallen into place.

After having a small argument about whether or not you can actually accept the ring, at which both Stevensons insist you should keep it, you help set the table for dinner. The meal is quite enjoyable, and you clean up despite the protests from Dottie. Once everything is squared away you and Travis go to make your exit. You hadn’t meant to intrude on their night, but you’re glad you did. On your way out the door, Mr. Stevenson, who followed his wife in demanding you call him by his first name, slips a small bag into Travis’s hand.

“Found these in our jewelry box. I think you might want them,” he winks, smiling softly before shooing you off with a loving tone with a promise to see you on Friday.

Peaking inside the bag once inside the safety of your own home, you pull out two delicate gold bands, one that looks about your size and one that matches Travis’s. It’s clear they’re meant to be your wedding bands, and you’re once again overcome with emotion. What did you do to deserve such kind neighbours?

Your night, and the day that follows are quiet. For the most part you go about your normal routine, puttering around while waiting for Travis to finish his workout and a meeting he has with the Flyers front office. He packs a lunch while you answer a call from your boss, who has a question about when you’ll be returning to Philadelphia. She chats with you for a while, catching up on all your summer adventures. You make sure to conceal your enagement, not wanting all of Philly to fin out before your families. Though you love your boss, she’s not well known for keeping secrets. Once all your affairs are finished, the two of you lock the front door and head to the lake.

“Where you taking me today cowboy?” you giggle as Travis steers the boat out of the marina.

He tips his hat at the nickname and speaks slowly, trying to mimic a southern accent a la John Wayne. “Gotta keep it a surprise darlin’,” he drawls. A laugh punctuates his sentence, and Travis can’t keep the charade up any longer. “I actually don’t have a destination. Thought we could just cruise around.”

It’s a good enough plan for you, and you sit close by while the pair of you travel the coast. The sun glistens off the top of the calm water while you float and your eyes grow heavy for the warmth. You indulge them, allowing them to flutter shut.

“You’re literally the worst company ever,” Travis grumbles as soon as he notices your resting figure.

Not bothering to open your eyes you shoot him the finger. “Fuck off, you’re the one who wants to marry me.”

“Damn straight.”

Despite being ‘terrible company’, Travis doesn’t try too hard to get away from you. Eventually he anchors the boat in a small cove and the pair of you spend a few hours swimming and soaking up the sun’s rays. Just existing like this, with Travis, is enough to calm any nerves you might have about tomorrow. Though it will be a low-key affair and no one will be in attendance, getting married is a huge deal. You would be more alarmed if you didn’t have any anxieties.

It’s dusk when you secure the boat in its slip and hop in the truck to return home. The wind coming off the water sends shivers down your spine, though you do your best to hide it. Travis notices, however, and slips the hoodie he was sporting over shoulders.

“Thanks,” you murmur appreciatively. He doesn’t respond, just shoots you a wide grin.

The many hours spent in the sun have tired you out, and as soon as you’re inside you bolt towards the bed. You don’t even bother to change before slipping under the covers. When Travis appears in the room a few minutes later, he laughs at the sight of you with the duvet pulled up to your chin.

He lies directly on top of you, and you shift slightly to accommodate the added weight. The room is silent save for your breathing, and it’s peaceful. You’re looking forward to spending the rest of your life like this.

“We have to go brush our teeth,” Travis murmurs into the crook of your neck, punctuating his words with sweet kisses.

The noise that leaves your throat is one of strangled protest. “But I’m really comfy,” you groan. “Besides I can’t get up with you on top of me.”

“Touché.” He slowly separates his form from yours and extends a hand to help you up. “You still have to get up. I don’t want to marry someone with bad breath.”

You stick your tongue out at him in response, but grab his hand and allow him to drag you to the bathroom. What unfolds next is straight out of Bring It On. The two of you brush your teeth in silence, occasionally making faces at each other in the mirror. Travis grins at you, mouth full of toothpaste, and you can’t help but laugh.

“Stop laughing!” he shouts after spitting into the sink. Nimble fingers find your sides, and before you can process what’s happening he’s digging them into you.

In an attempt to squirm out of his grasp and run away, you miss the sink rather ungracefully. Toothpaste dots the bathroom counter, but it’s the least of your worries. It will take two seconds to clean up once Travis isn’t hellbent on tickling you to death. You break free of his hold and dart down the hall away from him.

Travis rolls his eyes before grabbing a cloth to wipe away the remains of your desperate getway. When he enters the bedroom again you’re grabbing a faded 67’s tshirt to pull over head. He waits until you’re finished before wrapping his arms around your middle, no intentions of acting childish this time. You lean into his touch and he rests his chin comfortably on your shoulder. The two of you stand there for a while, swaying gently and thinking about the morning. Eventually Travis breaks away, leaving you to finish getting ready for bed, but not before placing a kiss to the nape of your neck.

“I can’t believe we’re going to be married by lunchtime tomorrow,” you sigh as Travis climbs into bed beside you and flicks off the lamp on his bedside table.

“It’s fucking insane, eh?”

Your lips turn into a smile, because it is in fact insane. Two days ago you were content just being with Travis and now in less than fourteen hours you’ll be his wife. Although the change is sudden, it feels right – to no other person would you want to get married. Travis is it.

He shuffles closer to close the gap between you. His hand travels to your hair, twirling it around his finger, and you rest your head on his chest. Your eyes flutter shut but you make no attempt to keep them open. A long night of rest will be useful in helping to quell your nerves in the morning.

“Sweet dreams Trav,” you mumble into the darkness.

You swear you can hear the smile in his voice when he responds, “Night sweetheart.”

When you awake the next morning Travis’s arms are still tightly wrapped around you. You had assumed he’d be up earlier than normal, making sure to get a good run in before returning to get ready. Instead, his head is buried in your hair and he’s snoring softly. A quick glance at your alarm clock tells you it’s time to get up unless you want to run the risk of running late to your own wedding.

“Trav,” you whisper softly, rolling over in his grasp. “We’ve gotta get up.” When you don’t get a response, you lightly trace the outline of his nose and speak a little louder. “Babe, we’re going to be late if we don’t get our asses in gear.”

Travis shoots up at the mention of your wedding, clearly excited. “Good morning soon-to-be Mrs. Konecny,” he says before making a disgusted face. “Forget I ever said that. Totally not our style.”

You can’t help but giggle and agree. Cheesy gestures of affection have never really been your thing, and it feels strange to try it out now. You peck Travis’s cheek quickly before pushing off the covers and heading to the bathroom. After grabbing a towel from the small linen rack in the corner you turn the water on and undress. Travis walks by the open door and whistles, so you laugh and flip him off before letting yourself be enveloped by the water.

The steam helps to relieve the tension in your shoulders you didn’t know was there. You suppose it’s just natural for you to be slightly anxious – even though practically nothing can go wrong a thousand what-ifs float around your mind. Going about your typical shower routine helps calm you down and take your mind off things, and when you step out of the bathroom most of your nerves have been replaced with sheer excitement.

Not wanting to get into the white sundress you decided to wear until you’re practically out the door, you slip into lounge clothes and go to join Travis in the kitchen. He’s munching away on a bowl of cereal but slides a cup of coffee across the counter for you. It’s made just the way you like it, of course, and you offer a quick thanks. When you move around to the other side of the island to make a bagel, you bump your hip against his. It’s quiet in the room, both of you in your heads as you picture what it will be like to say ‘I do’, but it’s nice. You eat in silence, and then it’s Travis’s turn to shower while you clean up the few dishes that were dirtied during breakfast.

After everything is squared away you go to finish getting ready. It’s warm, over twenty-five degrees, so you decide to pull your hair into a simple updo to keep it out of your face. Though no one will be there to judge you, you still want to look the tiniest bit put together. Your makeup consists of sunscreen and lip balm, knowing that Travis wants to spend the afternoon on the water. Besides, it’s so hot you’d be uncomfortable in anything else. With nothing to do but sit and wait for Travis to be ready, you turn your attention to the ring on your left hand, soon to be accompanied by another.

The emerald glistens as you twist the ring from side to side and you make a mental note to once again thank Mrs. Stevenson for giving it to you. Your thoughts are disrupted by Travis asking you a question.

“Are you going to kill me if I wear shorts?”

“As long as they aren’t track shorts you’re fine,” you shrug. “It’s fucking hot out.”

He arches his brow. “So I can wear the camo ones?”

“If you really want to Trav.”

Travis does not, in fact, wear the camo ones, but a respectable khaki pair. He also rolls the sleeves of his button down up to try and combat the heat. It’s a good look, and you make sure to tell him so. The compliments return ten-fold and you can’t help but blush. Even after so many years together Travis still knows how to give you butterflies.

“Zip me up?” you ask, spinning around so your back is to him.

He nods and carefully tugs the zipper along your spine to secure the fabric. Once finished, Tavis rests his hands on your hips and turns you to face him. He rests his forehead against yours and looks at you with the most love filled expression you’ve ever seen.

“I love you,” he whispers.

You smile and press closer to him, mumbling against his lips. “I love you too.”

The kiss you share is soft and warm. Like so many others you’ve shared, it makes you feel whole. Kissing Travis is the one time you feel like you’re right where you’re supposed to be. Time seems to slow down, and truthfully you don’t know how long you spend kissing Travis in the middle of your bedroom. It’s long enough that you have to rush out the door, almost forgetting the rings in the shuffle.

Even though you insisted you had no problem driving the four of you to the courthouse, the Stevensons insist on taking their own vehicle. “We having some shopping to do,” Mr. Stevenson explains, “And you won’t want to hang two old folks just after getting married! It’s the time to be young and in love.”

You can’t convince them to join you in Travis’s truck no matter how hard you try. The two of you eventually let them have their way and wave as you back out of the driveway with them to follow you shortly. The drive is quiet, like so many other moments this morning, and the closer the clock gets to your appointment time, the antsier you get. You just want to get it over with and finally be married to Travis.

“Babe, you’re gonna wear a hole in the floorboard from bouncing your foot so much,” Travis laughs. His hand leaves the steering wheel to rest just above your knee, effectively stopping your movement.

“Just excited,” you say honestly. “And nervous.”

Travis’s thumb rubs comforting circles on your bare skin as he speaks. “Me too. But I know that no matter what everything will be perfect because I love you and you love me and that’s all that matters.”

Before you know it you’re pulling into a parking spot and waiting for your witnesses to arrive. They must have got caught at a red light because they join you a few minutes later. There’s still a bit of time until you’re set to face the judge, but the four of you head inside anyways. Your fingers are laced tightly with Travis’s and you practically cling to him but no one says anything. After alerting reception to your presence you pace the hallway outside the courtroom.

Nothing about this is traditional, but Dottie still ushers you away from your husband-to-be in order to give you a little pep talk. As you’re being ushered around the corner you see Mr. Stevenson doing something similar with Travis.

“Don’t worry about him dear, Richard will make sure he doesn’t flee. Though I know he’d never think about it,” she says. “He’s good for you, and you’re good for him.”

You smile at her statement. The two of you really are meant for each other. Dottie talks a bit more, hyping you up and giving you some advice for married life. You rejoin the boys just before the group is called.

“The Konecnys? Judge Holloway is ready for you.”

Butterflies flutter in your stomach upon hearing the name that will be yours in a matter of minutes. You all follow the official into the chamber and wait for further instruction.

“I do believe congratulations are in order,” the judge says. Applause comes from the Stevensons, and you press your face into Travis’s shoulder, embarrassed. “I’m Judge Holloway, and I’ll be performing the ceremony today. Before we get started, are there any objections?”

Both you and Travis shake your head. “No,” you enunciate in unison.

“Perfect. I just need the marriage license and then we’ll be good to go.”

Travis hands the official document over, and the judge does some preliminary signing to make the aftermath a bit easier. While you wait you can’t stop smiling at Travis – not that you’d rather be doing anything else. Since this is a justice of the peace ceremony no religious elements are included, which you’re thankful for. Neither you nor Travis had time to write your own vows but had agreed to share them privately at a later date. Everything happening in the present was strictly legal and made the process quite speedy.

“Alright, now that the technicalities are out of the way we can get to the fun stuff.”

The comment makes you laugh. Though hearing the legalities of marriage was slightly mind-numbing, you’d call everything that’s happened so far fun. Perhaps that’s only because you’re the one getting married.

“Y/N,” the judge says. “Do you accept Travis as your lawfully wedded spouse?”

“I do.” You’ve never been more sure of anything in your life.

Then it’s Travis’s turn, and he’s spitting the words out before the officiant can finish the sentence. “I do.”

Laughter bounces off the walls at his eagerness. You shake your head and remember to tease him about it later. He just shoots you a wink.

Judge Holloway looks into your small crowd. “I imagine one of you has the rings?”

Travis fishes around in his pocket and pulls out the drawstring back they’re being held in. The judge nods in approval. “Place the ring on the third finger of your partner’s left hand and repeat after me. This ring signifies my devotion to you, and shall serve as a reminder that I will cherish you forever.”

Both of you repeat the words, and both tear up when placing the rings. They flow freely down your cheeks, and Travis wipes them away with his thumb.

“I think I know what comes next,” he whispers to you.

Taking the opportunity to tease him a little bit, you nudge his shoulder. “Oh yeah? Think you’ve had enough practice?”

“Guess we’ll just have to find out.”

You turn your attention back to the judge, who speaks once again. “By the power vested in me by the Marriage Act, I do hereby pronounce Travis and Y/N to be married.”

Once again, applause rings out, and you can’t help but giggle against Travis’s lips as he pulls you in for a kiss to ‘seal the deal’. It’s earth-shattering, your first kiss as husband and wife, and you can’t help but deepen it by wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him even closer. When you break apart neither of you can stop smiling.

Your party signs along the dotted line of the marriage certificate and you accept the well wishes of the judge before exiting the room. In the hallway the Stevensons envelope you both in a giant hug. “Thank you both for being here,” you say, voice watery. You haven’t stopped crying since you got to sign your last name as Konecny for the first time.

“We’re incredibly honoured you chose us,” Dottie exclaims, grasping your hands to let you know just how much it meant to her. Her husband nods in agreeance, and you say your goodbyes, promising to have them over for dinner in a few days. You watch their figures retreat out the courthouse doors, and then you’re alone with Travis.

He looks ethereal – the post wedding glow is something you know won’t go away any time soon. Though the whole thing was quite unconventional you wouldn’t change it for the world. Something about it is so distinctly you and Travis: the spontaneity of it all, how it happened on your own accord. You know you’ll receive an earful when you call your families to let them know of the change, but you don’t care. At no time will you ever be as happy as you are now.

Your fingers find his for possibly the hundredth time today but neither of you complain, so in love with each other you’re sure if any of his teammates were here Travis would be getting chirped into oblivion.

“What do you say Konecny? Want to get out of here?” he asks, punctuating the end of his statement with a kiss to the tip of your nose.

You’ve never heard him have a better suggestion. “Lead the way lover boy.”

❥❥❥

taglist: @jamiedrysdales @kiedhara @tortito @brokeninsidebutnobodyknows if you want to be added shoot me an ask :)

#travis konecny imagine #travis konecny x reader #travis konecny fic #philadelphia flyers imagine #hockey imagine #hockey fic #nhl imagine #nhl fic #cwrites

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plasticnightmaredoll · 3 years

Text

So, the "Justice League" finally got its own movie, eh? Oh, that thing from 2017 was just trash. It's gone. We don't need to look at it anymore.

But in all seriousness, it's great people called out for the Zack Snyder cut of the movie and actually got it! And, yes, it is a vast improvement over the Joss Whedon cut.

Now, my feelings about the DCEU have been pretty divided:

I actually did enjoy "Man of Steel" and found Superman to be relatable and likable for once (I'm not a Superman fan and don't come for me)

"Wonder Woman" was very entertaining and easily the best entry for me in the movie series so far.

"Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice" was a hot mess. Lots of good ideas but it was executed poorly. It felt kind of cheesy at times, especially that whole "Save Martha" thing. Jesse Eisenburg is not a convincing Lex Luthor. Ben Affleck is not a good actor and is a terrible Batman/Bruce Wayne. He's not as bad as George Clooney, but he's not much better either.

"Wonder Woman 1984" was a massive glow-down. Poor quality writing, Maxwell Lord was a weak villain, Cheetah was laughable, and the ending was so goddamn corny! Not to mention, it took ages for anything interesting to happen, and what was the deal with Steve Trevor possessing another dude's body? I mean...what?

Haven't seen "Suicide Squad" in its entirety but I do know and have seen enough to decide that it's a huge misstep. Haven't seen "Birds of Prey (And the Fantabulous Emancipation of One Harley Quinn)" either but I have some interest in it so perhaps someday.

Haven't watched "Aquaman" but probably will eventually but I'm just not very motivated to see it. I like Jason Mamoa as Aquaman/Arthur Curry, but...I don't know. The trailers didn't really grab my attention.

The 2017 Joss Whedon version of "Justice League" was terrible -- worse than "Batman v Superman," worse than "Wonder Woman 1984." I thought the movie moved too quickly, lacked proper character development, and had some bad CGI (I mean, Mustache Gate, am I right?)

Onto the Synder Cut for "Justice League!" Spoilers ahead, of course:

These are really a collection of thoughts, opinions, and observations I had while watching the movie. I have only seen the 2017 film once and honestly don't want to watch it ever again, not even to "refresh my memory" of some details.

Steppenwolf

Steppenwolf was such a pitiful villain in the Whedon Cut. The CGI for him was terrible, and he looked like some weird dude in armor. His personality and motives were paper thin as well. He was a throw-away, token villain, and the only things memorable about him was his name and voice.

In the Snyder Cut, not only was Steppenwolf's CGI much more refined, his character design was imposing. His armor seemed to be alive, too, always shifting slightly, this way and that, which was an impressive sight. His motives, while nothing too deep or extraordinary, gave him a little more depth: he pissed off Darkseid and had to make up for it, and was clearly afraid of what could happen to him if he failed.

The name and voice obviously were still memorable but combined with the other improvements to his character, they were icing on the cake.

That being said, I don't think Steppenwolf is as intriguing or even remotely sympathetic as Loki and Thanos in the MCU.

Darkseid

Was Darkseid even mentioned in the Whedon cut? I can't remember and I don't want to watch that shitty movie again just to find out. However, I don't recall Darkseid making an appearance or even being spoken of in the 2017 version. Now, I haven't read DC (or Marvel) comics, so I don't know a lot about the guy, but he is supposedly one of the more iconic villains.

His motives are pretty simple, though: command and conquer. There isn't a lot of depth so far in the movies but he does pose a much larger threat than Steppenwolf did. You could tell Steppenwolf was intimidated by Darkseid, who was about as cold and menacing as they come. He's a complete villain in that regard, having no emotions and only seeking power for himself.

He looked great in the Snyder Cut. He was actually really fucking scary-looking. He made the beefcake Steppenwolf look like a puppy.

I'm glad that Darkseid made an appearance, even if he didn't fight the Justice League. It alludes to a much broader story, as well as foreshadows an epic boss fight down the line -- assuming the Snyder Cut is popular enough to convince the studios to make a direct sequel and not just abandon things in favor of some sort of soft reboot.

Superman/Clark Kent/Henry Cavill/Mustache Gate

Let's get this out of the way: Henry Cavill is hot af.

Ok, now that we got that out of the way, hooray for Snyder for getting rid of those nasty reshoot scenes involving Henry's CGI'd mouth! Can't say I missed them, you know? I mean, in the 2017 Whedon Cut, you could always spot reshoot scenes based on whether or not Henry's mouth looked normal and totally strange.

I think the 2017 movie had Superman grab Batman by the neck and ask, "Tell me: Do you bleed?" I'm relieved that was removed from the Synder Cut because it added too much of an evil tone to Superman, and we could clearly tell he was most upset with Batman upon being revived.

One massive problem with the 2017 movie was that it made every member of the Justice League look like bumbling idiots without Superman's help. It was downright embarrassing and unrealistic. I mean, you're telling me that Wonder Woman, a goddess, can't take on Steppenwolf? Or Victor Stone, a cyborg with incredible abilities? Making Superman key to winning isn't the problem, it's how it was done in the 2017 movie. He's already OP but that shouldn't mean his comrades have to be useless in comparison.

Superman was allowed to be OP in the Snyder Cut without making his team look incompetent. Like in the Avengers movies, everyone in the Justice League had a purpose and all of them worked together to defeat Steppenwolf. Superman obviously was key to winning, but, again, it wasn't like he was the only capable one during the battle.

I did like the black suit. It's kind of ominous but also very cool at the same time. But is it also foreshadowing something? I don't know...I haven't read the comics so I really don't have any idea lol.

Batman/Bruce Wayne/Batfleck

One glaring issue I still have is Ben Affleck is a mediocre actor at best and he's a terrible Bruce Wayne/Batman. I mean, they couldn't have found anyone else? Someone with, like, good acting abilities?

Martian Manhunter

This whole time -- THIS WHOLE GOTDAMM TIME -- Martian Manhunter was hiding in plain sight! General Swanwick, who I remember from "Man of Steel," IS Martian Manhunter. I didn't see that coming. I mean, I knew Martian Manhunter would appear in the Snyder Cut but I didn't know he'd have an alternate identity, let alone that of an existing character in the DCEU.

As much as I did like seeing him, I am glad he didn't play a big part because the movie already has plenty of characters as is, and introducing yet another one could have slowed things down and taken away from developing the plot.

The Runtime/Pacing

I mentioned already that the Whedon Cut felt rushed and needed much more time to develop its characters and plot. While I had doubts about whether or not making "Justice League" four hours long would be a good idea, it turns out that it was just what the story needed.

Character development was actually existent, and Cyborg/Victor Stone received a detailed backstory, and Flash/Barry Allen got some extra tidbits added to his character's story/background as well.

I actually thought Victor was a fascinating (if a bit tragic) character in the Whedon cut and was disappointed that he just sort of, like, popped up and fought alongside the other Justice League members with the tiniest amount of depth.

Despite an epic 4-hour runtime, it didn't feel slow, nor did it feel like any scenes were "filler." Every scene had a purpose and kept the story moving at a steady, comprehensible pace. It felt more like a 2.5-3 hour movie, honestly, which is a feat since pacing can often be one of a film's biggest issues ("Avengers: Endgame" also accomplished this feat with its 3-hour runtime feeling more like 2-2.5 hours but with no negative side effects of that). Breaking the movie into chapters, including an epilogue was a tad strange because it's not a very common thing, but I think it helped break up the epic 4 hours into separate, manageable but still cohesive pieces. Also, they helped easily transition from one portion to the next smoothly without any awkward cuts.

The Flash/Barry Allen/Ezra Miller

Barry still amused me in the Whedon Cut. He brought some good-natured humor and charm to the movie, preventing it from being too brooding and intense.

I think Ezra is a talented actor and does well in the Barry Allen role but he is, unfortunately, a problematic person. I mean, if he gets recast, he gets recast but hopefully, they pick someone else who has some acting abilities worth noting (i.e. Not a Ben Affleck type of actor)

The Final Battle

It was a huge improvement over the 2017 cut, as everyone was key to winning the final battle, not just Superman. It is meant to be a team of costumed heroes defeating a villain, not just one OP member of the team outdoing everyone else.

That being said, I felt that the final battle was a little bit anti-climatic. I don't know what it was but I just thought that it would be longer? I expected more to happen? More fighting? Not sure how to describe it, but I do feel like it wasn't as impressive as it could have been.

The Epilogue

A dystopian future involving an evil Superman and Joker somehow working WITH Batman was just...crazy. I mean, evil Superman, I can believe, but Joker and Batman working together (even reluctantly) is quite a sight.

Based on what I've been reading, this nightmare Bruce has could be setting up not one but two sequels for "Justice League." I would like to see how things will play out even if things get kind of dark. I'm getting the impression that Darkseid will kill Lois Lane, thus breaking Superman emotionally and making him compliant. That is unless Bruce intervenes in this timeline and prevents that from happening...but at the expense of his own life. Oh dear...

I definitely enjoyed the Zack Snyder version of "Justice League," and would definitely watch it again and again and again. I already have forgotten the majority of the Whedon Cut, and after seeing Synder's version, I think the 2017 movie will be rendered null and void. I hope it is just expelled from the DCEU canon entirely. That, and we get the "Justice League" sequels, preferably from Zack Snyder (Say what you want but I think he is a pretty good director for the most part and seems to really care about this work).

I honestly want to see a fight between the Justice League and Darkseid because I think that's what we're trying to build up to, and seeing as how Darkseid is one of the legendary villains in the DC comics, I would be extremely disappointed if this doesn't come to pass.

Also, as much as I like Batman/Bruce Wayne, seeing him sacrifice himself to save the team, including Lois and thus Superman's sanity, would be something else. It would bring everyone even closer together, for one, and I think that the negativity shared between Batman and Superman in the past would be completely forgiven. I'm not saying there isn't forgiveness now, but dying to save Superman's wife would change everything....if that makes sense? Does it make sense? I'm terrible at explaining my thoughts sometimes.

#justice league #zack snyder #dceu #snyder cut #zack snyder's justice league #superman #wonder woman #the flash #cyborg #martian manhunter #darkseid #steppenwolf #batman #barry allen #bruce wayne #diana prince #victor stone #aquaman #arthur curry

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palmett-hoes · 4 years

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Hi, I really loved your post with the monsters as Birds of Prey! Was wondering if you had any thoughts on the Foxes as Marvel or Mcu characters? I feel like I could see Dan as Carol Danvers and Andrew for sure is Jessica Jones, idk about the rest.

oh wow old post!!

haha unfortunately i’m not really a comics person so i don’t feel like i can really give the best analysis possible, but i have seen most of the mcu movies and bits and pieces of the netflix show so i’ll try my best. also im using dc characters too bc i want to

1. Dan: I think your instinct with Dan as Captain Marvel is spot-on (at least uhhh,, based on the movie lol sorry comics ppl). Her direct, forceful powers and fighting style are definitely reminiscent of dan’s no-nonsense leadership approach. similarly the themes of overcoming sexism and acceling in a male-dominated industry in the captain marvel movie is pretty much the same as dan’s story establishing herself as the first female exy captain (tho sports is way more valid than the military). plus there’s a lot of emphasis on love and friendship between women that dan is ALL about. also lashana lynch would be a god tier dan wilds fc. Dan could also def have that lawful good Okoye from Black Panther energy. Loyal, disciplined, no-nonsense leader. no powers except discipline. no hair. also danai gurira in 2012 with the dreads and the sword and the cape on TWD was definitely part of my middle school sexual awakening

2. Kevin: Aquaman. this is based pretty much exclusively on the fact that jason momoa is my #1 kevin fc and also that Pasifika kevin is phenomenal and mandatory, actually. otherwise i think he has a decent amount of stick-up-the-ass cyclops energy. or dick grayson nightwing energy but i don’t have any evidence for why. kinda looks like him tho

3. Andrew: andrew gets the most characters bc he’s my favorite. i think ur jessica jones instincts are absolutely correct, both in her storyline (i only watched the first season) and her powers. i’ve seen some powers au and the tendency seems to be giving andrew like,, psychic powers or the like, and i don’t really agree. andrew is a very direct character. he’s pragmatic, he confronts problems head on, and he doesn’t muck about in details. to me this really translates best into physical powers like super strength that help u big punch straight thru all ur problems. also i def think andrew would be not just a solo hero but a mercenary (or a detective) because he’s not altruistic enough to be a standard vigilante. he doesn’t care enough about other people to hang out on rooftops all night waiting for Crime to occur. there’s a price for that. which brings us to the NEXT andrew hero: deadpool. maybe in personality more of a drugged andrew but the superpowered mercenary is really a perfect fit for andrew. also, healing powers have a decidedly tragic poetry to them on andrew. already he’s self-destructive, if he had a healing factor his concern for his own well-being would be so beyond rock bottom it’d be in the earth’s core. even worse when you remember that with a healing factor, as opposed to indestructibility, you still feel all the pain. which brings us to Wolverine and X-23, who have the same thematic points as deadpool but are much more of a personality match and they have knife hands, which i really think andrew would appreciate. ending that sadness train and onto another tho, andrew’s aesthetic and Vibes fit the Winter Soldier just SO well (just that movie tho, not really civil war or anything past that) and a reinterpretation of the captain america story using the twinyards would be incredibly interesting. and finally, one last hero that would work really well for andrew: rogue, only remove the angst around not being able to touch people, andrew would love that. one touch and their comatose? baller. don't fucking touch him.

4. Matt: Shazam. I didn’t see the shazam movie but my dad and brother did and they said it was very funny and all the trailors looked like it had a lot of fun himbo energy and i really think that fits. in terms of matching himbo disaster energy i think i’ve heard good things about comics hawkeye (not mcu). thor?

5. Aaron: Mr. Fantastic. now this might be a stretch but aaron is a character who uses a skin-deep veneer of anger to cover the fact that he’s actually quite pliant and bends to other people’s wills. and he’s a doctor or w/e. he could alse be like,, antman. he’s smart right? hank pym not paul rudd. katelyn can be wasp

6. Seth: Arm Fall Off Boy. no i will not elaborate. ..... ugh fine, but i'm using my favorite piece of superhero media of all time: x-men evolution, the one where they're all teenagers in public high school. seth can be lance alvers/avalanche who’s a bit of a jerk and has a lot of issues with authority and has a rivalry with cyclops very reminiscent of seth with kevin, but still there’s the recurring theme that he’s lashing out because of low self-esteem and a bad situation and he’s a surprisingly sympathetic character who i’m very fond of. his power is earthquakes but i think the name makes that pretty self-explanatory

7. Allison: Iron Man. cocky, bitchy, and rich rich rich. sounds like allison to me. then to elevate it a level higher: emma frost, rich bitch extraordinaire. also if allison had telepathic powers she would be unstoppable. plus one more bitchy, morally-gray blonde (but chaotic this time): Harley Quinn

8. Nicky: Okay so I do wanna give a quick shout-out to Northstar, the first openly gay comicbook superhero, who’s a speedster which I’d actually say fits Nicky pretty well. However, if i had to choose a superhero to represent nicky in presence and powers it would have to be Jubilee from x-men (... from what i’ve heard lol. i’ve never actually consumed any of her Media hahaha anyway) she’s a joyful, energetic presence and her powers are setting off fireworks which i think is a good balance of nicky being a supportive cousin-parent AND a chaotic train wreck garbage trash man. also gonna throw in johnny storm for a cheap 'flaming' joke

9. Renee: Thunder/Blackbird from Black Lightning bc she’s a fufkin lesbian lol. (i don’t watch the show but i do follow nafessa williams’s tag). now the fr ones i’m gonna do together because to me they have the same Vibes so i chose them for the same reasons. Wonder Woman and Storm who to me have the same reserved, impartial, regal energy. honestly ethereal and somewhat otherwordly, and quite literally goddesses. also op as hell. black widow and her “red in my leger” looking for redemption story also fits thematically.

10. Neil: okay lazy answer first: the flash or quicksilver. get it? because they run fast? and neil run too? yea i like to think i've proven myself to be better than such a surface level interpretation but worth the mention ig. so for srs now, mystique and her shape changing powers would be an interesting interpretation of neil's identity issues, but i wanna push it a step further. nightcrawler would actually be possibly the MOST interesting hero to apply to neil 1. because powers still very movement go fast place to place 2. because of the thematic focus on neil's unusual looks and the lengths he goes to hide them, very much in line with the way nightcrawler will use a hologram-projector in order to look human, yet in both cases it's only a surface-level illusion, and 3. his parentage. here, mary would be mystique, which i also think works very well considering mary seemed to be the far more effective chameleon on the run than neil, and also fits with her place as a morally grey character, as mystique herself is often a villain or an antagonist, with her own agenda and shadowy motives. then nathan matches well with nightcrawler's father: azazel, a literal demon, and also where kurt gets his appearance. it's a shockingly coherent narrative between the three of them. then, to also give neil some powers that aren't contingent on his fucked up geneology and rather on his own merit and abilities, Black Canary and her sonic voice parallel the way that neil began to anchor his identity and take ownership over himself through his voice and his sick roasts

and 1 extra, wymack: batman, on account of his altruism, his dedication to second chances, and his many, many adopted children

---

anon, ik it's been a sec since you sent this, so i hope it gets back to you. i had a fun time with it and it prompted like,,, 7 different au s that i'll never write

#Anonymous #txt #the foxes #im talkin #my posts

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potrix-the-queerschlaeger · 4 years

Text

cool guys don’t look at explosions

A commission for @not-the-cavalry, who wanted badass Bucky and competent Tony to save the day. Which they do repeatedly. And in their very own, special ways. Or, alternatively; 5 times Bucky is a total badass plus the one time Tony proves he’s still got it.

(You can also find this story over on AO3.)

- - -

“—will understand that I’ve been fighting on the right side all along. The United Nations is a symbol of oppression. An illusion that keeps us apart—”

Tony lets his head fall back against the wall with a sigh, wondering once again why the universe hates him enough to do this to him on one of his rare days off. All he’d wanted was to spend one quiet, peaceful afternoon with Bucky, but no, apparently they can’t even get burgers without some wannabe-villain—Flag Smacker? Flag Smasher?—deciding to take everyone in their favourite diner hostage.

He’s been ranting about the abolition of country borders in order to achieve world peace—while threatening to blow up a diner full of innocent people—for nearly fifteen minutes now, and Tony really wishes he hadn’t decided to go completely Iron Man-free today.

“Fuck’s sake,” Bucky mutters from next to Tony, rubbing tiredly at his face when Tony turns to look at him. “Is this guy for real?”

Before Tony has the chance to answer, Bucky springs up to his feet and advances on the guy with a shouted, “Hey!”

The guy swivels to point his gun at Bucky, but hesitates when Bucky doesn’t stop. It’s his undoing; by the time he’s aimed, Bucky’s already on him, landing a punch to his face with a crunch that makes Tony wince.

Tony glances down at the guy, writhing and moaning on the floor, then around the diner at the gaping people and, finally, up at Bucky. “Well. That’s one way of doing it.”

Bucky nudges the guy’s gun away with the tip of his boot. “All I wanted was a damn cheeseburger.”

“Iron Man, come in!” Steve yells over the comms, Doombots screeching in the background. “The Winter Soldier is injured, we need an extraction.”

Tony’s heart skips a beat and he speeds up, nearly clipping the edge of a building in his hurry. To his relief, Bucky is actually still standing when he finally spots him and Steve, though he’s panting and his prosthetic arm is hanging limply at his side.

Tony winces. “Shit.”

But then, before he’s even landed, Bucky charges at a Doombot, jumps up high, twists while still in the air and smacks the deadweight of his arm into the Doombot’s middle, sending it flying and crashing into the nearest car.

Tony raises an eyebrow at Steve.

Steve just sighs and shakes his head.

“You stabbed me!” the Hydra agent screeches at Bucky, before turning his incredulous gaze on Tony. “He stabbed me!”

It doesn’t happen often, but sometimes, even Tony is lost for words. After a moment, he manages to offer, “Well, you did wave a gun in his face.”

The Hydra agent almost looks like he’s pouting. “Cap’s never stabbed me before!”

“Do I look like fuckin’ Captain America to you?” Bucky growls as he stalks closer, twirling another knife between his fingers.

With a squeak, the Hydra agent moves to stand behind Tony.

Bucky smirks.

The Hydra base goes up in flames as Bucky’s walking away from it, not a scratch on him or a hair out of place.

Clint nods to himself. “Cool guys don’t look at explosions.”

Sam pretends he’s not laughing. Nat does grin, completely unashamed.

“Bucky, what the hell—” Steve starts, only to be interrupted by a chorus of, “Language, Cap!”

It’s almost embarrassing to admit that Hammer’s caught him off-guard, but, well. Even a broken clock is right twice a day. And, as loath as he is to admit it, Hammer isn’t a complete idiot and did strip Tony of everything he might be able to use as a weapon.

Which means Tony’s sitting in his cell in nothing but his underwear, shivering against the cold concrete, handcuffed and chained to the wall.

“What a pretty picture you make,” Hammer coos as he comes to crouch in front of Tony, grinning wildly and gun held loosely in one hand. “Now, you know the spiel by now, don’t you? We can do this the easy way or the hard way, blah blah blah. So! What’s it going to be, Tony?”

Upstairs in the warehouse, someone yells angrily and the sound of gunfire starts up.

Tony quirks an eyebrow up at Hammer.

“Nothing my men can’t handle,” Hammer dismisses, going for confident, but his hand twitches nervously and he absently licks his bottom lip. “Now, Tony. The blueprints. Do you have any idea—well, it’s you, so of course you do.”

He straightens up, pacing in front of Tony, free hand on his hip. “And since you’ve decided you’re too high and mighty to build things that actually matter, that make a true difference, I thought I’d be so nice and take those plans off your hands.”

Somewhere above them, something blows up.

“The blueprints, Tony!” Hammer hisses, a little wild-eyed now. When Tony stays silent, he moves closer again, curling a hand around Tony’s throat. “What, nothing to say? Don’t get tongue-tied now. No need for modesty between old friends.”

The cell door comes flying inwards, making Hammer jump and whirl around, gun raised.

Bucky allows himself a moment to take in the scene in front of him, then points his own gun at Hammer’s knee, teeth bared in a snarl. Unlike Hammer, he has no qualms about pulling the trigger.

Hammer flinches, but recovers quickly when nothing happens. “Oh! Oh, this is just perfect!” he laughs giddily. “Did you lose count?”

Still cackling, Hammer continues to tease, but Tony isn’t listening, too busy trying not to laugh at the look Bucky is shooting him that very clearly asks, “Is he fuckin’ serious right now?”

Tony just shrugs and then does laugh, loudly, when Bucky gives a shrug of his own and throws his empty gun right into Hammer’s smug face.

“Hi, honey, nice of you to show up,” he says, still grinning, as Bucky steps over Hammer’s unconscious form and comes to kneel at Tony’s side. “Took you long enough.”

Bucky snorts and rips open the cuffs. “Everyone’s a critic.”

Tony allows himself a day of being the worried boyfriend, sitting at Bucky’s bedside and holding his hand and watching his ashen face, before he pulls himself together and gets to work.

They’ve known the identity of the head of the smuggling ring for months, have intercepted countless shipments of alien technology, but actually pinning it on the guy in charge has proven incredibly tricky. There’s always been someone to take the fall for him, some evidence that vanished under mysterious circumstances, a witness who suddenly changed their mind about testifying.

It’s been infuriating and frustrating, yes, but now? With Bucky hurt and no one sure how long it will take him to recover? Now, it’s personal.

Getting an invitation to the party hosted by the politician’s son turned hustler is a piece of cake; he knows the government as well as the Avengers are after him, but he’s also convinced he’s untouchable and that has made him cocky.

Having Iron Man attend his little shindig? Tony knew he wouldn’t be able to refuse.

The scans and frisking before he’s allowed into the mansion are expected and he smiles good-naturedly through the whole process, cracking jokes and readily handing over his phone, wallet and watch to be confiscated. And once he’s inside, things couldn’t go any smoother.

He small-talks and networks, laughs and flirts, and happily accepts when Rami, the guy he’s after, asks him for a dance, letting him lead them out onto the floor. They chat idly the first few minutes, both extremely aware of who they’re with and what kind of game they’re playing, but eventually Rami breaks.

“Your friend, Sergeant Barnes,” he says, all feigned compassion, “I hope he’s well?”

Tony smiles with maybe a little too much teeth. “Expected to make a full recovery, but thank you. Your concern is appreciated.”

It’s when the song changes to something slower that Tony gets his chance. Their bare hands come together as they resettle into position and, with a quick, featherlight tap of his finger against Rami’s wrist, things are set in motion.

And Tony doesn’t have to wait long. Rami cuts himself off mid-sentence only a few seconds later, frowning and blinking rapidly. Tony puts on a mock-sympathetic face. “Feeling a little hot, are we?”

Rami, to his credit, catches on immediately, hissing out, “What did you do?”

“Nothing yet,” Tony says with an innocent smile, tightening his hold on Rami when he goes to pull back. “But, as we speak, nanotechnology is making itself at home in your body. Not an issue in general, quite the opposite,” he drawls and lets the brandnew Bleeding Edge armour curl around his fingers, watching in satisfaction as Rami’s eyes go wide. “But should it, let’s say, cause a blockage in a major artery? Or rapidly expand somewhere it isn’t supposed to? That could, indeed, cause some trouble.”

“What do you want?” Rami demands, through gritted teeth, and Tony beams as he chirps, “Look me in the eyes.”

Rami’s confusion melts away as soon as Tony activates the Iron Man HUD lenses, morphing into absolute outrage. He’s smart enough to stay quiet, though.

“A confession, if you’d be so kind,” Tony says as he begins recording. “Not that it will be necessary, the nanobots will be deep in your phone and private servers by now, but showing some measure of regret always looks good in front of a jury.”

With everything activated, the Avengers as well as SHIELD and the FBI will already have been alerted and be on their way, a live feed of what Tony sees and every bit of information the ‘bots dig up getting sent to all their electronic devices. Whether Rami confesses or not is irrelevant, though Tony certainly enjoys watching him fume and squirm.

But then, after a few moments, Rami starts talking.

And if Tony snags a bottle from behind the bar as he leaves? Well, he’s pretty sure no one’s going to say anything, given the circumstances. And Bucky does like his whiskey.

#winteriron #buckytony #tonybucky #tony stark #bucky barnes #bamf bucky #badass bucky #competent tony #tony stark is a genius #crack-ish #humour #happy ending #myfics

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talltree-writes · 4 years

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I Didn’t Mean to Fall // Ineffable Husbands

Gabriel and Beelzebub try to pit Aziraphale and Crowley against each other by revealing some old information.

Genre: fluff, a little angst, f2l,

Pairing: Aziraphale/Crowley (Ineffable Husbands)

Warnings: none

Word Count: 2.2k

Author’s Note: This has been sitting in my docs since a few months after the show came out. I think I was going to try to write it all out in a formal style, but I like this better, honestly. There are most certainly many fics with some of these same tropes, but I just really like them. I have not read the book (yet!!), so if something is wrong in regards to the written canon, I’m very sorry.

-Basically Gabriel has seen what’s going on and he’s here to sow discord for C/A

-Aziraphale is in his bookshop organizing his shelf of first edition poetry books

-In comes gabriel, smug little grin on his face

-Obviously he startles Zira because baby boy is no longer under Heaven’s thumb and doesn’t expect a visit from the archangel

-“Aziraphale! So good to see you.”

-Zira just frowns at him because he knows the opposite to be true

-Gabriel just goes on

-He’s here to stir up trouble

-“Listen, why don’t we talk in the back, we have some private things to discuss”

-He grips Zira’s shoulder a little to hard in order to tell him it’s non-negotiable

-They get to the back and the smirk becomes a hard grin

-“I hear you and the demon Crowley have been getting pretty cozy”

-Zira, stunned, can only think ‘We successfully hid our friendship for 6000 years and they only find out once we no longer work for them?’

-But he says

-“Crowley is a friend, yes”

-There’s no point in hiding it, after all, both Gabe and Beezlebub saw them at that air base

-Gabriel’s smile falters for a split second

-He wasn’t expecting that

-But he can work with it

-“A friend, really?”

-He levels a gaze at the other angel

-Zira’s not about to admit it right then and there,

-So he looks at Gabe likes he’s lost it and says yes

-“There have been whispers, Aziraphale, that there is much more between you and the Fallen… that, perhaps, you’re even in love with Crowley”

-Aziraphale’s heart drops into his stomach

-‘How could he know? He hadn’t told anyone, had never written it down, had never even expressed anything to Crowley?’

-“I am not in love with Crowley.”

-Gabe raises an eyebrow

-“If you say so.”

-He shrugs and starts for the door.

-But then turns around to look at the barely-concealing-his-shock angel

-“You know, She always intended for you two to be together.”

-Aziraphale became confused. Very few angels had intended mates, it was one of the few things She allowed them to choose for themselves.

-She usually only had intended mates for...archangels

-Gabriel took advantage of the moment of confusion

-“Oh? He hasn’t told you who he was before the fall?”

-Aziraphale’s mind flashed through all of the times he had brought the subject of the Fall up, and Crowley had gotten a distant look and changed the subject, or said “I didn’t mean to fall” or brushed it off

-Then he thought of the few clues that Crowley had given him over the years. One in particular stook out. Alpha Centauri.

-He hadn’t made the connection when Crowley was screaming it at him (to be fair, they were in quite the stressful situation, and were both focussing on the Antichrist)

-She wouldn’t have entrusted the creation of an entire system to just any angel

-Only an archangel would hold that power

-There were only two archangels who fell

-Lucifer, obviously, and…

-Raphael

-Raphael, who was never mentioned again after the fall

-Raphael, who’s loss hurt almost as much as Lucifer’s

-Raphael, who had never spoken out against Her

-‘I didn’t mean to fall’...

-Aziraphale’s face lights up with recognition

-Gabriel sees this

-“I could never figure out why he Fell. Perhaps it was all apart of your beloved ineffable plan”

-Shoots a final grin

-And leaves Zira to his thoughts

-Meanwhile

-Unbeknownst to Crowley or Zira, Gabriel had gone to Beezlebub, who was also salty about being shown up by Crowley, and colluded together to throw them off and pit them against each other

-Crowley has a recording of Much Ado about Nothing playing as he reads along

-(He’s trying to surprise Zira with some knowledge and quotes and the last time he’d seen/heard anything pertaining to it was when the bard himself was alive)

-The recording scratches to a stop

-“Crowley…”

-Crowley froze, he hadn’t heard that voice since the Apocalypse that wasn’t

-Feigns nonchalance

-“Beelzebub! To what do I owe the displeasure?”

-He doesn’t work for Hell anymore-- he doesn’t have to refer to anyone as Lord -unless he wants to

-“I have heard rumors of you… consorting… with the Angel”

-Crowley knows exactly what angel they’re talking about

-(obviously, it’s his angel)

-“Which angel would that be exactly? I’m told Heaven has a whole host of them.”

-“The angel Aziraphale, of course.”

-“Oh that angel! No, I’m afraid we see each other as little as possible. Really only meet to discuss our mutual operative”

-“Are you denying that you see each other every day?”

-Crowley didn’t know how or why they kept an eye on them. He thought that they would keep even less surveillance on them as they were no longer agents of Heaven or Hell. Apparently he was wrong

-“Our mutual operative has been having issues lately. We’ve been discussing, at length, whether or not the operative is worth keeping on either side. The goody-two shoes, of course, thinks we should, since the guy is such an imbecile that he maintains a perfect level of good and evil. I, obviously, no longer see the point in it, as we no longer work for either side. The sooner we dismiss him, the sooner we can go our separate ways.”

-It hurts to refer to his angel as anything other than absolutely wonderful or to even pretend that every moment he spends with Zira wasn’t the most fulfilling thing in his life since… well, since he became a demon.

-Beelzebub, knowing the truth, doesn’t buy it.

-“Drop the act, traitor. Both sides know of your little friendship. I just thought you should know that the angel is being informed of your… former self as we speak.”

-Crowley’s brain, and therefore, his mouth, stopped working

-He had spent so long attempting to keep his former identity concealed for so long.

-He had never met his intended mate, and even though he knew he loved Aziraphale, he didn’t know whether or not his meeting Zira was apart of the Ineffable Plan, or just superb luck

-Then, he realized something Beelzebub said

-“Have you been in contact with the other side?”

-Beelzebub goes silent. Crowley is afraid he had disconnected the conversation

-He forged on anyway

-“You have, haven’t you? I’d wager you’ve been in contact with the head halo himself. Tell me, have you told Gabriel of your former identity? I’m sure he’d love to hear that his intended is not only fallen, but, in fact, the prince of hell, themself.”

-When there was no response, instead the voices from the play filtering through his speakers, he knew the other demon had heard him. And he was definitely scared.

-Nonetheless, Crowley was also terrified. If Aziraphale knew, it could change how the angel thinks of him. An archangel? Fallen? It was practically unheard of. Sure, Lucifer himself had fallen, but no other Archangel had uttered any kind of alliance to their brother.

-His own falling had been a separate, private affair. He had approached God Herself (back when God still held audiences with her children instead of sending them straight to the Metatron), and innocently brought his questions before her. When he could bring himself to think about the occasion, he thought he recalled an air of regret and sadness in Her throne room. Almost as if She didn’t want to make him fall. Though, he supposed She’d be loathe to see any of her creations become her enemies.

-Truth be told, he’d never understood why he fell. His questions had never been drastic, and not nearly to the extent She allowed Lucifer’s to get to. But perhaps any questions were grounds to fall after Lucifer’s rebellion

-At any rate, he had to get to the bookshop to explain everything to Aziraphale. His musings on Her decisions could wait until his next drunken pity party

-He grabbed his jacket and miracles himself into the Bentley

-He speeds his way through London to the Soho-based bookshop. The lights on the first floor were dark, and for a second, he thought that Zira was out and about.

-He parks around the corner anyway and got out to walk to the front door. He had no idea if Gabriel was still there

-He got his answer when he spotted the front door open. He went back around the corner and peeked to see a smug looking Gabriel step out of the shop

-Figuring both sides already knew, and they therefore had nothing to lose, he approached his former brother

-“Gabe! What a coincidence to run into you! I assume you’ve just come from telling Aziraphale my former identity. I’m sure you can imagine how grateful I am for sharing an incredibly personal piece of information with someone else without my permission. But how could I return the favor? Hmm… Did you ever meet your intended?”

-Gabriel froze

-Crowley continues

-“No, I suppose you didn’t. After all, your ceremony came after the Fall. Suppose they had to cancel it, then. Must have sucked, knowing your mate fell, but not knowing who they were. Almost as much as never knowing who your mate was in the first place. I, of course, knew, because I told them. But you already know this, y’know, since you were supposed to tell mine. Now that you’ve revealed information that was truly none of your business, I shall return the favor. I assume neither Michael, nor Uriel, have been ballsy enough to tell you who your mate is.”

-He didn’t receive an answer, but continued anyway.

-“You are familiar, of course, with our mutual companion, Beelzebub.”

-Silence

-“I’m sure you’ll be pleased to finally know who your mate is. Now if you would please fuck off and stay out of our lives, we won’t meddle in the matters of heaven and hell- especially your love lives.”

-He pushes past his former brother into the shop.

-“Angel?”

-No response

-He heads into the back

-“Angel?”

-He finds Aziraphale sitting, pensively staring at the wall

-“...Angel…?”

-“Is it true?”

-Crowley knew what he was talking about, there was no use beating around the bush

-“Yes”

-“Why wouldn’t you tell me? Things could have been so much different. Were you ever going to tell me?”

-Aziraphale looks up with a pained look

-Crowley takes a deep breath

-“Eventually… when I accepted what happened.”

-“It’s been 6000 years! Didn’t you think I deserved to know I was your intended?!”

-That stopped Crowley in his tracks.

-“You- you’re my intended?”

-His eyes are blown wide with shock

-Now Zira is confused

-“Yes… I thought that’s what we were talking about. You didn’t know either?”

-“Angel… I thought we were talking about me. I never found out who my intended was. I mean, I had hoped it was you, but I was never sure.”

-“How did Gabriel know?”

-“He was assigned to tell you.”

-Zira’s face scrunched up.

-“I can’t imagine Gabriel being the deliverer of such happy news.”

-“He wasn’t always such an emotionless prick. I’m afraid losing one’s intended in the Fall is rather jarring to an angel. And a demon, to be honest. Beelzebub hasn’t been the same since they fell.”

-“Were they someone’s intended?”

-“Believe it or not, they were Gabriel’s. Obviously, their name wasn’t Beelzebub, but Anabiel and Gabriel were supposed to be very happy together, in fact every archangel was very happy with their intended until they fell. Only Lucifer, Gabriel and myself were left to have our intended ceremonies.”

-Aziraphale got a thoughtful look

-“Don’t you think it’s odd that half of every intended couple fell?”

-Crowley shrugged

-“I’ve been thinking about it for years, and I can’t come up with anything concrete.”

-Zira muses for a second.

-“It’s not worth thinking about, Angel. It all depends on several hypotheticals of what was happening in Her brain this whole time. Something neither of us are privy to.”

-“No, I suppose you’re right, my dear. Besides, I think other matters are slightly more pressing.”

-Crowley raised an eyebrow at his angel

-Who rose

-“What matters, Angel?”

-“The matter of our relationship, my dear, and how it progresses from here.”

-“...Oh”

-Soft BoiTM becomes super anxious

-“Of course, if you would like to remain friends, that is okay. I do vaguely remember some archangels who kept their relationships platonic, and if that is what you wish, I will gladly-”

-Crowley stands up quite quickly and hugs his angel

-“Aziraphale, I would like nothing more than to create a life with you, together as mates. Romantic mates.”

-When Aziraphale’s smile lit up the entire room (literally, he was allowing some of his ethereal form to slip through the veil), Crowley had to shield his eyes

-But when the light dimmed (with a sheepish look from the still very excited Aziraphale), Crowley allowed a genuine smile to alight onto his face

-Now, here’s the thing about Crowley and smiling

-Aziraphale can count on two hands the amount of times he has seen a genuine smile when Crowley was sober

-He smirked, or scowled, sometimes he would let a grin pass

-But rarely would he truly, genuinely, smile

-But this was the best one Zira had ever seen in all of his 6000+ years

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callsign-bunnie · 5 years

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Dependencies pt 1

Fandom: Thomas Sanders Pairing: Analogical (Anxiety x Logic) Warnings: dark themes. You guys know me by now. Virgil’s anxious thoughts are stated. Allusions to sex. (Lust mention.) Food mention. Notes before going in: those who have been following me know by now that I am uh... not all sunshine and rainbows when it comes to my writing. My stuff can get pretty heavy and often pretty dark. However, any trigger warnings will be tagged. And if you ask me, I will tag specific non-general triggers in any future chapters or works. If you simply don’t want to see a fic in general, I would suggest blacklisting the name, which will be in the tags. Thank you. Summary: Logan is very neat and controlled. Virgil is the opposite. Logan, 30, is the leader of a well known underground crime network, though he specifically has managed to remain anonymous, very few knowing his identity. Virgil, 23, on the other hand, is an artist who hates talking to people and has chronic anxiety. Virgil and Logan are thrown in each other's paths when Virgil gets Logan as his professor in the math class Logan uses as a cover identity. (And guilty pleasure but he’ll never admit that.) Already, Logan is... intrigued.

Sometimes, our darkest secrets aren't the ones we hide the most. For Logan, possibly his lightest secret was the one he hid the most. To quickly raise in the ranks, he had to give an appearance of being cold. Unfeeling. Sociopathic. And while yes, he could be considered a sociopath, he could feel some things. Anger. Love. Lust. Happiness. As much as Logan tried to hide this secret, the feelings were drugs for him, just as addicting as Heroin or Cocaine. And anything that sparked these feelings was considered precious to him. He needed it.

However, Logan was incredibly intelligent. This was perhaps how he managed to keep himself from gaining a... dependence. And perhaps how he rose so fast in the ranks. He'd learned by now to never do his own dirty work and to stay detached from it, as well. Lest whoever does it is stupid enough to be caught. Many of his higher-ups had not learned this and of course paid the price for it, once the police caught on. Another lesson he'd learned from observing his higher-ups was to never leave a paper trail. Of course, keep track, but always have a fail-safe. Logan had taken to keeping his documents in a barrel that one could simply throw a match in and light it up. He'd also learned not to trust the internet unless using some kind of code. Unfortunately, lackeys were not good at recognizing and remembering codes. So, he just left all of his business to over throw away phones and in business. Maybe requests and commissions could be taken over the internet, but through nothing that could be traceable and he was always sure to keep his interactions vague, going through a lackey who typed differently so even that couldn't be tracked. And possibly the most important thing he'd learned; have an excellent cover. His being a math professor. He was seen as dorky by his students. No one would ever even suspect him of being who he was.

Of course, maintaining of these self-imposed rules required immense discipline. Possibly even an obsession with order and control. Fortunately, Logan had both of those qualities.

Virgil was the opposite. While Virgil was clever, he wasn't very academic. And his darkest secrets were the ones he kept deepest inside himself. Virgil also had a problem with feeling too much. All of his life, he'd been considered too emotional. Too... anything, really. He'd been told this many times. He figured by this point that if he was too much for people, he might as well not bother them. Other people never usually had anything interesting to contribute, anyway. He was also incredibly out of order.

His room was usually a disaster. And he managed to trip over everything. You'd think this would lead him to keep the floor clean, however, he just didn't care enough to bother. He also didn't care to bother cooking, so he'd become accustomed to eating ramen and anything microwaveable. And take out, when he could afford it. He didn't have a job, however, he received money from his parents and an allowance from what was left of his college fund and then later some weird source? On to that, later.

His parents weren't wealthy, however, and his college fund's remains were not grand. So, he sometimes had to go without a meal or two. Whatever, though. It wasn't a big deal to him. He barely thought about it.

Virgil had taken up art to keep from thinking about certain things. It was much easier to ignore issues if he was focusing on lines and color schemes, instead. Art was also a way to release pent up frustration, sadness, even happiness. You'd think happiness couldn't be pent up but when you talk to literally no one, well... it happens. So, he'd found an outlet. A relief. And just as emotions were intoxicating to Logan, art was just as intoxicating to Virgil. Granted, he wasn't making art most of the time, but he was usually thinking about it. Plotting out pieces he wanted to make, deciding where to fit yet another piece on his wall, what color fit what he was feeling, etc. Honestly, the thoughts alone seemed to help at this point, allowing him an outlet where there wasn't usually one

.Virgil stumbled into Logan's sight when he went to his first math class. Stumbled being literal, as Virgil almost tripped and hit his head on the fire extinguisher by the door. Luckily, he was early, always terrified of being late to a class due to having to walk in and everyone watch him walk to his seat. The idea filled him with dread. He hated it. So he made sure to be early to each class. Being early also had the perk of getting to choose his seat. Which he quite enjoyed. He almost always chose a seat in the back, however, math was a difficult subject for him, so he begrudgingly sat in the almost front. Okay, really, he usually sat in the middle of the class. People in the back were usually considered to be angsty, in the front to be go-getters. And nobody thought about those in the middle. It was the perfect place. But in college, with large class sizes, sitting in the middle often meant being unable to focus for Virgil. And since he already struggled with math, he usually decided it would be best for him to sit closer to the front.

He was already dreading this class, however. As he knew he would likely be close to failing it if he didn't ask for help. He'd struggled enough the year before. This year would likely be the same, if not worse. So he was already gearing himself up to have to talk, blegh, to his teacher in order to ask for tutoring options. Much fun was in store for him this year, because then he'd have to talk to whoever was tutoring him. Yay. Oh well, he was taking two art classes this year, so at least he had that. He was already finding himself daydreaming about them. They were independent art classes, which basically meant he got to create whatever he dreamed about creating.

So at least the year wouldn't be so bad, right? And he was... mostly fine in all of his other classes. So no tutoring there. Just math would be difficult.

As expected, he spent most of the class way behind and struggling to comprehend what the professor was saying. The professor was semi-friendly. Was mostly that dry professor who was kind but you could tell they wouldn't take your shit. Virgil tended to like those professors, as they usually left him alone, unable to remember every student. Unfortunately, once Virgil would make his presence known to this professor, he was sure they would remember him and he'd be stuck dealing with them until the end of the year. Yay, again. At least this professor wasn't a fast talker. That would be a struggle if they were. Well, more of a struggle, anyway. He was able to catch some detail, so it definitely helped. He'd taken to writing, in messy inconsistent shorthand, what the professor was saying to try to organize later. He never really got around to later, but hey, he was trying, at least, right?

His anxiety got worse and worse throughout the class, and needless to say, this was not helping his focus. He was dreading having to ask for help. So it was making his anxiety flip out. However, he managed to swallow it, tapping out his racing heartbeat on his stomach in his pocket as he went up to the professor's desk at the end of class. "Professor? Can I talk to you?"

"Of course, Mr..."

"Storm. I'm Virgil Storm. I um... Well, I have a tendency to struggle in Math and I was hoping you could have any tutoring recommendations?" Virgil asked, almost too quiet, but luckily he was heard.

The professor nodded and seemed to glance Virgil up and down. "I do offer tutoring hours of my own. I typically teach until five and I offer to tutor between 5 and 9. However, I will only allow up to an hour, since I'm assuming tutoring will have to be a regular thing?"

Virgil turned red and nodded in answer to the question. "Yes, unfortunately." He was managing to slow his tapping, though. Which was good.

His professor laughed, suddenly, and then stated, "goodness, you don't have to keep standing. Sit and we'll discuss a time to meet up."

Virgil turned red again and pulled up a chair, sitting in it and slouching slightly. "Since this is my last class of the day, I think tutoring at five would be helpful... So I could just hang around here, you know?" And his tapping sped back up, worried the professor would think that was a dumb idea.

"That would work out. I suppose it might help you to remember, as well." He nodded.

Virgil relaxed and nodded again. "That too. I'm sorry, I forgot your name..."

"Oh, of course. It's Logan Fairling. It's fine if you just call me Dr. Fair, however." Dr. Fairling answered, nodding

.Virgil nodded a bit and relaxed more. He knew he tended to overthink, but it really was a relief when he was wrong. "Thank you, Dr. Fairling. When do you think it would be best to start?"

"Hmm..." Dr. Fairling stopped and seemed to think for a moment. "Perhaps today. Since we already started with a lesson, I believe it might be good for us to start sooner rather than later."

Virgil was a bit surprised but he decided Dr. Fairling was right. It would be good to start earlier. However, he was already nervous about it. What if Dr. Fairling decided Virgil was too dumb to be helped? That he was helpless? It got too much to keep tapping out his heartbeat, so he switched to fidgeting with the sleeves instead, making sure to hide it under the table. "Alright. That sounds like a good plan. I'll come back here in an hour."

"Perfect." The professor nodded and then allowed Virgil to leave.

As Virgil left, he rubbed his throat, finding it a bit sore after talking so much when he usually didn't.

As Virgil left, Logan leaned back in his seat, tapping his pen against his chin. "Hmm..." He felt something unfamiliar but not unknown start to bloom. However, he just couldn't identify it. However, he did know that Virgil was already quite... intriguing.

-----

I will tag people if they want me to. I don’t really care how you ask, I’m not particular.

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shinneth · 4 years

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Gem Ascension Tropes (Chartreuse Diamond-specific: A - G)

Primary General Post ✰ Full Article ✰ Primary Peri Post

Affectionate Nickname: Trucy, by Amethyst.

Afraid of Her Own Strength: Starts out like this as White Diamond puts heavy emphasis on not going overboard with her powers. Somewhat justified, given the nature of her power, but it later makes Chartreuse subconsciously cap her own potential because of this.

Apologetic Attacker: There isn’t a single moment where Chartreuse truly enjoys attacking the Crystal Gems. Instead, it’s crushing guilt, remorse, and self-loathing.

Steven: “Why?! Why are you doing this?! I thought you were finally gonna help us!”

Chartreuse Diamond: “Trust me; this is hurting me way more than it’s hurting you. The sooner you give in, the sooner we can get this over with. I’m so done…”

Apologizes a Lot: To Steven in Chapter 4 of Act III. She does this so much. To be fair, she is mentally unstable because of White Diamond’s meddling and she’s pretty overwhelmed to actually see Steven for the first time in nearly a week (believing at this point she’d never see him again), while at the same time feeling so much shame of what she’s become. She gets better once Steven fixes her up, though Steven himself Lampshades this trope when he finds the missing piece of Peridot’s identity and tells her how the “incomplete” Peridot/Chartreuse behaves.

Becoming the Mask: Comes close to this in Chapter 3 of Act III when she’s cornered by the Crystal Gems and the constant threat of White Diamond makes her unable to just tell them all she’s really Peridot. When her friends start throwing slanderous statements at her for being a Diamond, Chartreuse is further convinced she’s beyond redemption and comes close to legitimately trusting White Diamond. This becomes promptly averted at the end of the chapter when Chartreuse’s Heel Realization is coupled with her seeing for herself that her dichotomy with White Diamond is literally no different from her dichotomy with Yellow Diamond as Peridot, despite now being on the same level as White.

Being Evil Sucks: She really hates having to treat the Crystal Gems like her enemies, especially when she hasn’t seen them in a week and never expected to see them again. She forces herself to regard her friends as enemies, knowing The Omniscient White Diamond could easily kill her or her friends if she doesn’t play the role White assigned to her. Tries to cope with this by settling for a Then Let Me Be Evil approach when she fears her friends won’t take her back as she is now, which almost works until White Diamond’s treatment of her blatantly parallels how Yellow treated Peridot.

Big Breast Pride: Doesn’t make a show of it, but the last question Peridot asks before she consents to becoming Chartreuse is if she can have a more mature body after ascending, implying some degree of A-Cup Angst. That would explain why she gained a much bigger bust size and curvier hips as Chartreuse.

Brown Note: The upgraded version of Peridot’s Death Wail in Chapter 8 of Act III. Chartreuse’s crying manages to shatter every establishment remaining on Homeworld, which includes vehicles. It isn’t long before her cries tear Homeworld’s atmosphere to shreds, and had she not been pacified by Pink Diamond 2.0, Chartreuse easily could have killed everybody – herself included – through this.

Comes Great Insanity: When she first comes into existence, she’s already mentally compromised due to sustaining the damage White inflicted on her mind as Peridot. The rush of power doesn’t help matters at all, which makes Chartreuse constantly doubt her thoughts and actions when she first meets the Crystal Gems. She’s mostly frozen with indecision, on the verge of a mental breakdown until White Diamond’s treatment of Chartreuse makes it obvious that she’s still being treated the same way she would have been treated as Peridot.

Compensating for Something: She is much taller than Peridot and even well-endowed to boot. Considering Peridot’s last wish was to not have the appearance of a “scrawny brat” anymore, Chartreuse’s appearance says it all in where Peridot’s insecurities lie.

Dangerously Short Skirt: Not only short, but translucent, so the skirt truly isn’t covering up anything at all. Thankfully, Chartreuse wears a leotard.

The Ditherer: A cross between the Wishy-Washy and Insecure/Submissive types. Due to getting Mind Raped by White Diamond just before she came into existence, Chartreuse was born without her mind fully intact. The shock of the ascension itself and the power that came with it became overwhelming as well, so it didn’t help that Chartreuse no longer had Peridot’s decisive stubbornness, or even her ability to say “no” to White Diamond. This made her incredibly indecisive and conflicted on how to act in Chapter 3 of Act III. As much as she wanted to throw caution to the wind and return to her friends immediately, White Diamond’s influence instilled a constant fear of her wrath or even the possibility of having her powers taken from her just as easily as they were given.

Does Not Know Her Own Strength: She clearly didn’t; otherwise Chartreuse wouldn’t have freaked out so badly after striking Garnet hard enough to not only break the fusion, but internally damage Ruby and Sapphire. This just reinforces her already-present issue of being Afraid of Her Own Strength.

Don’t Make Me Destroy You!: She attempts a Badass Boast at Steven and Garnet shortly after disabling their Sunstone fusion. For once, she actually can back this up; it’s more a matter of whether or not she can go through with it…

Chartreuse Diamond: “Do you understand what I’m capable of?! If I wanted you to shatter on the spot because I desired your death, you would be in pieces right now!”

Evil Costume Switch: Chartreuse’s outfit is at least risqué compared to Peridot’s, despite not showing that much more skin than Peridot’s outfit. The outfit itself even uses most of the same colors as Peridot’s outfit with a few exceptions; some colors are even lighter in shade. However, there’s nary a star to be seen on Chartreuse’s outfit, and it’s evident by the design that she reverted back to diamonds like Peridot’s original outfit.

Evil Sounds Deep: Her voice is similar, but distinct from Peridot’s. It’s described as being lower-pitched and lacking empathy. The latter detail likely didn’t stick past her introduction, as Chartreuse was going out of her way to put up an antagonistic front.

Excessive Evil Eyeshadow: It’s never directly said to be eyeshadow, but Chartreuse definitely looks like she’s wearing a heavy amount of it.

Eye Color Change: While Chartreuse had the foresight to hide her peridot gemstone from her friends when she first encounters them in Chapter 3 of Act III, it completely slipped her mind that Steven and Garnet know of her unique Mismatched Eyes that she retained from her Peridot form, and since she obviously isn’t a fusion, it’s a dead giveaway for her identity. A bit understandable, though, as Peridot/Chartreuse only recently learned of her true eye colors, and the fact that Garnet and Steven saw them a week ago is a detail that’s easily overlooked in light of the nature of their previous meeting (since Peridot at the time was sure she’d never see them again and/or would die soon afterwards). Once she takes out Garnet, she immediately covers her eyes while Cry Laughing over her screwed-up situation. When Chartreuse uncovers her eyes, they’re now uniformly green. This change doesn’t stick for long, though, as it dissipates early on by the next chapter.

Forced into Evil: After being Mind Raped into becoming more submissive and accommodating, along with the general side effects one would feel from six consecutive days of endless torture and wholeheartedly believing she would never see her friends again, Chartreuse was basically railroaded into this.

Glass-Shattering Sound: Peridot’s Death Wail becomes a Brown Note when she subconsciously shifts into Chartreuse. It not only shatters glass, but also crystal… and nearly everything else, as her sound waves render the Diamond Palaces and the entire Homeworld metropolis into mountains of broken shards. It also shatters Homeworld’s atmosphere.

Glowing Eyes of Doom: After settling down from her Cry Laughing due to Garnet figuring out who she really is due to her Mismatched Eyes, Chartreuse (who kept her eyes covered both to hide her tears and her eye colors) wills her eyes to change color so no one else will identify her as Peridot. The moment she uncovers her eyes, they’re a uniformly glowing neon green, and coincidentally, Chartreuse herself is on the verge of a Villainous Breakdown by this point.

Good All Along: Well, she’s just a Super-Powered Alter Ego of the Hero Protagonist, and it’s clearly seen that even as a Diamond, there’s no real inherent evil inside her.

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brittanythescrivener · 5 years

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Behind Trinity Lines - Chapter Three: Welcome to the Jungle

Tags: @embracetranquilityson, @eintausendschoen, @roxlovescommanderourke4ever

Cozumel, Mexico

It was early afternoon when Lara and Jonah arrived in Cozumel. The sun was shining, and the sky was bright blue with fluffy, white clouds. On the way into the village, Lara couldn’t help but marvel at the stunning scenery. White sandy beaches, turquoise blue waters, and vibrant green foliage surrounded them. Lara promised herself that once her business with Trinity was finally done she would take some time to just relax and enjoy life. She’d never been to Mexico before, but she already found herself quite fond of it.

“Where are we meeting your contact, Jonah?” Lara asked as the taxi came to a halt.

“A little place called La Casa Mexicana,” Jonah said. “I know the chef there.”

“Didn’t you eat on the plane?” Lara joked.

They exited the taxi, and Jonah led Lara toward a deserted courtyard. Lara immediately saw the darkened neon lights on the building ahead of them. La Casa Mexicana.

“There it is,” she said. “Let’s go.”

They were seated in a corner on the upstairs balcony overlooking the courtyard. They had only just ordered a round of drinks when Lara saw a short, heavily-built man in an apron and a ball cap approaching them.

“¡Oye, Jonah!” he called. “¿Cómo estás?”

Jonah stood and shook the man’s hand. “Lara, this is Hector Riviera.”

Hector joined them at the table, barely acknowledging Lara’s presence. She didn’t mind—she wasn’t exactly a people person anyway.

“You have some info for us?” Jonah asked.

“Dr. Dominguez has been searching for the entrance to a temple here for many years,” Hector said. “I think they are getting close. They have been bringing in more and more reinforcements.”

“Dr. Dominguez is here in Cozumel?” Lara asked. The name was familiar. She’d seen it in her father’s journals; they’d been friends before his death.

“No, I hear he is in Brazil right now. The man has fingers in many pies. The one in charge here is named Rourke. I’ve only seen him a handful of times, but he is a real pendejo.”

“So what is so important about this temple?” Lara asked.

Hector shrugged. “We do not know. Everything is very hush-hush.”

“Can you get us into the digs?” Jonah asked.

“Jonah, my friend, Dr. Dominguez and his men have been a great help to the people of this village, but they are not messing around. You need to be careful," Hector said. “All I can do is give you the locations."

“Is there anything else you can tell us?” Lara asked.

“I’ve had eyes on the dig closer to the city. I think that’s where their base camp is. I thought I had the front gate guard’s schedule down to a science, but they stuck a new guy up there today. A big guy with a creepy, scarred up face. Looks like he wants to strangle everyone he looks at.”

Jonah laughed. “Sounds about like Konstantin, doesn’t it, Lara?”

A wave of unease washed over Lara. She didn’t want to admit that the thought had already crossed her mind.

“I should get back to the kitchen,” Hector said. He pulled a piece of paper from his pocket and tossed it down onto the table. “I’ve written down the locations of all the dig sites. Good luck, my friends.”

Lara watched Hector leave the table, and she stared down at the bottle of beer a waitress had just placed in front of her.

“Something bothering you?” Jonah asked.

“What if Konstantin is here, Jonah?” Lara asked quietly.

“Don’t you trust him?” Jonah asked.

“I—I don’t know,” Lara muttered. “I want to trust him, but I’m not sure that I can.”

Jonah shrugged. “If he is here, there’s not much we can do about it . . . is there?”

Lara sighed. “I guess not.”

Jonah patted Lara’s shoulder and said, “Then don’t worry about it unless you have reason to. Let’s go back to the hotel and catch some sleep, and we’ll start checking out those dig sites tomorrow.”

“Sounds good,” she said. She pulled her cell phone from her pocket and said, “I’ll be right up.”

Lara unlocked her phone and started composing a message. K, we made it to Cozumel. Trinity is here in full force.

She sent the message and waited for the delivery notification, but it didn’t appear. Either his phone was off, or he was out of range. Konstantin always had his phone on, so Lara was once again hit with a wave of unease. If he really was there in Cozumel, she would find out sooner or later.

* * *

Trinity Base

Mobile, Alabama

Commander Rourke wandered across the airplane hangar with his hands stuffed in his pockets. They were set to leave for Mexico in a matter of minutes, and he was waiting for the rest of the team to board the chopper idling outside.

The night before, for the first time in almost three years, Rourke slept in his own house in his own bed, and it felt damn good. He had never considered himself to be much of a homebody—sometimes he had trouble remembering what home was even like—but he decided that at that point in his life, at thirty-seven years old, putting down roots was sounding better and better.

His patience with Dr. Dominguez was growing thin. Dominguez had sent him on a wild goose chase all over Central and South America since the botched mission to find the Divine Source, and after almost a decade in the Special Forces, he was growing weary with living out of a duffel bag. He was always moving around, living somewhere new with new, unfamiliar people.

Rourke thought of his family back in Providence. He hadn’t seen or spoken to them in nearly ten years. He had long been seen as the black sheep of the picture-perfect Rourke family, but he was virtually disowned and disinherited when he decided to leave the Army to join the ranks of Trinity.

Trinity had changed everything for Rourke. He was respected, even revered, for his accomplishments and was put in a position where he could use his talents and experience accordingly. He didn’t have anyone to impress or satisfy. He was able to create an identity for himself that he was pleased with.

He watched from afar as Jo entered the hangar cautiously. She too was dressed in Trinity’s standard-issue hot weather uniform. Despite the masculine cut of the combat fatigues she wore, she looked incredible. Her shirt was casually unbuttoned, and Rourke could see the tiny gold cross necklace she’d worn for as long as he could remember.

Her saw her face go white the moment she laid eyes on the black utility helicopter nicknamed Cardinal Two. He felt bad for a moment; she’d told him over a year ago that she was done with Trinity, and he pulled her back in despite everything that had gone on in Siberia.

When Rourke finally boarded the chopper and gave the order to move out, he sat down in the empty seat beside Jo. As they prepared for take off, he heard her draw in a deep breath as she stared at the seat directly in front of her.

“You okay?” Rourke asked as he buckled himself into his seat. He knew she wasn’t.

Jo shook her head. “The last time I was on one of these birds . . . it was crashing.”

She pulled her duffel into her lap and fished around inside it until she found a bottle of pills. She popped one into her mouth and clenched her eyes shut.

“What are those?” Rourke asked with concern.

“Benzos,” Jo muttered. “How long is this flight?”

“About four hours,” Rourke said.

“Fuck,” she said under her breath. “Jesus Christ, why did I agree to this?” Jo said.

Rourke reached toward her and offered her his hand.

Jo ignored his gesture and said, “I’m fine. I’m perfectly fine.”

She was clearly not fine.

The cabin rocked slightly as the chopper ascended, and Jo drew in a sharp breath. She grabbed Rourke’s still outstretched hand and clenched her eyes shut.

“You’re gonna be fine,” Rourke said.

Jo squeezed his hand tightly and said, “I will be so happy when this thing lands.”

“Jo, look at me,” Rourke said earnestly.

Jo slowly opened her eyes and turned to face him.

“You’re safe,” he reassured. “You’re not alone.”

Jo nodded her head slowly and turned her attention back onto the empty seat across from her.

“Hey,” Rourke said, “do me a favor and don’t throw up in my lap this trip.”

Jo groaned. “I’d almost forgotten about that. Thanks for reminding me.”

Rourke laughed softly. “No problem.”

“So what are we doing in Cozumel?” Jo asked, her voice still trembling.

“Dr. Dominguez is running a few digs on the island.”

“Dr. Dominguez?” Jo asked with surprise. “So this must be a pretty big deal for you and him both to be running things.”

Rourke sighed and rubbed his beard with his free hand. “Honestly, Jo? There aren’t many of us left. Croft has been a busy little bitch the past year.”

Rourke felt Jo bristle next to him at the mere mention of her name.

“So is that why you called me, too? Because there was no one else left?”

“No,” Rourke said. “I wanted you back.”

Jo met his eyes again.

“We used to be so close, and then with the Army and med school, we lost a lot of time.”

Jo gave him a small smile. “I see what you’re saying—in your long, convoluted way of putting it. I’ve missed you too.”

Rourke smiled to himself as Jo turned away from him again.

Jo closed her eyes and finally let herself relax in her seat. “So I hope this assignment is like 95% working on my tan and 5% actually treating patients.��

“I hope so, too,” Rourke said a little uneasily.

He knew that once they arrived in Cozumel Croft wouldn’t be far behind.

* * *

Cozumel, Mexico

Konstantin shielded his eyes from the scorching sun and wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. He was wearing heavy cargo pants and a tactical vest—far too many layers for the current weather in Mexico. He had only just arrived a few hours before, and he already didn’t appreciate being volunteered for watch in an open area during the hottest time of day. He supposed Rourke was punishing him by giving him all the duties no one else wanted to make some sort of an example out of him.

He was starting to get lightheaded from the heat, so he stripped off the vest, tossing it to the ground. Getting shot at that point would’ve been sweet relief from the damn heat. He rolled up his sleeves and wiped his face again. He sighed with irritation as he glanced down at his watch. He only had an hour left until someone else came to relieve him.

Konstantin was scanning the treeline, looking for anything interesting, when he heard footsteps approaching him. He turned to see a tall, very tan, and very well-groomed man in an officer’s uniform. His eyes dropped to the name patch on his chest. Winters.

Winters shielded his eyes from the sun and said, “Commander Rourke sent me to tell you that your backup got detained, so you’re going to have to stick it out a few more hours.”

Konstantin clenched his jaw and said, “Yes, sir.”

Winters smirked at him and said, “You got a problem with that, Miller?”

“No problem at all, Winters,” Konstantin said through gritted teeth.

“It’s Commander Winters,” he said smugly. “So I guess you won’t mind pulling a double, then?”

“Even better,” Konstantin said. He tightened his grip on his rifle to keep himself from taking a swing at him.

Winters’ radio crackled. “This is Rourke. Winters, I want all dig sites rigged with explosives. I don’t want anyone getting inside unless they’re supposed to be in there.”

Konstantin’s gut wrenched into a knot. He knew that Lara was probably already in Cozumel, and it was only a matter of time before she found her way into Trinity’s business. He hadn’t yet taken the time to consider what he would do if they crossed paths. He knew he was going to have to figure out where he stood with all of it before they found themselves face to face, or he knew it wouldn’t be pretty.

Konstantin watched Winters walk away and then turned his attention back to the gate. Just then it rolled open, and he found himself staring straight at her. It was Jo, staring right back at him, just as surprised as he was.

“Jo!”

Jo wrapped her arms around herself uncomfortably. “Konstantin.”

“How are you?”

“I’m well,” Jo said.

“How long have you been here?” Konstantin asked.

“I just got here a few hours ago,” Jo said.

“I had no idea you’d be here.”

A strained silence fell between them before Jo finally said, “Listen, I’d love to catch up, but I’m late for . . . a thing.”

She started to walk away, but Konstantin yelled after her. “You could’ve taken my calls! I’ve been trying to find you for months.”

Jo stopped and slowly turned to face him.

“I had no way of knowing if you were okay,” Konstantin said sternly.

Jo put her hands on her hips and cocked her head. “Why wouldn’t I be okay?”

He braced himself for her worst. “Maybe this isn’t the best time to talk about this.”

“This is the perfect time to talk about it since you brought it up, Konstantin. Where should I start?”

Konstantin stared at her blankly.

“You fucked Trinity’s Most Wanted. You forced me onto that chopper with you. You hit me. You put my life in danger.”

Konstantin frowned. “Jo, you are being overly dramatic about all of this.”

“I almost fucking died, Konstantin!” Jo shouted.

“I never meant to hurt you.”

Jo pointed her finger at him and said, “I was nothing but loyal to you for six years. I was always there for you, and I never asked for anything in return. I never bothered you with my problems. But I guess I was expecting too much to think that you’d show some loyalty to me. I loved you for six years, Konstantin. For six years. And you knew. But you didn’t give a shit. So, no, I didn’t take your calls because I thought it would be for the best that we don’t talk anymore.”

“Jo—.”

“Everything okay here?”

Konstantin and Jo both turned abruptly to see Rourke standing behind them.

Jo backed away from Konstantin and joined Rourke. “I was just leaving.”

Once they were out of earshot, Jo rounded on Rourke.

“So did you forget to mention that he would be here, or did you do it on purpose?” she demanded.

“I don’t know what went down between you two, but it must’ve been some serious shit.”

“Yeah, it was,” Jo said darkly.

“I didn’t tell you because I knew this is how you would react,” Rourke said with annoyance. “I’ll make sure you don’t have to deal with him again.”

“You better,” Jo said. She poked him in the chest and said, “Or I will rip your dick off and shove it so far up your ass that you’ll taste cock for the rest of your life.”

He smirked and said, “So . . . we still drinking tonight?”

Jo rolled her eyes and walked away.

#shadow of the tomb raider #lara croft #tomb raider fan fiction #konstantin #rourke #behind trinity lines

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neighbours-kid · 5 years

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Twelve's March

March was….a chaotic cluster-fuck of something that felt like two weeks tops. March went by fast. And also—wasn’t it just the beginning of the year? Wasn’t it just Christmas? Where’s all this time going?

Anyway, March was really weird. Full month of university, relatively full weekends I think, it just all felt weird and fast and I don’t even know what exactly I did all month. Well, except watch TV shows. Well, I say TV shows…I mean Doctor Who. And with that, I mean Matt’s arc with Clara, and all of Peter’s arc. Which you already know because I wrote a massive blog post about it, yelling incoherently about all sorts of things and not remotely making sense, I feel.

March was definitely a month defined by Doctor Who and specifically Peter Capaldi’s Twelfth Doctor, who I have come to love so much, I still don’t know how to wrap my head around it. I think I’m just gonna have to buy all the DVDs finally and just—watch it again. Because I have emotions and thoughts and ideas and these little bits of je ne sais quoi about so many things in relation to Peter’s wonderful wonderful performance. But I don’t want to spend too much time rambling on about him (again) and waste your time with that.

As I said, March was a full month of university. And honestly, it has sort of started to overwhelm me right now. With me being me and having extended one paper deadline to the end of February, and also fucking up one exam of the last term and having to retake that, I completely fell behind on all my actual work that I had to do for this term. There’s one class that I can’t attend but have to take, so I’m working through a book by myself, there’s another book for another course that I ordered way too late, and there’s so much reading that I should be doing and am not actually doing. So I’m totally behind on all things and I often find myself with books open and texts on my kitchen table, throwing highlighters around and post-it’s, trying to get it together, and just ultimately making more of a mess.

I am very glad Easter holidays are coming up soon so I have time to catch up with that (of course only if I don’t have to work during that week, which somehow might actually happen).

I also started a new minor this term—theology—(and finally finished art history—never have to do art history ever again!!!!), so that is also a bit of a challenge, though I do feel a lot better about it than I did about art history. It’s really interesting and I’m learning a lot of cool stuff, and I’m actually pretty good at being present in class and taking notes, so at least there’s that. Funny thing is: my theology courses are incredibly affirming of my gender identity and my plans for the future, and a lot of the things I learn support my own views, which is really great.

Another thing that’s really cool this term, is that I’m trying to hang out in our English department’s tea corner more often, eating lunch there (now that I actually have time to eat lunch on some days), and just trying to socialise more with people. And it’s great! I’m having a lot of lovely conversations with a lot of lovely people, and I think it’s really good for me to do that and just to try and be more open.

And honestly, I really like being at university currently? I have a cool group of friends, I’m having a really great time and learning a lot of cool and interesting things (mostly. There’s some rubbish introduction courses that I have to take now). But my problem is, that as soon as I sit in my tram home, as soon as I enter my apartment, I am just flat out exhausted. I am so done. Which is also why I rarely actually get any work done at home currently, because all I really do is maybe eat something small and then fall into bed to maybe watch an episode or two of something and then go to sleep.

On that note: Daylight savings time was just last weekend here, and it completely fucked over my internal clock. Like, the day before that, I went to bed at like 1.30AM because I was reading fanfiction (later more on that), and got up very easily the next day even before 10AM. Daylight savings? I went to bed, I think, only a bit after 11PM and had to get up at 7.30AM, and I was absolutely knackered. I immediately dozed off again as soon as I turned off the alarm and it nearly cost me my entire day because I had to catch a train. And it’s still not back to normal, I still have issues every morning getting up. I hope it gets better soon, once I have a day to just sleep in without an alarm and get up whenever I actually wake up. I have hope that this is gonna work.

But now: fanfiction! I’m not sure if I’ve talked about this on here before, but I was big on fanfiction a few years back, mostly in my BBC Sherlock time. And before that too, I think, way back when I first started really getting into Naruto in a more intellectual way than just watching it on TV. But that was when I was like….in sixth grade, or something like that. But I was huge on fanfiction for a long time, and I think together with falling off of the Sherlock train after that last season, I also stopped really engaging with that part of fandom. But now, thanks to my binging of Doctor Who I have absolutely fallen down that rabbit hole again. It’s just such a great thing, isn’t it? People creating massive, massive amounts of, essentially free work. Just to express this joy and this love for a thing and to share it with others. It’s amazing.

(Short side-note here: Did you know, Archive of Our Own, one of the biggest fanfiction sites, was nominated for a fucking Hugo Award? In its entirety? Making, effectively, over 4.5 MILLION pieces of fanfiction Hugo Award-nominated literature, and, with over 1.8 MILLION users, making many of those Hugo Award-nominated authors? It’s fucking brilliant. What a time to be alive!)

What else did I do in March? I’m sort of blanking, because this month went by so fast. Lemme think….

I went to see Captain Marvel opening night (which was, officially, Men’s Night, which we crashed, because we wouldn’t usually support such sexist events, but it was Captain Marvel), and then again a bit later one more time, and it was great, just really fantastic. Carol is right up there as one of faves now. Also, Jude Law was hot.

On that film note, I obviously watched some stuff this month again and tried to make notes of it. Six movies (well five, but one twice), 64 episodes of TV (50 of which being Doctor Who), and a bunch of shorts starring David Tennant. Aside from Captain Marvel I think the movies I liked best this month were Bad Samaritan (2018) and Fright Night (2011), both also starring David Tennant, which is why I watched them. Fright Night was great fun, Colin Farrell was a fantastic, sexy vampire, and David’s vampire hunter/Las Vegas magician act was just hilarious. I love how much of a coward he was, ultimately. What a fantastic vampire movie, really funny. Also, Anton Yelchin was in it, and I just realised how much I miss him and what a shame it is that he died so young. He was a great kid and a fantastic actor.

Bad Samaritan was also really cool. I had wanted to watch it for a while, since it came out actually, because David was in it, and because Dean Devlin directed and produced it, and I really adore his work (Leverage and The Librarians, anyone?) I was always a bit hesitant though, because I’m not very big on films that are too horror-y and gory, so I always pushed it off. But I’m very glad I finally saw it, because it was truly more of a thriller and not a horror movie. Fantastic story, the acting was brilliant (DT as a villain? Come on! So good.), the tension and suspense was absolutely incredible. Really a great movie, you should all watch it.

I’m sure there’s other things that I did in March that would be worthwhile to mention (was at my dad’s, visited my mom, went shopping with a friend), but I’m really sort of hazy about all the details and I honestly can’t be bothered to write more right now.

Anyway, I’m having a bit of a break soon—going to Lugano for four days with a friend—so I can hopefully relax a little and recharge my batteries for April.

Talk to you guys soon! Bye.

#march #captain marvel #david tennant #fright night #bad samaritan #doctor who #peter capaldi #matt smith #12th doctor #university #blog post #text post #monthly blog #update #long post

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willxcapulet · 5 years

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Job Application

Parties: Zia Romano & Will Capulet

Events: Zia applies to work at the tattoo parlour

Date: Last week sometime

@ziaxromano

Zia:

Bouncing on her toes, Zia had done her best to look decent and elegant. A soft pastel blue dress reaching her to her knees, a white coat over, and her face just lightly decorated with makeup, but nothing too extreme. Really, she had done her best to look like one of the porcelain dolls one could find in a doll store. Nervous she had her resume in hand, and knocked on the door to the tattoo studio, remembering how he had told her that it was technically closed, but he would be in to do some paperwork. Really, she hadn’t expected to be allowed to come in on such a short notice either, yet there she stood, nervous. What if she didn’t get the job, because she didn’t belong to the same family as him? Or because she had been someone who misbehaved when she was younger? He had said that it shouldn’t be what kept her from getting it, but really, you never knew. Yet, she could be in luck, and be allowed to at least start working there.

Will:

Frankly they were in desperate need of a new receptionist. It had been ages since they had anyone decent. So Will was hopeful when the girl messaged him. He had the invoices spread out on the break room table when he heard the tap at the door. He walked through and tugged it open. “Hi there. Come on in.” he greeted before closing the door behind her and throwing the lock behind her. “So I’m Will Capulet. I’ve recently taken over as manager here so I’m kinda drowning a bit in paperwork.”

Zia:

Oh thank God, he was actually there! Her heart could finally calm down as the redhead came out and allowed her to come into the studio, and she nodded her head. “Hello sir, thank you for inviting me.” She told him, her voice gentle as she spoke. She really, really needed to get this job. Somewhere to spend her time, which was not in Indros place, and, would get her a bonus point with Silvius. After all, he seemed to tolerate her more than Celeste did. “Oh that’s stressful. Hopefully I can help more with that, than cause more struggles with it, if you’d like me here at least. Anyways, I brought my resume, but if you have any questions, please do ask me anything about it Sir.”

Will:

Will gestured to the seating area just behind reception as he accepted her resume. “Thank you.Have a seat while I have a look.” he murmured as he read it over. “So why the gap? What was going on there? Travel or something?” he asked curiously as he picked up his pen and made a few notes in the margin.

Zia:

“Yes sir.” She nodded her head before making her way over to the seating area. Taking the coat off, she folded it together before laying it over her lap, her hands resting carefully on top of it. “Well, I am as said a Romano, and we have this…” How to explain it the best. “Institution of sorts, where we get sent if we are struggling a bit with behaviors. Sort of like a boarding school, for submissives, where we work and help out at a farm.” She explained, taking a deep breath. “I spent eight months there, due to some behavioral issues I used to have, with a bit too much extreme behaviors during parties, which made my family figure it was best to send me there to learn how to control myself better, and now I was allowed to come back out into the big world.” She hoped at least it wouldn’t ruin her chances to work there. She was being honest at least.

Will:

Will nodded as she started to speak, a few notes started and then stopped. “Seriously? You have like … behaviour rehab?” He was a little incredulously. He’d never heard of such a thing before. “Do you have … like issues of control? Like stealing or something?” That was a real concern for Will. If he couldn’t trust her, they couldn’t work here. Obviously.

Zia:

“Yeah, you can pretty much consider it that. But it is only for the submissives, it’s not for the dominants. Though sometimes you have submissives who are there, because it is the safest place for them.” She told him with a nod of her head. Though at his question she had to shake her head. “Oh absolutely nothing like stealing or anything. It was more, getting drunk during family gatherings, not really caring about whether or not people saw my underwear while I was dancing, and the final straw was me jumping off a roof, and into a pool. So no, it’s nothing criminal, it was purely just me having far too much energy with no shame in my body.”

Will:

“Huh? Wow. I’ve never heard of anything like that before. Sorry. I’m not trying to be judgy or anything.” Will replied with a shrug. “Okay … okay good. Well I have to admit that wouldn’t have gone over well at one of my family parties either. Sounds like you’d fit right in with the Montagues.” Then he laughed, “Okay so. How are you with computers?”

Zia:

“It’s perfectly fine, I judge that institution plenty myself, so it’s no worries.” The blonde told him with a small smile on her lips, honestly not having an issue with him minding the Aunties. “Well, I was young and quite… Well, you know how kittens are when they get those bursts of energies? That was me, but in well a human form.” She told him with a laugh in return, able to laugh at her own mess ups. “I am perfectly fine with those, sir. They’re not what I exist for, but I am perfectly comfortable with them.”

Wil:

Will burst into laughter at the description. He couldn’t help but think that his sister, Posey, would have been similar. Her shenanigans were legendary. But she was getting more together and responsible every day. He was super proud of how she had grown and he couldn’t help but think such a place would have squashed all the fun and interesting pieces of his sister. “Good good. So the position I am hiring for is reception. It does mean taking payment, handling clients, booking appointments and dealing with the rest of us. It isn’t glamorous but the pay is okay. So saying all that, what do you think would be your least favourite part of the job?”

Zia:

The fact that she made him start laughing, hoping that was at least a good sign. Though, how could it possibly be anything but a good sign? After all, it did mean that he found her fun at least. “I think I could handle dealing with the rest of you guys, after all I’m not an easily intimidated girl.” She told him with a bright grin. Though at his question, she tapped her chin, pretending to think for a moment. “To refrain from booking monthly appointments for new tattoos myself? I don’t think my brother would like it very much if I came home tattooed from head to toes suddenly.”

Will:

Will glanced down at his own well-covered arms, “I wouldn’t know.” he deadpanned in response. “You do get a discount by the way. What kinds of jobs have you had before? Or if not jobs, tell me about a time you were put to work and you accomplished something you were proud of?” he asked seriously.

Zia:

“Oh don’t mention the discount, I already have ideas for my other shoulder, sir. I have so many I want.” She said with a laugh, the blonde hair bobbing up and down around her face. “I used to help out at my elementary school with keeping the younger kids occupied during school breaks, and I also used to help out during sunday school in the church my family belonged to back in Ragusa. But at the farm I did mostly anything I got put to do. From cleaning up from the animals, to helping with painting walls, to helping with cooking meals to anything honestly. I like working and feeling useful, so honestly I am not too shy for any kind of task.”

Will:

Will just laughed, “This place is not a good influence when it comes to tattoos… you’ll want more and more. We also do piercings when needed.” He murmured in reply, “Okay … so busy is good. This place is busy. We are hiring for another artist as well. But our reception is becoming an issue. We have one person right now but she is getting claimed soon and wants more and more time off. I suspect after the ceremony, she is going to resign.” He shrugged lightly, “He’s quite traditional. Anyway, so I need, well we need, someone who can handle the desk so we can, you know, do our work.”

Zia:

“Oh don’t say that, you’re going to corrupt me into getting piercings too!” She giggled in response, unable to keep the smile from her face. “Busy is perfect, means there’s no time to get into trouble, and means I’ll actually use up all the energy I have. Though yeah… If she’s already asking for more and more time off, it would make sense if she would resign after the ceremony.” She agreed with a nod, feeling hopeful about this job. “I think I could handle it, and just also remind you all about drinking some water every now and then, as I know I at least often forget about that when I disappear deep into projects myself.”

Will:

“Sounds good. Listen we’re a bit desperate. “So I could continue. However, the fact is, we really need someone to start right away in January. Like January 2nd. So would you be willing to come in and do a few training days between now and then? Learn our booking system, how our till works and all that? See if you like it?”

Zia:

A brow raised as he offered her the job, and she nodded her head excited. “Yes, happily! Like… Yes? No doubt, at all. I am not going back to Ragusa for the holidays, so I am available more or less any day you want me to come in, sir. Oh god, thank you so much!”

Will:

“Okay then. Ummm…. Here are the forms to fill in. Identity number and tax forms for the family and all that.” he murmured as he passed over the forms. “Just bring them in … like next Thursday? You can come in for the day, see what it is like?” Will continued as he nodded. “Listen. If you end up not liking it… that’s cool. But I really hope you do. We could really use the help.”

Zia:

Zia could not help but be incredibly excited, both by how this had gone, but also by the fact that she could now say she actually managed it all on her own. No one in her family had fixed this for her, it wasn’t like anyone had made a call for her. It was all her own doing. “I will ask Lord Silvius to check over it so that you won’t have to worry about any numbers to be wrong.” She told him with another nod of her head. “I hope I’ll like it here too, it seems like a place I would like at least. So really, thank you for the chance, sir. I hope to impress and not disappoint.”

Will:

“Cool cool.” Will agreed with a nod. “Listen, everyone here is pretty chill and it may seem casual. This many tattoos and piercings and all that. However … this is our job and we love it. We work hard and treat our clients well. There is no dress code or anything. We want people to feel comfortable. Front desk is kind of … the face you know. So you just have to make sure people feel respected and welcome. No matter the designation or what they look like. Come with that in mind and you’ll be just fine.”

Zia:

She continued to nod her head, unable to keep from it. She was just so excited, so eager to finally get to show what she could do. To do something on her own. “Of course, I don’t really care what people look like. I know I look like a barbie doll almost at times, but trust me, that is nothing to do with what I think about how others dress, it’s just for my own sake.” Mostly so she remembered to not mouth off her own family. “I’m very firm in the belief that everyone deserves a chance, or ten. So don’t worry about that, I generally come with the mindset that anyone I meet could be a potential friend.”

Will:

“I like that attitude.” Will replied with a light shrug, “My claim is the same. Beautiful so people forget she’s also brilliant. It can be frustrating but we’ve given tattoos to everyone from punk kids to first designation to hollywood celebs. So this place is all about taking care of each other. The other artists are awesome. You’ll see my claim Ginny around. My cousin Daisy owns the florist shop not to far away. We’re all pretty cool around here. You know? I think you’ll like it.”

Zia:

“Yeah, people have a tendency to forget that beautiful people also have a brain, but it just makes it so much more fun when you can tell them something they did not already know.” She said, smiling to the man sitting ahead from her. “Yeah? I think that sounds pretty great. I still remember how it was to get the tattoo for my designation and how terrifying that was, so hopefully I can help bring peace to people who have nerves when they come here.”

#zia romano #google doc para

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cloudbattrolls · 6 years

Text

The Path of Most Resistance

Jastes Verdan || 9.5 sweeps || Civitrecce || Present Night

Your claws change and harden into steel, allowing you to cut extremely thin, careful lines around the control panel. They’re hardly a millimeter deep; not enough to trigger its alarms. One day the factory might improve their security, but you’ve always kept a careful eye on their sensors; they’re surprisingly careless about so-called minor damages.

“Move it, pal.” says the voice in your earbug. “The others are plenty busy, but that’s going to be worthless if you don’t goddamn manage!”

Xineck only used one cussword, so you have at least five minutes.

You take out four small gray capsules, your breathing mask firmly in place. It’s technically a cocoon, but nobody likes to be reminded they’re wearing a bug in their nostrils.

You barely give it any thought as you turn your hand back to flesh slowly, precisely attach each of them in front of the four lines of the box shape you made around the panel and then quickly press sealant onto them. The quick-hardening adhesive will not only provide a temporary disguise, but will also seal in the degeneration agent from the capsules as they burst and ensure their acid eats away until it reaches the control box’s inner workings.

It’s a shoddy job. If you were grading someone else on this, you’d give them a four out of ten.

A stream of profanity issues from the earbug, but you’re already heading for your exit.

A great deal of shouting and thundering feet - the factory’s security - go by as you pass, then stop and turn around.

“Hey!”

You appear slightly apprehensive as they catch up to you.

“Yeah?”

“What’re you doing out of the column? It’s still your shift!”

“Oh.” You look vaguely surprised and pluck at the uniform that became yours as of tonight, and will leave your possession again very shortly. “Look, I...”

A burly bronze girl waves her hand irritably. “You know what? I don’t want to hear it. Let’s just write you up so the boss can deal with it.”

You make half-hearted noises of protest as she goes over you with a handheld scanner and registers your implanted ID chip in for disciplinary action the following night.

You feel sorry for the girl whose face and identity you’ve stolen for a bit. The worse crime is probably her slightly altered memories from a few quick slips into her wetware.

“Hey.” The bronze girl adds, even though the other guards have shuffled off. “I’m just doing my job, y’know? I’ll treat you tomorrow night. You like ice cream, right? I know a place.”

Your pumper skips a beat as you blink in surprise, but you figure that wouldn’t be out of character for this girl.

“That sounds cool.” You say, the hesitant new helm glad and wary to receive such sympathy from someone far higher-ranking.

She nods, and then walks off.

You continue to the front door and let yourself out, obediently typing in your clockout number. Then you go to her hive (its cameras are currently being fed a series of loops pieced together from old footage and its microphones’ ranges have been reduced), turn metal, rearrange your features, and return to your organic state again with your own face intact.

You’re just doing your nose when Xineck struts in and nearly gives you a pumper attack, not that you show it. He’d enjoy that way too much.

“Everything’s peachy.” He drawls. “Girl hasn’t got a clue what happened, and it looks exactly like a rival messing with their junk. You did such a shit job that they’ll have no problem pinning it on amateurs like GrubTech. ”

“I thought it was only sort of bad.” You say mildly. “She’s a kid; I thought I did pretty good as an amateur.”

The maroon snorts, elbowing you in your side. “You’d think we got our ideas from b-list movies. Did you really have to waste four capsules of that shit? It’s not cheap.”

“I had to look anxious and tryhard.” You say, delicately inflected to suggest the possibility that those are things he’s quite familiar with.

“I’m gonna cut you some night just for the hell of it. Will I throw up? Yeah. It’ll feel good later, though.”

You finally flush slightly yellow, and Xineck grins with as many sharp teeth as his lusus. Totally against the style for a burgundy, but he’d rather swallow live earwigs than file them or get surgery.

He’s the one troll who knows what you can do, and thus your weaknesses. A more pragmatic troll would have had him culled for that. Sometimes you wish you weren’t so sentimental.

The rest of the group knows you’re a psiionic, but many just assume you have illusion-based powers and access to expensive tools, or secretly prosthetic limbs under your skin.

You’re as flesh and blood as any troll; it just happens to be optional.

You look away.

“A guard was kind to her.”

“Big whoop.” He says idly, cleaning under his claws with a knife.

“She deserved to be there for that.”

“You going to go write down your feels, buddy? That guard would still shove her into a column with a whistle and a wave. Her kind are sellouts. Put your thinkpan back in your skull, the others’re getting the taxi and restoring the apartment’s stuff.”

People who aren’t Xineck sound incredibly appealing right now, and you brighten up.

He laughs at you, but at least the job is done and you can, very slightly, relax.

#cloud writes #Resistance #Civitrecce #and intro done!#their dialogue is specifically kind of vague #because even though they're very carefully about disabling or fooling recording devices they know of #they also know it's easy to be fooled or miss things #so they minimize the risk

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chibioniyuri · 6 years

Text

So, I wanted to share my current medical status with y’all, but only if you want to actively read it, so I’ll be throwing it behind a cut. Plus it’s pretty long. So there’s that.

So, I have a brain tumor.

Only, technically not. It’s within the skull but outside the dura mater, the protective membrane around your brain itself. So, technically not a brain tumor.

But let’s start from the beginning.

Starting around summer of last year, my grandmother was in and out of the hospital. Falling without being able to get up on her own, leading her to spend the entire night sitting on the floor waiting for someone to visit her because the phone was out of reach. Pneumonia extending her hospital stay. Getting home and refusing the home health care my uncle and aunt set up for her. Falling again. Repeat.

Around August-ish, my aunt was cleaning her apartment for her and found pain killers stashed all over the apartment. In bottles. Free pills on her walker. Next to the phone, in the kitchen, in the bathroom, stashed in both nightstands. Turns out she’d been asking nearly everyone who visited her to bring her bottles “because she was running low.” Including us. We could get large bottles of Excedrin from Sam’s Club for cheaper than were available in her country. We’d bring over two extra large bottles. We didn’t think anything of it; our visits were spaced roughly four years apart. But concurrently, some tests were showing the beginning stages of liver and kidney damage that could be caused by self-medicating in the way my grandmother was.

Cut to me. “Wa-oh,” says I.

For like two and a half years, that I could remember, I’d been having trouble sleeping. Beyond the normal, that is. Taking over an hour to fall asleep, sleeping roughly three hours at a time, eventually needing to take naps on my days off just to function safely on my work days. I didn’t think much of it at the time. I was finishing school. Looking for a house. Moving back into my parents’ house so I wouldn’t have to break a lease when I finally found “the one.” Exposing myself back to my dad’s special brand of tough love. I figured it was just stress, and that it would go away when things were less hectic.

They didn’t.

Right around April of last year, my headaches starting spiking. Again, I didn’t think much of it. For most of my life, I’ve dealt with headaches. I’ve become a pro at the art of ignoring the headache away. But suddenly, I was having migraine-level headaches, frequently. I explained it away as lack of sleep. This was about a year and a half into the lack of sleep saga. It seemed reasonable to me. And I was more concerned about the nearly-falling-asleep-while-driving and the crying on the way to work and the endless feeling of “I don’t want to be here anymore.”

But these new headaches were debilitating. So... I started self-medicating. A lot.

I really should have been more aware; I mean, as a medical professional, there were so many red flags. But nothing like that could ever happen to me, right? I was just weak. Attention-grabbing. I just needed to suck it up and get back to work. My dad, after all, had never taken a sick day in twenty years, even if he was sick. He’d had some baaaad headaches, too, and he just powered through. I needed to do the same.

My grandmother was a wake-up call for me.

I finally convinced myself to do something about it September of last year. I thought it was just my thyroid. It controls so many things: your sleep cycle, your metabolism, your temperature regulation. My doctor initially agreed with me, and blood tests corroborated it. My thyroid hormone was low.

Something must have niggled at my doctor though, because she ordered more tests. Then more. First blood tests. I was stuck so many times, it was ridiculous. I counted 9 vials in one sitting, which.... personally, is a record. I can’t speak about the standard levels for anyone else. Then an ultrasound of my thyroid. Nothing too abnormal. Some nodules that were enlarged, but nothing alarming. An MRI of my brain. Just a precaution, she said. Some of my medical history meant that she wanted to fully rule some things out.

I had my MRI on a Wednesday. That Friday, her nurse called me. Said that my doctor wanted to talk to me about my results. That I should just name a time that day and she would make sure it was available.

Oh shit.

I called my mom. I remember thinking that I wasn’t reacting the way I thought someone who received bad news should. I was acting like I had a particularly juicy piece of gossip. Jovial, almost.

“Hey mom,” I said. “That thing I was joking about, back when she first mentioned the MRI? Tumors and cancer? The thing I said wouldn’t happen to me? Pretty sure she found it.”

“What?”

“Her nurse just called. Told me to name a time I can come in today. Whatever time, and it would be available. That only happens with bad news, right? She found it. Mom, I have a brain tumor.”

My mom told me that I had to hear the actual words from my doctor’s mouth before I could worry. And that if it was real, we would deal with it. And that I should call my dad so he could come with me.

So I did. He told me roughly the same thing, that I couldn’t be sure until the doctor said it herself. And that I should schedule it so my mom could go with me.

“I scheduled it for roughly an hour from now.”

“Oh. I guess your mom can’t go with you, then.”

No mention of him going. I was too afraid to ask.

I found out later that he had already started drinking and was too afraid that someone would figure it out. He’s the type of alcoholic that feels like, since he named himself an alcoholic, that’s it, kumbayah, crack open a cold one, but instinctively lies to medical professionals about his level of intake. He excused it away by saying he wasn’t really an emotionally supportive guy anyway, and he didn’t offer because he didn’t think I wanted him there. Plus, he said, he would’ve started crying and that’s not being emotionally supportive. I agree that he would’ve. I also think he fell into a mild depressive state because his employer declared bankruptcy and he was without the job he’d worked at since being honorably discharged from the military in 1995 and was having an identity crisis because so much of his personal identity is tied up into his work, and without it, he’s nothing. But you’re not here to read about my analysis of my dad.

So I sat alone in that room while my doctor told me I had a tumor on my pituitary gland. That it was pretty large and probably the cause of a lot of the lethargy and difficulty sleeping. That I should let her know if I start having headaches.

“I’ve got those,” I said.

“You didn’t mention it to me?”

“No. I mean, I’ve had them since puberty, really. They were more frequent, recently, but I thought it was the not sleeping thing.”

She made sure I walked out with a referral to the neurosurgeon in my hand and advised me to call him right away. Well, as soon as my insurance cleared.

Since October, I’ve struggled to feel it was real. I’ve sort of stepped aside from it, I guess. I’ve viewed it as one of those interesting case studies from nursing school. “Mary’s MRI results show a 2cm growth on her pituitary gland. Her growth hormone levels are __. She complains of headaches, lethargy, insomnia, and weight gain. What nursing diagnoses would apply to this case? What interventions would you consider implementing?”

I’ve analyzed my reactions and compared them to the stories I’ve read, fictional and anecdotal, about others dealing with serious medical issues and found myself lacking. I’ve thought of how I would write this situation. Definitely dread, I decided. Fear. Worry. A sense that suddenly, the world is crashing down around you. And alternately, a sort of freeing feeling. Suddenly, you can go out into the world and really live like it’s your last day.

And then I looked at my bank account. I looked at my insurance paperwork. I decided that I couldn’t afford the surgery to remove it until next year. Definitely couldn’t take the time off to process it. Gotta make that money, pay those bills.

“You’re so strong,” one of my fellow nurses tells me. I want to tell her I’m not. I’m just incredibly aware that I’m financially precarious and that I can’t afford anything else. And it’s so much easier to fall into routine and focus on caring for someone else. Avoidance at its best.

So why am I sharing this all of a sudden?

My surgery is in less than two weeks: April 4. And it’s definitely real now.

Suddenly, all that stuff that I imagined writing is happening to me. The closer that date crawls, the worse I feel. At first, it was mild concern. It’s approaching absolute terror now, though.

I’m about to let someone send some tools up my nose, poke around in my brain, and remove some bits of myself that have gone renegade. I’ll be in the ICU in case of complications. I’ll need someone with me for a while afterwards, when I finally get discharged. I have absolutely no idea how I’ll pay for it, considering my credit card has wracked up a truly impressive balance due to my car breaking down last year, and then all the lab work, diagnostic tests, and specialist visits, which let me tell you, are a special sort of expensive hell. Add on my mortgage and my student debts, and I squeak by every month. I’ll probably pick up a second job to help out with whatever costs I accrue.

One good thing about this is that my dad has stopped asking me “do you want mine?” when I mention I have a headache. But now he’s joking that I’ll be in the hospital for ages because, “I hate to say it like this, but you don’t do so well with the pain thing.” Fuck you.

The truly good thing: my brother got leave from the Air Force to come home for a week. We haven’t seen him since last July, when he came home for our it’s-been-four-years-time-to-go-to-Germany trip. I’m so happy about that, I could cry. I probably will before this whole thing is over.

So, there you go. The full update.

I’ll probably be typing more things up to work through this. Typing all this out has been oddly cathartic.

#personal #personal medical stuff #K's brain things

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spideyxchelle · 7 years

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So not sure if ur actually doing headcanons but I want one where MJ is Midtowns BAMF. Like she gets arrested in protests and punches Nazis in the face and she ain't got time to do makeup and dress pretty because she's raising money to get young black girls through school. Like, she's the real life superhero and Peter is the romantic interest, but also she's incredible smart and help Pete with issues in his suit not even Tony Stark figures out. Just badass MJ

MJ is bamf, okay?? like, we only get maybe (and I’m being generous here) 10 minutes of her in the whole movie but I know and you know and we all know that she is the most boss-ass bitch at Midtown. LEMME TELL YOU ABOUT IT-

so MJ in middle school was crazy popular

she was the girl™ and pretty much everybody (girls, boys) had their first crushes on her. she was pretty, smart and admittedly a bit of a conformist….so everything that was cool was what MJ did and no one was better at being popular than MJ…

then, in 2013 George Zimmerman is acquitted for the murder Trayvon Martin and MJ isn’t interested conforming anymore. BECAUSE BLACK LIVES MATTER and she’s a black woman and the system she’s been conforming to, the system that makes her “popular”, isn’t a system that supports her and her culture and just like that MJ is Queen’s resident intersectional feminist

she stops wearing makeup (not because makeup inherently is anti-feminist but because she only wore it to fit in and that’s some bullshit) and wears clothes that her grandmother wore to Civil Rights marches in the 1960s and she feels, for the first time, like herself

and she stops being social because not because she’s an asshole and doesn’t like people but because she has SO MUCH TO CATCH UP ON, OKAY?! she spent years not fighting for her rights and the rights of all women and the right of LGBTQ+ people and sexual assault survivors/victims and every minority group ever. and she needs to know. she needs to learn. and she needs to do it now.

their entire freshman year of high school people still flock to MJ because she’s MJ and she’s amazing. and even though, basically overnight, she’s dedicated her life to something beyond being popular in high school she’s still MJ. and, frankly, the fact that she’s a protest babe is fascinating to stupid fourteen year olds

MJ thinks its stupid. she doesn’t go to protests to be cute, okay??? its serious business because this country is some bullshit and systematic oppression isn’t going to be fought against in Washington so she’ll fight for it in the streets.

she marches in every march she can manage, from marches for science to planned parenthood to pride month to BLM to marches for immigration. EVERYTHING.

the first time she gets arrested its in the midst of Trump mania during the 2016 election season. a group of racists form downtown with their racist signs and their RACIST chants. and she joins the small coalition of people that protest their little racist hoedown. a guy with a stupid red hat calls her the n word and crudely tells her where she can put her “liberal mouth”

….

she absolutely decks him in the face AND EVERYTHING TURNS INTO A FULL ON BRAWL. and she gets arrested and is kept overnight. her brother bails her out first thing in the morning and when she asks what took him so long, he tells her that he’s been dealing with reporters outside their house all night because SOMEONE went viral.

that someone is MJ.

and she’s hella pleased.

when she gets to school that day everybody is looking at her like she is the most fabulous person to ever exist and while she doesn’t agree, she thinks Maxine Waters holds that title, it feels nice to be appreciated for something besides how “pretty” she is. for the first time she feels like her classmates see her beyond the #fade of protesting. they see how serious she is about changing the world, about making a difference.

and so sophomore year she starts going to parties. she, like, doesn’t interact with people much (again, she has a lot of reading to do) but she’s there. because midtown kids aren’t the shitty majority, they’re diverse and woke and kind of cool. eh. not as cool as her, tho.

MJ gets arrested a few more times (all for the greater good) and the myth of Michelle Jones only seems to grow at Midtown. like everybody has their version of crazy things MJ did. some of which are true, some of which aren’t. she low-key enjoys during lunch listening to people at surrounding tables talk about her like she’s a superhero.

“I heard MJ met Hillary Clinton and told her she’s too moderate” “well I heard she was at the Women’s March in DC and came up with the chant we reject the president elect” “well I heard she started working with the New York Philharmonic to bring their musicians into homeless shelters and prisons to give underprivileged people access to music” “well I heard she’s punched like fifteen Nazis”

and some of the rumors are true, some aren’t. but she never clarifies which are which. she sort of enjoys being more legend than teenager.

BUT THEN stuff at Midtown goes really weird. like her teammates almost die at decathlon in DC and Liz’s Dad gets arrested and she’s made team captain. and Peter Parker is definitely hiding something.

not that she cares because she’s got money to raise for young black girls’ education and charities to volunteer for that house homeless LGTBQ+ youth that were kicked out by their homophobic families

basically, she’s got better things to worry about then the fact that Peter Parker is definitely up to something

she finds out he’s a superhero completely by accident

she’s at a rally against Trump (which, honestly, feels like all she does lately because this orange cheeto is always doing something abysmal) and some a-hole tries to set off a bomb to attack the protesters. before he can hurt anybody, tho, SPIDER-MAN shows up and saves the day.

and Parker is such a moron he doesn’t even try and change his voice when he’s on the job. like, Parker…get better at your job, man. she KNOWS what his voice sounds like and Spider-man is definitely Peter.

the next day at school she sits by him and lunch and everyone in the cafeteria gets SILENT. because OMG WHY IS MICHELLE JONES sitting with Peter Parker? like, she’s a goddess and he’s kind of a loser. what’s happening????

she jots down a note and slides it to him. its simple. gets straight to the point- “I know you’re Spider-man” and Peter’s eyes to HILARIOUSLY big. like, he can’t even believe that she figured it out. but, uh, she’s way smarter than him so of course she did.

and, its weird, but they slowly become friends after she knows his secret. they do their homework together and Peter starts to go to marches with her. she doesn’t invite him, he just kind of shows up hoping to see her. and she SUPPOSES if she’s going to have a love interest (because, um, he may have super powers but she’s the one that’s going to change the world one day so he’s definitely her love interest) Peter isn’t a terrible one to have

he even gets her an audience with Tony Stark who she basically commands to throw some money at charities that need support right now in this weird dystopian Trump era of human existence

and after that meeting MJ gives Peter a hug. he seems sort of shell shocked and star struck but that’s not her problem

AND when Thanos appears and makes this whole weird world even worse Peter is called to action to help the Avengers punch their way to a diplomatic solution. but before he can ship out with the rest of the squad the tech in his suit goes haywire and MJ has to fix it because Tony Stark doesn’t know what happened and Peter sure as hell doesn’t. she spends the better part of the night getting him battle ready. and when the time comes for him to go and fight she doesn’t give him a kiss for good luck or hugs him and tells him to be safe. she simply tells him that she needs the world to be in one piece if she’s going to save it. and that he needs to go make sure she’s got a world to save.

so he does. he and his team defeat Thanos and two days after the end of the war, she’s back on the streets protesting against corruption. because the world didn’t stop spinning just because an alien invaded. no sir.

the first day of their senior year, Peter slides MJ a note and instead of revealing any kind of secret identities like the first time, its a question.

she looks up at him genuinely surprised. “you wanna go out with me?” she asks, “why?”

he gets flustered and manages to tell her what she already knew, “you’re like a freakin’ superhero. who wouldn’t want to go out with you?”

he gets a kiss for that comment. their first kiss. “yea, i’ll go out with you.”

“tonight?” he replies, almost too eager to sit still.

she rolls her eyes and turns back to her book about dysphoria in the trans community, “I’m going to a BLM march.” “i’ll go with you.”

and that’s their first date. their second is private dinner with the Obamas to thank the Avengers for saving the world. and when the former President asks who Michelle is Peter introduces her as “the girl who is going to save this country” and Obama smiles wide at her, shakes her hand and says sincerely, “well, its very nice to meet you”

#anon #asks #headcanon #headcanon ask #michelle jones #she is a badass #and i love everything about her #spideychelle

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