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#sisters of mercy headers
esouliie · 28 days
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AN ANGEL FLUNG OUT OF SPACE
(natasha romanoff x fem! reader)
– synopsis | falling in love with your childhood bestfriend might have been one of the best yet scariest things to happen to you. but what happened in the summer of ‘97? what happened to your darling natalia?
– warnings | little fluff & a lot of angst, kind of au (no avengers), child abuse, mentions of: attempted suicide, self harm, body mutilation, burn marks, severe malnourishment (18+)
– notes | this was supposed to be a oneshot but, as usual, i spiralled out of control and now it has two chapters… potentially three? merci, mon alice, for the header @wandasgf ♡
[ word count: 4.4k ] Chapter 1 | Chapter 2
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JULY 1992
The sun had begun to set and yet the warmth of the day still lingered. The glow of the street lamps cast an amber hue on the pavement, outlining the familiar houses that lined the quiet street. The air was filled with the scent of summer, a blend of fresh grass and the distant fragrance of blooming flowers. In one of the houses on the street, a family gathered in their backyard for a summer evening barbecue. The smell of sizzling burgers and sweet barbecue sauce wafted through the air, and the faint laughter of children chasing each other echoed, while the adults lounged and swapped stories.
Meanwhile, across the field, two girls were beneath the sprawling branches of a willow tree. A patchwork quilt, covering a section of flattened grass, held a tea set long forgotten as they had rounded the thick trunk, the littlest one already perched on the wooden swing.
“Push me higher, Natty!” You exclaimed, voice full of glee. You were only a small girl with wild hair and a toothy grin, but your spirit was boundless.
Natalia smiled brightly, her own eyes sparkling with joy at her friend's excitement. “You’re already so high you could see the Empire State Building.” She teased, her laughter blending with the sound of chirping crickets amongst the long grass in the distance.
“I know!” The wind whipped against your face, and you couldn’t help but let out a joyous laugh.
Inseparable since Natalia moved in next door, your friendship blossomed under the protective branches of the willow tree across the street, where a swing hung proudly in the breeze. Its gentle leaves whispered secrets that only the two of you could hear, dreams of the future etched upon its bark, as unadulterated laughter rang true with its sway.
She whistled as your head swung back, the carefree spirit of the summer evening enveloping her in its warm embrace. And as she gazed up at the tree’s opening, she found twinkling stars above and the imaginary distant silhouette of the Empire State Building visible on the horizon. She couldn't help but feel a sense of wonder at the vastness of the world she had yet to see.
"Whoa, this is amazing." You shouted, feeling your stomach drop with each swoop. "Let’s swing all the way to the moon!"
“Maybe not the moon,” She pushed harder, her hands gripping the thick plank of wood beneath you, “But let’s try for the stars."
You shouted with as much euphemism as your little body could handle as the swing reached its peak. Weightless under its motion, you were suspended between the sky and the ground.
 An angel flung out of space.
 "I can almost touch the stars!"
She smiled. Despite her hands being rubbed red raw from rope burn, she was happy. She was always happy to be with you. While she had her younger sister, Yelena, whom she cared for deeply, it wasn't the same as having you. A friendship of her own creation. She yearned for the summer days when she could run around like a child with you.
“That’s good, that means you’re almost home, little star.” She shouted, her accent slipping out ever so subtly.
Carefully, your hand stretched toward the night sky – a poor attempt to touch the boiling balls of gas above.
You both were happy.
It’s sad what became of you both.
All too soon, reality intruded once more. The distant sound of a heavy door opening cut through the air, a gentle reminder that all good things must come to an end. With a final push, Nat stepped back and held onto the plank, commanding it to a halt. She knew what was coming.
At first, you didn’t notice her disappear around the wide trunk. But the gentle clink of pottery against one another told you enough as you followed in her footsteps.
“Natalia,” You whined, hands on your waist at the sight of the older girl cleaning up. “No, it’s your turn to swing.”
A whistle pierced the air, its familiar shrill sound gaining both of your attention. The sound of home time. “Natalia, come. Time to go.” Her mother’s voice carried just as loud, urging the redhead to leave playtime behind.
She turned to you, her expression softening as she looked down at your smaller frame. With a mixture of reluctance and understanding, she pulled you into a tight embrace, the warmth of her arms wrapped around you, the gentle press of her lips against your forehead lingered for a moment before she released you and ran off into the gathering dusk.
Alone now, you watched as the field fell silent, the only sound being of the insects hidden in the dark. The swing on the other side croaked gently in response to the light breeze and the redhead’s swift departure. For a moment, you considered sitting on it, perhaps pushing yourself back and forth on the points of your feet. Instead, you find yourself standing there: the absence of your best friend ever so palpable, a void that sunk deep into your bones.
Without Natalia by your side, the swing held little allure, and you decided to make your way back home. With your large basket in hand, you reached your own doorstep and paused, casting one last glance towards the girl’s house. The lights were on inside, casting a warm glow against the darkness outside.
You almost missed it, but a glimpse of red hair appeared out the window, followed by a hand waving at you. As soon as you waved back, she was gone. Window shut. Curtains drawn.
You went to bed with a cheesy grin plastered on your face.
You’ll see her again tomorrow.
--
AUGUST 1997
“Natalia, stop fighting me on this. You look like a popsicle.” You laughed and shoved the girl playfully from where you were sitting against the willow tree.
“It's cool.” She defended, as her hand tugged at her blue-dyed ends.
The years had rolled by, but the memories of that swing under the willow tree lingered on in your heart. As the seasons changed, so did your life. You made new friends, explored different interests, and navigated the tumultuous journey of adolescence. Being older than you, Natalia was already in high school, but she didn’t go to any in the district, as she was home-schooled and sometimes had to leave for a while. She never really told you why.
Even so, your bond deepened and an unspoken connection developed between you both. Under the tree's comforting shade, you discovered a warmth in your heart that went beyond friendship. Those lazy summer afternoons spent laughing, dreaming, and sharing secrets created a bond that you wanted to explore further.
You’d never felt like this before for anyone.
Only Natalia.
Life as a pre-teen was so confusing.
You snorted, “Yeah, okay, you leave for a month and come back with half of your hair a different colour.”
But it wasn't just the hair colour that captivated you. It was the way she carried herself - a wisdom wise beyond her years. She was the same goofy redhead of course - her eyes sparkled with mischief when she laughed at you, her hand held the same warmth in yours as you walked together. But there was something else lurking beneath, a sadness more notable than her usual melancholy. You noticed the slight furrow in her brow, the way her fingers tapped nervously against each other.
Something was weighing on her mind, something significant. So, you asked, “What’s wrong?”
She let out such a soft sigh that you almost missed it.
“I’m leaving.”
Dread washed over you, and a knot formed in your stomach. "Again?"
She had just returned the other day. Your mind raced with questions and uncertainty and the tears already clustered your lash line. You, a child with no need to mask her emotions, no need to hide her soul, unlike Natalia, who always seemed to carry the weight of the world on her shoulders, her laughter always accompanied by a subtle sadness, as if she were trying to conceal her true feelings behind a façade of cheerfulness. But today, as she sat you down with a gentle tug, her eyes betraying a mixture of resolve and sorrow, you sensed that she could no longer hide what she'd been keeping inside.
"It's for good this time," she murmured, her gaze fixed on the ground as if unable to meet your eyes. "My parents want to go back to Russia. They don’t like it here.”
Though unspoken, you sensed the weight of what she meant. They don't like you. It stung, a silent acknowledgement of the barriers you've fallen blind to. The odd glances from her mother, the subtle disapproval from her younger sister—all pieces of a puzzle you've tried to ignore.
Her admission hung heavy in the air, the reality of separation sinking in with each passing moment. She drew closer, her delicate fingers brushing away the tears that cascaded down your cheeks. You lifted your gaze to meet hers, noticing the weariness etched into her features, the telltale signs of tears already shed hours before.
“I’ll miss you.” She whispered, forehead flushed against yours, before leaning down to kiss the corner of your lips. An almost kiss. One of many shared underneath the cover of the willow tree.
You tasted saltiness and noticed the fresh tears that had now sprung from her eyes.
“I'll miss you too. Forever.”
The next morning, you stood outside her house, as the sun cast long shadows over their lawn. It was your last full day together so you arrived bright and early, not wanting to waste any time. You reached out to knock on the door, but your hand hovered, hesitant. The house remained still, as if holding its breath, waiting for something that would never come. You glanced around, searching for any sign of life, but the windows stared back at you blankly, revealing nothing but darkness within.
“Natty?”
 Nothing.
A sinking feeling gnawed at your stomach as you realized they must've left in the night, slipping away like shadows fleeing from the dawn. The same way they joined this neighbourhood.
With a heavy heart, you turned away from the empty house, feeling as if a piece of your soul had been torn away with their departure. The world already seemed colder, lonelier, devoid of her warmth and laughter that once filled it.
In the days that followed, you found yourself drawn to the tree – yours and Natalia’s safe haven. You sat there, surrounded by memories, as the rope swayed in the wind - empty and forlorn. Though still magical, the willow tree could no longer shield you from the loneliness that settled in your heart, as the summer months stretched on endlessly, a blur of empty hours filled with longing and regret.
That night, you slept with a permanent frown, a puddle of tears staining your pillow.
You won’t see her again tomorrow.
--
APRIL 2001
From afar, she looked different. Almost unrecognisable.
Eighteen years old and she was here: barely an adult yet taller and slimmer, with a cascade of auburn curls framing her face that replaced the short blue hair you remembered. The years had engraved themselves onto her, carving the once-round face into a pointed visage that spoke of both experience and loss.
Just as beautiful as you remembered.
You sat on the swing under the tree with a book in hand, lost in its pages until light danced between the branches and a flicker of movement caught your attention. Glancing up, you froze as you saw her across the street.
Natalia?
Your heart quickened its pace, memories flooding back in a torrent. But this woman was different. She’d changed. She’d grown.
She noticed you too, her gaze locking onto yours for a moment. There's a flicker of recognition, a spark of something in those eyes. For a heartbeat, it feels like time hasn't passed, like you're still the same two little girls taking on the world together. But then, just as quickly as the connection formed, she averted her gaze, choosing instead to continue on her journey. She walked with purpose, footsteps marching in a steady rhythm that both connected and distanced her from you. She couldn’t get caught up with you. She had a job to do.
Realising she was going to walk away, you pushed yourself off the swing, a mix of hope and nerves swirling inside you as you discarded the book somewhere in the grass.
None of that mattered. Natalia was here. She was back.
“Hey, wait!” You shouted, practically running after her. You reached out to grab her wrist, but she jerked away, shoving you back a few steps with surprising force.
Up close, the difference was unquestionable.
The once soft and kind Natalia had evolved into a hardened version of herself, sharpened by strong fists. Her eyes once filled with innocence, now harbour shadows of pain and resilience. She exuded an aura of toughness, and a guarded silence had replaced the laughter that used to be a melody in her voice.
“Natalia? What are you doing here?” You inquired, tentatively closing the gap between you both. You watched as she winced at her name falling from your lips.
And yet, this time, she didn’t evade your touch. Her hand trembled slightly as it met yours, eyes fluttering shut for a moment. In that fleeting silence, you took in the toll life has taken on her. Her arms bear the marks of countless scars, remnants of battles fought in shadows, and bruises of varying hues.
“What happened to your arms?” Your voice is gentle, a soft inquiry borne out of concern.
But, the sudden confrontation had her retreating into herself, defences rising once more like impenetrable walls. You mustn’t know. She could never do that to you. “Let go.” She demanded sharply, her tone cutting through the air like a knife.
Caught off guard, you hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to proceed, but that’s long enough for her to decide to rip her hand out of yours, sharp and abrupt.
“Are you okay?” Your voice was barely a whisper as you watched her practically flee, disappearing around the corner of the street.
 You don’t follow her.
--
OCTOBER 2012
Funny how throughout life, fate seemed to play a game with you, pulling Natalia in and out of your orbit like a cosmic dance.
At twenty-seven, you found yourself entrenched in the fast-paced world of trauma nursing. After the arduous journey through medical school, you packed your bags and set your sights on the East Coast. New York City welcomed you with open arms, its vibrant chaos becoming the backdrop to your new life. From your boss’s office window, the silhouette of the Empire State Building stood tall, a symbol of strength amidst the chaos below.
You thrived in this environment, relishing in the opportunity to connect with and assist people in their most vulnerable moments. The adrenaline rush of the emergency room, the delicate balance between life and death—it fuelled you in ways nothing else could. Not since that summer night. Not since you tried to touch the stars.
Today, however, the hospital was enveloped in an air of secrecy and quiet urgency. Paramedics had rushed in with a new patient a few hours ago, shrouded in mystery as they were rushed straight into surgery. Usually, you're first on-site with incoming patients but you had been busy working your rounds to be able to assist, and there were enough on the trauma team – with the security clearance - to handle such a situation.
Stopping by the bedside of your oldest patient, Mrs. Dinton, you smiled sweetly. “Hey, Mrs Dinton. How are we today?”
"Ah, there you are, dearie," she said, her voice crackling with age. "I was just telling Nurse Molly here about the delightful hospital pudding they serve on Wednesdays. It's simply divine, don't you think?"
You chuckled softly, waving a hello to your colleague. "I'm afraid I'm not much of a fan, Mrs. Dinton. But I'm glad to hear you're enjoying it."
She laughed, a sound like tinkling bells. "Oh, well, means more for me then."
Before you could continue the conversation – could reprimand the elderly woman about how she needs to watch her sugar intake - Dr. Cho appeared at your side, her expression serious. "Excuse me, ladies. But, Nurse Y/N, is needed elsewhere." She says kindly but with a hint of urgency, no room for questioning. You and Dr. Cho were great friends, having graduated med school together and now working at the same hospital.
“What is it, Helen?” You asked, following her footsteps out the ward, navigating the labyrinthine hallways of the hospital.
“I’ve been assigned postoperative care for the Jane Doe and I want you with me...” Your heart dropped at the mention of the mystery woman.
All day, the hushed tones and covert glances exchanged among your colleagues hinted at the gravity of the situation. Their whispers that followed you through the hospital corridors spoke of a failed suicide attempt. While the hospital had sadly seen its share of such cases, this one was different – a Jane Doe, requiring an unusual degree of privacy.
“…while I don’t know any more than you about what happened, I trust you the most to help me with her. So I got you clearance. Go grab us a pair of gloves, I’ll meet you inside.” Helen finished with a nod before entering the private wing.
You donned your own pair of latex and made your way back to the private wing, the click of your shoes echoing down the corridor. The atmosphere was thick with anticipation and concern. The weight of the unknown pressed upon you as you approached the room where the troubled soul awaited treatment. Few years being a trauma nurse, you had seen it all… but not a Jane Doe. Never a Jane Doe.
Upon entering, you found Helen already studying the patient's chart. The subdued lighting in the room cast a sombre mood, and the machines hummed softly in the background. The Jane Doe was laid on the hospital bed, head secured in a neck brace and a tube down her throat, a silent testament to the ordeal she had endured.
“Thanks,” Helen whispered, making her way over to retrieve her gloves. "I've gone through everything in the notes. The attempt was pretty severe."
You nodded, taking in the gravity of the situation. The silence was broken only by the soft beeping of the monitors as you both began your work. Each movement was deliberate, and each procedure executed with precision and empathy. You adjusted the IV drip, checked the vital signs, and made sure everything was in order.
Sometime later, Helen had left, her pager going off as her presence was needed with another incoming patient.  The room seemed to hold its breath, but it was only you. The machine to your right, making sure the woman was still breathing.
You read over her notes once more.
“Female, 5’7…” You ramble aimlessly to no one as you find yourself unable to voice the rest.
The laceration on her neck caught your attention. The wound stretched across her delicate skin, a jagged seam where the surgeons' skilled hands had meticulously stitched the deep gash closed. The edges of the cut were puckered slightly, evidence of the trauma dealt with by the knife paramedics found next to her unconscious body. Judging by the shape, it seemed like she plunged rather than sliced, the offending weapon, then, pulled out instead of left inside. She was quite malnourished, her cheeks hollowed out, collarbone visible as the gown drowned her thin figure. She lacked a sufficient amount of muscle. You wondered how someone could go unnoticed without eating for several days. It was as if she had become a ghost, fading away in plain sight.
The woman looked ill - eyes sunken with abnormally pale skin. Drifting down her body, you noticed her legs. A horrified gasp threatened to leave your lips.  Raised red lines covered the expanse of her legs, some scabbed up, some clear burn marks that had turned into blisters. Her arms were just as bad, marred with a history of wounds that ran from her wrists to her shoulders.
Behind all the equipment, her face was almost unrecognisable. Her hair was what stood out the most, the auburn curls matted with blood. A sense of familiarity washed over you, the red striking your curiosity.
You couldn't tear your gaze away as you watched her stir. Unsure if she was waking or simply moving unconsciously, you remained still, not wanting to startle her. But then her face contorted with pain, and her lashes began to flutter open.
The sheets rustled as she tried to turn, her discomfort evident from the way she struggled against the tubes and wires tethering her to the medical machinery. You couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for her, lying there in such a vulnerable state. No identity. No family to be there for her.
"Stay still, please.” You whispered softly, stepping closer to her bedside. “You're in the hospital. You’re safe."
Her eyes, clouded with pain and confusion, met yours for a fleeting moment before flickering away. She seemed to be trying to process where she was and what had happened.
“Paramedics found you unconscious and rushed you in.” You explained gently, hoping to offer some semblance of clarity amidst the chaos of her thoughts. “You had a wound to the neck. We’ve managed to close it, so don’t move around too much. Otherwise, you might open the stitches.”
Her gaze drifted back to you, and for a moment there was a flicker of recognition in her eyes. It was fleeting, gone almost as quickly as it had appeared, but it was enough to make your heart skip a beat.
You saw as she went to speak, only to find pain and a heavy weight against her tongue. “Careful. You shouldn’t try to speak yet. We’re not sure how much damage has been done to your vocal cords.”
As if she didn’t hear you, she continued fidgeting, fighting against the intrusion in her mouth, panic overriding.
“Hey, listen to me,” you coaxed, voice soft but firm, your hand reaching out to settle over hers, the glove long forgotten. “I need you to calm down, please. You’re going to be okay. You just need to rest your voice.”
Her eyes darted to you, wide with fear and frustration, and you squeezed her hand gently, offering what little comfort you could.
“It’s going to be alright, just take slow breaths. Focus on that.” You started to breathe deeply, deliberately, hoping she'd follow your lead. Inhale... exhale... in a steady rhythm, like waves lapping against the shore
As you continued to focus on stabilising her breathing, your eyes inadvertently met hers, and in that moment, you were drawn into the depths of those vibrant green orbs. They held a world of pain, swirling like a tempestuous storm beneath the surface. Yet, amidst the turmoil, there's a glimmer of familiarity that tugged at the corners of your memory.
There’s something about her you can’t make sense of.
 Why does she look so familiar? Who is she?
“Do I know you?” You almost asked, but then suddenly, the door to the waiting room clicked open, and Helen strode in, her expression wavering as she noticed the woman awake. “She’s awake already?!” Shock and bewilderment visible on her face.
She advanced, quickly spewing off questions in your direction, as her eyes narrowed in on the woman, assessing her condition with a quick, practised glance.
"She's awake, a little panicked about being in a hospital, but also a bit disoriented," you explained, voice calm despite the urgency of the situation. "Vitals are stable for now.”
With that, you stepped away, dropping her hand you had forgotten you were still holding, as Helen went to introduce herself. Your lunch break was coming up and before you could turn to leave the room, Helen stopped you. "Thank you for staying with her," she said softly, "There was a car accident. Two little girls rushed in for surgery. They needed me."
You nodded in understanding. You couldn’t fault her. Every day seemed to bring a new challenge, a new story, and today was no different. This Jane Doe was no different.
Before you could delve deeper into your thoughts, she interrupted, “Anyways, I’m here now and pager is off,” she drew your attention to the device in her pocket, “Boss’s order...  now go take your lunch break.”
With a small smile, you left the room, the door softly closing behind you. Walking down the hallways, your mind buzzed with curiosity about the woman. Her face – those eyes - nagged at the edges of your memory, like a puzzle waiting to be solved.
Where do I know you from, Jane Doe?
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SaiyanPrincessSwanie - Reading List Week 102
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Welcome to Week 102
For the month of July I will adding new or small blogs to this list. This is in honor of hitting over 100 lists and 2 years of doing this. So please give these people your time like you would for well known/bigger blogs.
As always these will be listed in no particular order. None of these stories are mine. I’m just signal boosting them. Author is listed next to title. My goal is to signal boost writers and spread positivity in the community.  💜💜
Click HERE to see what I will or won’t read. This is very important.
Click HERE for past reading lists.
My Masterlist click HERE
Please make sure you are reading the warnings on every story. They range from dark to fluff. Do Not Read if you are under 18 years old.These stories are meant for adults only. You’re responsible for your own media consumption.
Page-break by @whimsicalrogers​ & Header by @chaotictarlos​
If you can, please reblog these lists so they can reach more people on Tumblr.
I love you 3000 💜 Missy
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Civil War Brooklyn - Chp 9 - (Steve x Reader x Bucky) - @saiyanprincessswanie​​
Chrome & Leather - Chp 12 - (Billy x Reader, former Steve x Reader) - @/saiyanprincessswanie
Mafia Pet - (Zemo x Reader) - @animnerd​​
My Little Princessa - (Zemo x Reader) - @/animnerd
Interrogation - (Ari x Reader) - @astheskycries​​
Risky - (Ari x Reader) - @/astheskycries
Incessantly - (Bucky x Reader) - @buckysbruni​​
Someday - Part 1 - Part 2 - @buckys-bbarnes​​
Having a bad day/take it out on Bucky - @/buckysbruni
Make Me Think Twice (1) - (Winter Soldier x Reader) - @cryptidcasanova​​
Heathens - (Bucky x Reader) - @/cryptidcasanova
day one - (winter soldier x Reader) - @sgt-seabass​​
Slip of the Tongue - (Bucky x Reader) - @jobean12-blog
Ransom Undelivered - (Bucky x Reader) - @lovelyavengers​​
Not Lovers - (Bucky x Reader) - @/lovelyavengers
Saturday Mornings - (Bucky Barnes x Reader) - @delaber​​
Love is a Dagger - (Loki Laufeyson) - @/delaber
Worthy of Heaven - (Ari x Reader) - @maladaptivexxdaydreaming​​
To the Moon and Stars and Back Again - (Chris x Reader) - @denisemarieangelina​​
I Never Knew - (Chris x Reader) a @/denisemarieangelina
Fireworks - @writercole​​
Birthday - (Steve x Reader) - @nekoannie-chan​​ 
The Birdcage - Chp 5 - @caffiend-queen​​ 
Ain't No Sunshine - (Steve x Reader) - @writerwrites​​
Taken Care Of - (Frank C x Reader) - @fictional-affairs​
Chores - (Bucky x Reader) - @/fictional-affairs
I Choose You - (Steve x Reader) - @fluffycutecevans​​
New Venture - (Frank x Reader) - @/fluffycutecevans
Alpha Andy Handcuffed - @ghotifishreads​​
A Canary to Bring My Message Home - (Curtis x Reader) - @/ghotifishreads
Happy Birthday Steve - @/animnerd
Shirt - (Steve x Reader) - @/nekoannie-chan
Blue Moon - Chp 1 - Chp 2 - (Stucky x Reader) - @lfaewrites​​
Sounds of Silence - (Dean x Reader) - @jensengirl83​
Will You Still Love Me - (Dean x Reader) - @/jensengirl83
Little Spiderbro - @justalonelyslytherin​​
Big Sister (to the) Rescue - (Steve x Reader) - @/justalonelyslytherin
Language - (Steve x Reader) - @late-to-the-party-81​
Yes, Daddy. Thank you, Daddy - (Frank C x Reader x Ari) - @/late-to-the-party-81
Shed My Skin: The Story of Polaris - Chp 1 - Chp 2 - @leiamorgainedelalunewriter​​
Chamomile Tea - (Andy x Reader) - @lexivass​​
The Stove Situation - (Ari x Reader) - @/lexivass
Omega on strike - (Ransom x Reader) - @holylulusworld​​
Mercy - (Jake “hangman” x Reader) - @/writercole
Home Run Romance - 1 - (Nat x Reader) - @lovelyavengers​​
SUSPICIONS - (Steve x Reader) - @/nekoannie-chan
The Perfect Fit - (Bucky x Reader) - @jobean12-blog​
Grandma's recipe - (Steve x Reader) - @/nekoannie-chan
I Really Love Being Your Friend (Epilogue) - (Bucky x Reader) - @tuiccim​
Gone, Baby Part 6 - (Lloyd x Reader) - @wayward-blonde​
The dutiful - Part 1 - Part 2 - (Lloyd x Reader) - @misguidedasgardian​
୨୧ 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 ୨୧ - (Chris x Reader) - @hansensgirl​
drowning in your love - (Winter Soldier x Reader) - @bonky-n-steeb​
Battle - (Steve x OFC) - @/nekoannie-chan
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teenspiriticons · 4 years
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like or credit @Ieadersofmen on twitter ❃ request
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backtotheicons · 5 years
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like or reblog if you save
(c): @sidviciouis on twitter
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rocknrollheaders · 6 years
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the jesus and mary chain
alice in chains 
sisters of mercy
like se usar
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Hey there! This blog is a dumping ground for all the pop culture nostalgia I’m into, the digital graveyard for a zine I used to publish, and a late-nite anxiety clearing-house.
The bio in the header gives you a good idea of what you’ll find here, but under the cut are some other things about me and this blog.
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• VHS & Retro Media! In this house we celebrate all things physical media: 8mm, Super 8, 16mm, 35mm, VHS, Beta, CED, Laserdisc, DVD, Bluray and 4K UHD discs. There are too many film projectors and video playback machines. I especially never gave up on VHS, and one of my pandemic hobbies was compiling VHS mixtapes from my collection of rare horror, ‘80s animation & late-nite soft-core fare. 📼
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• Comics! I collect comics (mostly silver age), and scan a lot of comic covers & old comic book ads. You can find those using the #comic scans tag. Highlights of the collection include a ton of vintage Spider-Man comics. I still read several monthly series and #ncbd is my favourite day of the week. My fave ongoing monthly titles as of this writing (Aug, 2023) are Daredevil, Newburn, Nightmare Country: The Glass House, She-Hulk, and Wolverine. 🦸🏻
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• Video Games! I also collect and play a lot of retro video games, which I post under the #retro games and #my gameplay tag. My preferred consoles are Atari 2600, Intellivision, Nintendo, Super Nintendo & Sega Genesis. And uh, since my favourite arcades closed at the onset of the pandemic, I sorta went down the Arcade 1Up rabbit hole. 🕹
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• The Rec Room! All of this fun stuff takes place in #The Rec Room, dubbed “the greatest room ever” by a certain Marvel Comics writer. It’s a combination hangout/retro paradise/office space/arcade I share with my wife, who is the reigning, undefeated Super Mario Kart champion in our house. 🏎
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• Music! You’ll see lots of vinyl posted here. My wife and I have an enormous collection of well nearly 1300 records and I like to show off what we’re listening to under the #ericvinyl tag. I’m mostly into ‘50s jazz, punk rock, goth & death rock, and ‘70s & ‘80s horror soundtracks. My favourite albums are Bobby Womack’s My Prescription, the Pump Up the Volume soundtrack, The Sisters of Mercy’s First and Last and Always, Serge Gainsbourg’s Histoire de Melody Nelson, and The Jesus & Mary Chain’s Psychocandy.
• Writing! Here are some longer-form posts of blog-original content and other stuff I’ve published elsewhere throughout the years. 📰
Film writing & criticism: The Birth of a Nation: How ugliness changed Toronto’s movie-going landscape / Revisiting Robin Wood’s “Hitchcock’s Films” / Michael Curtiz’s “The Walking Dead” /
Pop culture: Superman’s origins: Fighting for workers’ rights, safe city infrastructure & smashing down corruption / Fixing a TMNT GameBoy cartridge / Verne Langdon’s monster masks / Castle Films 8mm Universal Horror Digests
The Golden Age Project: Roger Watkins’ “Corruption” “Midnight Heat” and “The Pink Ladies” / Paul Vatelli’s “Stiff Competition” / Henri Pachard’s “Getting Personal” / more of this examination of the Golden Age of X under the #32em x reviews tag (which also features lots of gifs and scans of promotional material and interviews from Golden Age magazines).
There’s also interesting stuff in the #32em asks tag.
Anyway, I hope you enjoy the ramblings, bits of ephemera accumulated over the years, and slice of life stuff this blog offers.
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doitwritenow · 4 years
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IronStrange Starter Kit - Master Fic Rec List for all Y’all Because You’ve been Asking and I’ve been Avoiding
Hi! All you anons and askers, I made a list!!! Hopefully some of these are what you’ve been after. :D
(Please reblog this, lol, I spent too much time on it...) 
General rules: These are complete unless indicated otherwise, and end happily unless indicated otherwise. There’s a variety of ratings, as I have no qualms against smut, but I don’t usually read it outside of a larger plot. So I don’t think there’ll be many explicit stories on here. Word counts vary; I indicate general length but don’t go into specifics. What else, uh... Bold stuff is the headers and general subjects. I link the titles. Block quotes are author summaries. Enjoy!!
Okay so first off, there are a couple of Fandom Staples who just have leagues worth of good short stories, and if you haven’t read them, then definitely treat yourself to the array:
A Thousand Futures of Me and You - VisionaryGalaxy (Vishanti, what a legend, ily so much). This is a series of unconnected one-shots, each their own and covering a variety of tropes and moments and themes and AUs. They’re so fun (and/or painful and/or thought-provoking and/or tense and/or sexy)! In-character and amazing, consistantly. 
Prompt Collection -  amethyst-noir (Arbonne). (Also a legendary human). This is exactly what it sounds like: a series of prompt fills in all sorts of tones. You’ll almost certainly find something here that feels like it was just made for you!
Alright, onto the individual stories and series!
Long fics/series:
The of overqualified hands and pi figures series - lantia4ever. (This was my first Ironstrange story, and it is no less magical now.)
A series of one-shots, all set in the same alternate verse in which Tony and Stephen first meet following the events of the first Avengers and then continue to meet after that throughout the canon up until Infinity War and eventually beyond it. Becoming friends - and more along the way.
Time After Time - fancylances. (I love love LOVE this one. Highly recommended.) 
Tony Stark is unstuck in time. Stephen Strange might just be the only person in the universe qualified enough to help.
Citizen Erased - Imagined. (This author. Just... such a wonderful, talented, stunning person who makes wonderful, talented, stunning works. This story is masterful.)
What do you do when no one in the world ever manages to remember you?
Anyone who sees Tony Stark promptly forgets he ever existed after mere seconds. When everyone he has ever cared about has lost their memories of him, he goes to Stephen Strange, possibly the only one who can help him lift the curse. But a terrifying danger is coming, and saving the world isn’t an easy job to do when no one can remember who you are.
if only the gods had mercy on us and it’s sequel a soul too deep - orphan_account. (Vishanti, this series...  It’s so beautiful and emotional and heart-breaking and heart-warming. And it has so few views for so many words! One of my absolute favorites, VERY highly recommended.) 
Tony Stark loved Stephen Strange. He loved him more than anyone could ever imagine. But then a terrorist group attacked the convoy. Then there was a car accident. In the middle of it all, there is tired, battered love. (And, maybe, a little bit of genius)
From the Top - lucifersfavoritechild. (Everyone reads this fic. Written by the blogger Monarch Of The Ironstrange Ship, it’s an MCU rewrite around the relationship. Very fun.) 
“Stephen, if you’re . . . there somewhere . . . when I drift off, I’ll be with you again. I can’t wait.”
|| Personally, I think the MCU would be much better as a love story between Stephen Strange and Tony Stark. Don't you?
Starting from Iron Man, and going all the way to Endgame, with all the appropriate stops in between. Let's take it from the top.
UNFINISHED: Skin Deep - Mystical_Magician. (Super cool premise, and super interesting to read! The dynamic here is very fun.)
A battle that should have finally killed Stephen instead launches him into a parallel universe. Exhausted from centuries as Sorcerer Supreme, he chooses instead to explore this new world in any animal form except human. Having hoped for peace at last, he can't stand to be looked up to, to be responsible for others, to have the world on his shoulders.
If he'd hoped to avoid excitement, however, he really should have stayed away when he noticed an enormous explosion and a falling metal suit of armor as he passed through Afghanistan.
UNFINISHED: The End of Infinity - FriendlyNeighborhoodFangirls. (Self rec. Very long, very slow-burn. Canon-compliant Endgame fix-it. I’m trying so hard, lol.)
In 2023, the battle for the universe has been won. At a cost no one can forget, the fight is over—for all but one. Stephen Strange has an idea. An impossible idea spanning dimensions and timelines, life and death, and the lines of good and evil. But he's played impossible odds before—perhaps he never stopped.
All that Loki wanted was to fight, one last time, for the fate of his universe. So when he finds himself fighting for another, crashing into the past, he has a few intended words for the wizard that forced him there. But not before he finds a boy. Or, more accurately, before the boy finds him.
Peter Parker had been waiting for the next mission. He just doesn't expect it to come from the future, armed with a ridiculous story demanding a ridiculous quest. And he doesn't expect not to be able to tell Mr. Stark.
Tony Stark is trying to rebuild from the Civil War, knowing that someday, something will come that he needs to be ready for. And he doesn't know it yet, but two universes are trying to rebuild around him, and that something is already here.
Seven Stones. Five dead. Two universes. And one impossible quest to tie it all back together.
UNFINISHED: Sunrise in Exile - Ragdoll (Keshka). (Another fandom favorite! And for good reason. This is really really good!) 
Tony does the math and realizes their best chance to save the universe is by... not confronting Thanos on his own turf.
So he steals a wizard and a spider and a space ship. And he runs.
(Three humans and an A.I in space, the alien friendships they make along the way, and discovering how science and magic might coexist in a universe where they can be one and the same.)
Shorter plotty ones: 
Out of Suffering - Mystical_Magician. (So this author??? THIS AUTHOR??? Very very good, much yes, very good.) 
Stephen Strange does not like people, but 14,000,605 lifetimes of fighting and dying alongside this small group have worn down his walls. He likes them, gods help him. He might even consider them friends. It’s really for the best that they all go their separate ways once Thanos has been defeated. In their eyes, he’s barely even an acquaintance.
Now if only Tony and Peter would stop surprising him.
moros - spookykingdomstarlight. (Almost got a spot in the angst section. Very good). 
There were fourteen million universes Stephen had birthed into existence and let die and, in far more than he cared to count, the visitor standing before him had become something… dear.
Shaking is Caring - mariadperiad20. (This is just STUNNING. Highly loved.)
5 times Stephen's hands would shake, +1 time they didn't.
It's Kinda Chalky - DestielsDestiny. (This one’s pretty short, but definitely worth it.) 
You can live an entire lifetime by looking into someone’s eyes. His sister used to say that all the time. Stephen never gave it much thought back then. These days, he can think of little else.
Something Magic - Imagined. (Beautiful!)
There is only ever one rule that matters:
do not fall in love with the enemy.
An Idiotic Theory - FriendlyNeighborhoodFangirls. (Self rec! I tried to be funny.)
His wizard has been cursed, again, and Tony's already used up his luck for the day.
(Stephen says it's not a curse. He says Tony's whole daily-allotted karma-based luck theory has minimal merit, citing the fact that Tony had come up with it while he was drunk.)
Tony really should have saved his miracle.
Love Through Time - babywarg (morphaileffect). (I love this one. It sticks with you.) 
Tony discovers an old drawing of, and finally remembers, his invisible friend Stephen from when he was a child.
Alternates - doobler. (Super cool!)
After being punked by a lowbrow magician, Stephen finds himself falling through doors to otherwordly dimensions. How will he ever get home?
132 - 28ghosts. (Soulmate AU! Very fun, incorporates Stephen’s time-loop with Dormammu.)
Ninety-nine point eight percent of humans have a soulmate mark that tells them the age their soulmate will be when they meet them. Tony Stark has a mark. It's just that his is...different than most people's.
(Or: six people who aren't Tony Stark's soulmate, and one who is.)
and when the world falls (I will fall with it) - HeavenChild. (Another multichap soulmate AU. Absolutely lovely.)
Tony will give anything to those he loves.
People will take everything he gives before leaving him in shambles.
Rhodhey, Pepper and Vision have had enough.
Or the five times Tony had his heart broken and the one time he didn't.
i saw the end of the world - JumpToConclusions. (Why has no one read this fic??? It’s so good!!! Stephen knows the future since he saw it on Titan, and things grow more complex from there.)
Tony and Strange are trying to make this work, this being remaking The Avengers. ...And maybe they'll stumble into something else along the way.
Tiresome heart, forever living and dying - Mystical_Magician. (R e a d  t h i s  p l e a s e. The mythology is so cool and the symbolism is so beautiful and the prose is so satisfying. One of my absolute faves.) 
As a fledgling crane, Stephen was too curious for his own good, and it was this curiosity that led to Eugene Strange finding and stealing away his feather robe. Trapped in human form, cruelly forged into the perfect son, not even his father's death freed him when his robe was so well hidden. He only managed to break his father's mold after breaking completely in the aftermath of his accident, and slowly gluing those broken pieces back together at Kamar-Taj, but not even magic could find what had been hidden. Enter Tony, after the defeat of Thanos.
Fluffy ones:
From The Outside - Live. (Hilarious.) 
Being a sentient life-form surrounded by humanity can be hard. Especially when said humans just can't admit their feelings for each other.
Sleeping Iron Man - Golden_Asp. (Another fun one. Perfect balance of ridiculousness with a touch of angst to make it interesting.) 
Stephen Strange stared at the Avengers on his doorstep, Tony Stark flung over Steve Rogers' shoulder like a sack of potatoes. "He touched something, didn't he?" "Yuup." or The one where Tony touches Sleeping Beauty's spindle, is put into an enchanted sleep, and everyone, even Rocket Raccoon, take their turn kissing him. But Tony only has one prince charming.
Doctor Ob(li)vious - lantia4ever. (One of my very favorites. So cute.) 
Stephen starts getting some weird looks from the Avengers, spanning across disturbed, confused and even scared all the way to curious. He dismisses it at first until weird turns into knowing.
And knowing turns into realizing...even if the scheming teenagers had to all but paint it on the walls for him to do so. Oh wait...
Applied Combinatorics in Two-Player Games - 28ghosts. (Short and fun and full of snark.)
After a battle, Tony Stark and Stephen Strange argue about games.
-
“Chess is not a solved problem.”
“Has been since ‘97, Kasparov versus Deep Blue. Kasparov, 1; Deep Blue, 2; three draws.”
“Chess is a game, not a problem.”
The Courtship of Peter Parker's Father (Figures) - flyingonfeatherlesswings. (Peter plays matchmaker! Adorable.)
Peter couldn't stand to sit by while Tony and Stephen danced around each other any longer. Something had to be done.
Speaking Eyes - Vrishchika. (Not Steve Friendly. Tony is amazing in this. And Stephen is so fantastically dramatic.)
Tony has always had expressive eyes.
The Signs of Sleep Deprivation - FriendlyNeighborhoodFangirls. (Another self-rec. <3)
"Tony said to put the potato in the dishwasher, so that's what I did."
Sometimes, Avengers just show up to say hi. Sometimes, they all show up at once, and Tony makes an party out of it. Sometimes, he invites the snarky, oblivious, somewhat insecure wizard because, and Peter quotes: "everyone else is coming".
Sometimes, something needs to be done.
Show Me Your Scars (And I'll Show You Mine) - Imagined. (Adorable. Lovely. Imagined does it again.)
The worst part is that Stephen keeps tucking his hands away, just as Tony wants to hold them. He keeps hiding them, surreptitiously, no matter what they’re doing. It’s only when Tony kisses Stephen, or hugs him, that he feels the hands settle on his back, uncertain, ready to pull back within seconds.
It only makes him want to cuddle up to Stephen even more, but he backs away, not sure if it’d be welcome.
Promise? Promise. - sharonscarters. (AU, kidfic, absolutely adorable.) 
A four year old Tony Stark runs away from home and finds his Guardian Angel.
What The Doctor Ordered - wakandan_wardog. (Post CW. Kind of not Rogues friendly? So fun, makes me smile. I re-read this one a lot.)
The Rogue Avengers are called back to New York because the heavy hitters are going to be needed against Thanos. Of course, there are some truths that Steve Rogers will need to accept sooner rather than later. Tony Stark has moved on and Stephen Strange will not suffer fools lightly.
Hurt/Comforty ones:
Among The Chaos of The Stars (You're My Safe Harbour) - ShootMeDead. (Oh my vishanti. OH MY VISHANTI. So so so so SO good.) 
Stephen has always been able to hear the stars. Tony is the only one who can silence them.
each night like a white noise frequency - Phierie. (I ADORE THIS FIC. OKAY. I LOVE IT. READ IT.)
Stephen is no stranger to making hard choices. He doesn’t regret his actions on Titan, but months later they weigh on his mind heavier than ever; the cracks begin to show.
Just An Accident - CucumbersInGold. (I really like fics with Stephen’s hands and the difficulties thereabout. Idk, just one of my favorite things. This is beautiful). 
Stephen's hands act up.
Learning, Unlearning - Caaaaaaas. (More character study than anything else. Really good.)
Whatever Stephen wanted with life, life just didn’t seem to know what to do with him.
In which Stephen learns and unlearns some very important lessons.
your eyes have their silence - doctortwelfth. (Oh look it’s another scars fic. I told you I liked them.) 
Tony is gentle with Stephen’s hands even when Stephen forgets to be.
Burning Lines Into The Snow - petroltogo. (Not very Steve friendly. Short and sweet.)
Post CW: It's not just the team that's so broken they are barely able to comprehend how many parts they're missing now, how many have been ripped and twisted and torn. It's Tony as well, right down to the core, the damage so far-reaching even he doesn't know how to fix it.
And then there's Strange, who has his own way of covering the cracks.
Old Bones - CJtheWeeb. (Owch. Dumb geniuses trying to be invulnerable.)
Sometimes Stephen Strange has great days, where he was nearly pain free and his hands still enough to where he could pick up a cup of water and barely spill a drop.
Today was not one of those days.
something taken, something new - meowrails. (So in-character. The premise was a little off to me, but I’m so glad I decided to read this one. I really really like this fic.)
The ChronicConnection implement and app allows a person that lives with chronic or illness-induced pain to transfer their burden temporarily to a willing loved one.
Tony and Stephen sign up as beta testers.
Angsty ones (happy ending unless otherwise mentioned):
day one - days4daisy. (THIS IS SO GOOD OKAY IF YOU READ NOTHING ELSE ON THIS LIST READ THIS).
Three days in Stark Tower. Stephen must be in bad shape if he just agreed to this.
His Merlin - babywarg (morphaileffect). (This author keeps showing up on this list because they are A LEGEND. A LEGEND I TELL YOU.) 
As a child, Tony imagined himself a Knight of the Round Table. Little did he know he would grow up to be a king. And that he would have a wizard by his side to lead him to either glory or destruction.
there is no heart for me like yours - turtle_abyss. (Soulmate AU! Wonderful. <3)
Being able to feel your soulmate - a phantom touch, a bone-deep awareness - is a divine torture. To know, but not see. To seek, but not find. To feel someone holding your hand and not be able to hold theirs.
Grace - StrangeMischief. (*cries in beautiful fic* Happy ending!)
“Pain’s an old friend.” 
Us...Me - StrangeMischief. (This will hurt you. So melancholy. Pepper and Tony live their life, and Tony remembers. Not a happy ending.) 
“I don’t believe in happily ever after.” 
One-Thousand Cranes - FriendlyNeighborhoodFangirls. (Self rec, sorry. Hopeful ending.) 
After it all, a man with shaking hands makes a wish.
courtesy - deathofglitter. (Dealing with the fourteen-million futures. So good.) 
Stark looked at him like he looked at the amulet that rested on his chest like a steady promise - dutiful, a bit burdened, and trying to hold a profound lack of personal emotion whatsoever, still personal enough to protect as anyone would a precious object.
La Douleur Exquise - BananasofThorns, StrangeMischief. (More pain. Pepper and Tony, and Stephen watching and trying not to wish. Very good, no happy ending.)
The before was easy. There were fewer boxes in their minds and no chains around their hearts. There was no hurt. No tears. No dreams.
But those days were long gone.
Stigmata - babywarg (morphaileffect). (AU! Soulmates again. Very interesting, beautifully done.)
Since Stephen was little, mysterious wounds have appeared and disappeared on his body, leaving mysterious scars. His mother says it's because he's one of a Pair, and he's absorbing pain meant for someone else.
*wipes brow* PHEW! That gotta a little more in-depth than I first intended... Have fun, my MysticIron friends. Happy quarantine. 
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capricornus-rex · 4 years
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The Haunt of Redemption (3)
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Sequel to: A Path I Can’t Follow
gif not mine, for header purposes only. it belongs to @sovahunter​
Chapter 3: Runt of the Litter | Cal Kestis x Reader
Summary: It has been months since your last encounter with Cal, at that time he was a fledgling Inquisitor. In an ironic twist of fate, you cross paths and blades with him once again, and he’s keen on turning you into an Inquisitor as well—unless you bring him back to the light first.
Tags: Dark Side! Cal Kestis, Inquisitor! Cal Kestis, Redemption Arc! Cal Kestis
Also posted in AO3
Chapters: 1 | Previous: Chapter 2 | Next: Chapter 4 | Masterlist
3 of ?
Koboth remained the unforgiving wasteland that it was.
The Eleventh Brother, the Fortress’s new habitant, was a force that nobody had seen coming.
In the first week since he came in, Cal had already established his authority in the stronghold; it wasn’t the imposing uniform and weapon, nor was it his blank yet steady expression.
It had something to do with his own powers.
Like most of the Inquisitors, he is a Force-sensitive. For someone his age, he was cunning and powerful—one would dare say, even just in their head, that he was above from the other Inquisitors. As accomplished as he might be—he was still the odd one out, the loner, the quiet one. The late Second Sister might have been his equal in terms of combat skill, caliber of Force abilities, and the mental prowess.
“Shame that they put him in a lower rank, I thought he was the new favorite,” the Eighth Sister scoffed one time to the other Inquisitors when he was recently anointed into his rank.
“Not surprised,” the Seventh Sister concurred in the conversation she shared with her fellow Mirialan. “That only meant he still has to prove himself if he wants to climb higher.”
Rarely a time did the other Inquisitors ever approached him, not even for an opinion or insight in their plans, under the impression that he’s too good for them or the other way around. They always spoke of him from a distance or behind his back. Either way, he wouldn’t have minded.
Instead, Cal whiled away his time in the dojo. As a matter of fact, it was the only thing he did out of his own volition—the conferences were compulsory. His only audience? A couple of Stormtroopers assigned to watch over from the control room.
“Wow, he’s really into this whole practice thing,” A Stormtrooper blurted to his comrade. “That’s all he’s ever done since he got here!”
“Yeah, this is the third time this week he’s gone here. I think he’s the only one who actually uses this place—except for the Purge guys.”
They watched as they remained in their post. For every Purge Trooper that came walking out of the holding cells in the dojo, the young Inquisitor wouldn’t make them last long in the duel. The longest he’s gone against with is a pair of them—an electrohammer wielder and a staff wielder. The boy made use of the movable grates, relocating them using the Force, and utilizing them to amplify his attacks.
When the staff-wielding Purge Trooper split his weapon in half, it didn’t make much of a difference as the young Eleventh Brother deflected his attack with his own split saber while deflecting the electrohammer with the other blade.
“Gotta admit that was impressive,” the guard bantered and his co-worker agreed with a weak “Yeah.”
The Eleventh Brother pulled away from both opponents, inflicted Slow on the brute and sent a flurry of attacks to the dual-wielder for the time being. The Purge Trooper’s jaw met Cal’s elbow, causing him to drop his weapons—which Cal stole one of them and used it on its owner, sending a wild shock into the body until the opponent fumbled and was at the mercy of the boy Inquisitor. When that was finished, Cal returned his attention to the electrohammer Purge Trooper, disarmed the larger fighter by slashing across his shin guards until his knees fell to the ground.
With that, Cal emerged the victor—after five waves of opponents—and the two Purge Troopers yielded for today. They quickly regained their composure, stretching their shoulders and collecting their weapons.
“Someday, I’ll take him down in spar practice,” the duel-wielding Purge Trooper mumbled.
“Hah, not unless he kills you in the process first!”
Today, the Stormtroopers had just witnessed a true demonstration of Cal’s raw power.
That scene had further cemented their fear of the boy Inquisitor.
Cal exited the dojo and made his way to his bedchambers. The officers that were in his general direction—regardless of rank, whether it’s an admiral or a cadet—avoided eye contact from him, but some looked at him with a curious or trivial look, as if admiring how could such a young man have that much influence without even speaking much. Some even likened him to Darth Vader, but it was a stretch.
Aside from the dojo, his bedchamber was his primary sanctuary.
“Home sweet home,” he muttered to himself as he removed his mask.
By rote, he retreated to the bathroom to wash off the grime that had gathered on his face and body, he wets his hair and stubble for good measure. Even after the course of seven months, he still hasn’t gotten used to his overall appearance, especially the redness faint dark tint on his hair even if he’s never altered anything on his body; a faint pink shade ran along the bottom rims of his eyes retells the training he’s endured, as well as the lonesomeness in the solace of his bedroom.
If he isn’t fighting in the dojo or attending those mandatory meetings, Cal spent his time researching on the holotable in his room. Reports from Stormtroopers and hired spies of your whereabouts are immediately transmitted to him, although the pickings were very slim, he was almost impressed by how elusive you and the crew were.
“Now, where have you run off to?” he mumbled, particularly to the still holographic image of you projected in his holotable.
Eventually, he came to a standstill with his own research, hoping to require more reports from the Stormtroopers and spies in every possible planet you may have gone to—Takodana, Kashyyyk, Zeffo, even Dathomir was an option no matter how much you disliked it as Cal recalled.
“Nothing… just nothing,” he sighed in defeated.
He combed back his hair with his fingers as he steered away from his holotable after slamming the off switch. He leaned against the wall of glass that gave him the view of the barren horizon that stretched beyond the lava rivers. His forehead thumped against the glass as he took deep breaths.
Cal didn’t want to admit it, even if hard training has been ingrained into his mind and body for seven months now, he still feels lost in all of this. The Eighth Sister shrugged it off as the same feeling as being the newcomer of the town—which is exactly just that. The excelled in all aspects of the training, further improving the training he’s received under Jaro Tapal, impressed—and intimidated—the ranking officers present in the main command center with his unconventional yet effective strategies, and silently climbing his way through the ranks.
In the midst of the silence—which he enjoyed—he hoped that there would be something to come up any moment… but there was none.
The viewscreen fixed upon his wall suddenly fizzled to life, he paid attention to the admiral seen on the other end of the call.
“Admiral,” Cal acknowledged.
“Eleventh Brother, the Grand Inquisitor will be transmitting a message. Shall I relay it to you?”
“Yes, Admiral.”
“Very good, my lord.”
The call rippled and then faded out. Cal donned his Inquisitor outfit with an urgency and pressed the button to bring his holotable back to life. Shortly after, the projection of the Grand Inquisitor’s bust hovered and occupied the center space of the holotable, it was large enough to prompt Cal to step back a few paces just so he wouldn’t hurt his neck.
“I hope you haven’t gotten dry on the girl’s trail, Eleventh Brother,” the Grand Inquisitor hummed.
“It won’t be long until we find the girl and her treasonous crew, Grand Inquisitor,”
“Remember your true objective here, Eleventh Brother, the precious cargo that they have with them is what you should set your sights on. The girl is merely collateral,” the Grand Inquisitor’s projection cracked static in between words but then continued. “If she does prove to be powerful like you say, then we will bring her to our ranks. Only then will she realize the magnitude that the Dark Side could factor in her powers.”
“Never have I doubted that insight, Grand Inquisitor,”
“Very good. I expect many a great things from you, my boy.”
Without the formal conclusion, the Grand Inquisitor switched off his transmission and his hologram crackled away into the air.
The pressure is on, but Cal didn’t dwell too much as it would have completely compromised his focus. The idea of taking you in, turning you into an Inquisitor, constantly ran in the back of his head—it was the outcome that he hopes for. He wanted to meditate—he longed for that dark tranquility—but can’t seem to find the peace that will help him latch on to connecting with the Force. The activity has become staler for him nowadays, if he did try, it went back to the exact same as he was before: he loses control while under the trance.
Cal decided it would be a good idea to take a walk. He ended up observing the assembly procedure of the facility from a reasonable distance on a platform. The whole factory worked in a harmony in piecing together the parts: heavy metal banged on the thick conveyor belts, sparks spewed out from the joints of the machines, until the machines have created the finished products—ship parts that will still undergo a second stage of assembly, power cores that glowed bright orange as it came fresh from the manufacturer.
Much later, he was joined by the Fourth Brother. A smug bastard, as Cal always thought.
“I see machines fascinate you,”
Cal rolled his eyes and had no choice but to wallow in this banter, “I grew up around them.”
“Ah yes, I recall the Second Sister calling you something of a sort,” the Fourth Brother, Ezir, pondered. He unnecessarily snapped his fingers as if trying to recall the word.
“A scrapper.” The boy grumbled.
“Ah! That’s the one,” he sniggered and continued to watch with the Eleventh Brother. “Look at that one, over there. Isn’t that worker pretty? Looking past that oil and grime on her face, I wager she would look divine.”
The Eleventh Brother didn’t comment on that, he kept silent and continued observing the manufacturing.
“Oh, I’m sorry, I forget that you already have the love of your life! Though she’s in one side of the galaxy, and you absolutely have no idea where she is,” Ezir scoffed. “I saw her once that time in Magyon. I have to say, she is rather beautiful. How many men do you think have thrown themselves over to—”
While keeping cool, Ezir struggled on his next words. He tugged his collar a bit, coughed, gulped, and cleared his throat. The faint squeak of a glove prompted him to turn to Cal and noticed that his hand was positioned to a grapple, then he turned the Fourth Brother to look at him in the eye.
The boy Inquisitor’s face creased, mouth curled to a snarl, and a fiery rage burned behind his clear, blank, quiet eyes.
“String your words carefully, Fourth, they’re not always as smooth as you think they are.”
The Fourth Brother gurgled in his own spit, struggling to speak a single word back at the Eleventh Brother. He looked almost pitiful in Cal’s eyes, it doubled when he yielded, tapping his chest—crumpling his dress shirt in the process—until his tormentor released his grip.
“Bastard,” Cal scoffed as he walked out on Ezir and left the observation platform.
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eriong · 3 years
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hello! ⚜️
this is a sideblog for music.
you will find: reblogs of images, gifs, moodboards, icons, memes. smatterings of original content. i might also occasionally reblog/post takes regarding some news, the industry, and music in general. i will try to spotlight artists from india.
my ask box is open! come have a chat. ★
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— about
pronouns: any
location: india/UK
age: 20s
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— genres 
metal, rock, k-pop, a bit of industrial, post-punk, new wave, jazz and indie.
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— (a few) favourite artists -
jinjer, deftones, the contortionist, gutslit, lorna shore, brand of sacrifice, in this moment, haken, between the buried and me, myrkur, iwrestledabearonce, motionless in white,
linkin park, faith no more, oeil, hyukoh, evanescence, skyharbor, polyphia, rolling quartz, the sisters of mercy, bring me the horizon
onlyoneof, vixx, dreamcatcher, pixy, p1harmony, red velvet, stellar, rainbow, sunmi, ha:tfelt, taemin, lesserafim
massive attack, portishead, hiatus kaiyote, dirty loops, soulmate, lulileela, se so neon, bauhaus, the cure, nine inch nails, skinny puppy, aphex twin, sevdaliza
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(updated on 16 april, 2023) 
cr.:
icon: iree from rolling quartz
header: by me!
image: @iconvenus​
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myinconnelly1 · 4 years
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Myin’s FAQ
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Normal Questions:
Is your name Myin?
No, but you can call me that!! I will answer to it!
Is your page safe for anyone under 18?
No it’s not.  I want to be very clear here.  I love and appreciate every single one of my followers.  But this page has fics/art with consenual and non-consensual sex.  So please wait until your birthday.  At which point you can come on over and we’ll have a party!!!
Can I request a fic? Are requests open?
My requests are always open.  I also have Commissions available. The catch is EVERYTHING is at the mercy of my muse.  And I may or may not get to it.  Also I haven’t watched season 14-15 of Supernatural…
I want to read a fic of yours but I’m worried that it will squick/trigger me.
Hey, no problem.  Send me a message and I’ll be happy to tell you if those things are in my fic.  Everyone has their preferences and not everything is for you.  If everyone loved Vanilla the world would be a boring place.
I want to send you an ask but am nervous to talk to you.
Well that’s ok.  I’m pretty sure everyone on this site started out at least slightly introverted.  I have my anon on, and it’s just for you! Not for haters, you fuckers need to get up off of this page.
Do you have a Masterlist?
Yes I do! It’s on the side of my main page or in my header!!! << ^^  It is laid out very specifically so if you have trouble finding something let me know!!
I’m a writer and I want to write a Fanfic of Myin’s fanfic. OR I want to write a Fanfic with Myin as a character in my fic, is that ok?
YES!  That’s super cool that you love my work so much that you want to explore other parts of it!  Hit me up in the DM's to talk about it, and go for it!! Then Tag me it!
Can we be friends?
Yes we can!  Send me a DM and I’ll be happy to chat it up with you.  Though I will warn you.  I will probably spam you with my fics if we get friendly.
Tag List Questions -
Can I be on Myin’s tag list? 
Yes, you can as long as dumblr will let me.
Can I tag Myin in my works? 
Yes, but I will not ask to be put on your tag list.  I’m super inconsistent because of my kids.  So if you tag me in something I may or may not get to it… now, soon, or ever.  And with Tumblrs inability to actually tag people regularly it’s more of a pain in the ass then it should be.  If you want to tag me cause you think it will interest me, or if you want your stuff in circulation that’s cool with me!  
Can I tag myin in Games or random shit?
Yes!  I love games, and random shit!  The only thing I won’t do is pictures of me.
Some of my repeated tags:
Singing my praises-
This was a joke, I use this tag for all the reblogs of feedback that people send me.
Myin Gushes - 
If you follow this tag, you will see everything that i read!
My Charlie-
You should totally follow this tag to see all the shenanigans between me and @emilyshurley​ who is the little sister i never knew i wanted.
Smut Responsibly-
Ok so I’m not as consistent with this one as i should be, but if i write smut, i try to use this tag.
Shameless Self Toot - 
Again a bit of a joke.  This is usually if someone asks to have a fic recommended and I have one that fits the bill.  You can’t always rely on someone else to remember your fics and I think you have to take the initiative and put yourself out there.
Myin and the Three Mini’s- 
Anything that has to do with my children, will most likely have this tag.
Myin babbles-
this is for any time I talk about something and it doesn’t pertain to anything.
Non!con OR Dub!con-
These are two tags that I use in my fics.  Please note that if these are triggering to you, please blacklist them so that you don’t see those fics.  They exist.  Also if you are triggered by these things and you read them, that’s on you.  I try to tag them.  And i post warnings at the top of my fics before the keep reading line.  I have tried to protect you.
blog Business-
Anything that has to do with blog updates or changes in layout!
Myin’s ever expanding list of Squicks:
MPreg
‘Baby girl’
Daddy kink
dom/sub (for writing only)
Rpf (for Writing only)
Non-canon ships other than x Reader/ofc  (marvel excluded from this)
Unhappy endings after miscarriage (this is an odd one, as I have written and might write it again, but please don’t tag me in it/ ask me to write it)
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dc-earth53 · 4 years
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#0001: Superman (Clark Kent/Kal-El)
Age: 45
Occupation: Reporter, adventurer
Marital status: Married
Known relatives: Jor-El (father, deceased), Lara Lor-Van (mother, deceased), Jonathan Kent (adoptive father), Martha Kent (adoptive mother), Lois Lane-Kent (wife), Jon Kent (son), Conner Kent/Kon-El (clone “brother”), Zor-El (uncle, deceased), Alura In-Ze (aunt, deceased), Kara Zor-El (cousin), Karen Starr (clone “cousin”), Lucy Lane (sister-in-law), Sam Lane (father-in-law, deceased). 
Group affiliation: Justice League of America
Base of operations: Fortress of Solitude, the Arctic
Height: 6’3”
Weight: 235 lbs.
History: 
45 years ago:
Jor-El and Lara send infant Kal-El to Earth to escape the destruction of the planet Krypton.
Kal-El’s rocket is found by Jonathan and Martha Kent near Smallville, Kansas. The Kents adopt him as their own son, naming him Clark.
33 years ago: 12-year-old Clark befriends Lana Lang and Pete Ross.
29 years ago: 
16-year-old Clark’s latent Kryptonian abilities including super-strength, flight, and invulnerability begin to emerge, thanks to time spent underneath Earth’s yellow sun. The Kents reveal to him his alien heritage, and he begins doing good in secret.
Clark and Lana begin dating, and Clark reveals the secret of his powers to Lana.
24 years ago: 21-year-old Clark graduates from journalism school at the University of Kansas and sets off to see the world, doing freelance reporting during his travels. Clark and Lana amicably end their relationship.
20 years ago: 
25-year-old Clark stops an experimental spacecraft from crashing in front of a crowd of people, and the incident leads him to decide that it’s time to come out from the shadows. Martha fashions a costume for him from his baby blanket, emblazoned with the family crest of the House of El.
Clark moves to Metropolis and gets a job at the Daily Planet as a reporter, meeting reporter Lois Lane, editor Perry White, and intern Jimmy Olsen.
Dubbed “Superman” by the media after saving Daily Planet staff from a helicopter crash, Clark makes his costumed debut while his identity remains a secret. 
Superman makes an enemy of billionaire Lex Luthor, who believed him to be an extraterrestrial threat to humanity.
19 years ago:
Superman meets Batman, and the pair team up to solve a series of murders.
Superman has his first encounters with opponents such as Mr. Mxyzptlk, Metallo, Toyman, and Rampage.
Clark and Lois begin dating.
Superman becomes a charter member of the Justice League of America after helping to repel an alien invasion of Earth.
18 years ago:  Superman meets the Eradicator, a Kryptonian artificial intelligence dedicated to the preservation of Kryptonian culture and driven to turn Earth into a second Krypton. The Eradicator builds a citadel in the Arctic, which Superman repurposes as his Fortress of Solitude.
17 years ago: 
Superman discovers the body of his cousin, Kara Zor-El, in suspended animation, when a rocket similar to the one he arrived in crashes to Earth. Kara takes on his colors and symbol and joins the fight for truth and justice as Supergirl.
Superman first encounters Brainiac, a rogue artificial intelligence from the planet Colu, when one of his probes arrives on Earth in pursuit of Kara’s rocket.
The shrunken Kryptonian city of Kandor is recovered from Brainiac and taken to the Fortress of Solitude.
16 years ago: Superman releases Dru-Zod and Ursa, Kryptonian war criminals, from imprisonment in the Phantom Zone, but is forced to re-imprison them when they attempt to take over Earth and turn it into a new Krypton. 
15 years ago: Superman is abducted by Mongul, the ruler of the artifical planet Warworld, and forced to compete in gladiatorial combat. He leads a revolution among the slaves on Warworld, and escapes, forcing Mongul to retreat. 
14 years ago: Superman first encounters Darkseid, despotic ruler of the planet Apokolips.
13 years ago: Mongul returns to Earth on Superman’s birthday, attacking him with the parasitic Black Mercy plant and trapping him in a world of his own fantasies.
12 years ago:
In the wake of Checkmate’s offensive on the Justice League, revealed to be a plot by Brainiac, Superman moves to disband the team.
Clark proposes to Lois, revealing to her his secret identity as Superman.
11 years ago: 
Superman, along with the rest of Earth’s heroes, fight against the Anti-Monitor. Supergirl perishes in the battle.
Superman encounters Bizarro, an early, flawed result of an attempt to replicate Kryptonian DNA.  
9 years ago:
Superman falls in battle against the living weapon Doomsday.
The Eradicator places Superman in a Kryptonian healing matrix hidden within the Fortress of Solitude, restoring him to life after a few months of hibernation.
Clark and Lois are wed.
8 years ago:
Clark and Lois’s son, Jon Kent is born.
Superman comes into conflict with pragmatic vigilante Manchester Black and his Elite.
7 years ago:
Superman fights against the Joker, who had stolen Mr. Mxyzptlk’s powers and twisted the Earth into his own image.
A third Kryptonian rocket crashes on Earth, containing Krypto, a dog-like creature belonging to Jor-El and Lara. Krypto comes to reside at the Fortress of Solitude.
Superman and Earth’s heroes fight against the allied forces of Imperiex, Brainiac, and Darkseid.
5 years ago: After a battle against Lex Luthor, who had given himself Kryptonian powers, Superman loses his powers from heavy exposure to red sunlight and temporarily retires.
4 years ago:
Superman’s powers return, in time for him to foil a new plot from  Luthor.
Superman foils an attempt from Brainiac to bottle Metropolis, restoring Kandor to its proper size in the process and locating it in the Arctic. Around the same time, Jonathan Kent passes away of a heart attack.
3 years ago: 
After failing to integrate with humanity, the citizens of Kandor use Brainiac’s technology to relocate Kandor to a new planet opposite Earth’s orbit - “New Krypton.”
New Krypton, led by Zod and Ursa, declares war on Earth as the new planet proves to be unstable. Superman and Earth’s heroes drive them off, but not without suffering many losses, which leave Superman as the true last son of Krypton.
2 years ago:  The Kent family leaves Metropolis for an extended period of time, taking a trip across America to reconnect with ordinary people. Eventually, they settle down in Hamilton County, Pennsylvania, a rural area west of Metropolis.
1 year ago:
Superman defeats Darkseid,  who had returned to Earth in search of the Anti-Life Equation, removing his threat from the universe seemingly for good.
Superman receives a warm welcome back to Metropolis when he’s attacked by Hank Henshaw and his Superman Revenge Squad.
Present Day: Clark helps 8-year-old Jon deal with his sudden development of powers similar to his father’s.
Commentary:
Superman’s origin is so iconic that Grant Morrison summed it up in just eight words: “Doomed planet. Desperate scientists. Last hope. Kindly couple.” In light of this, I see no reason to mess with a good thing. That being said, the story of Superman’s public debut has been retold with major differences four or five times now between the various Crises, and that makes things tricky to pin down. 
The version I ended up writing is mostly inspired by Superman: Birthright by Mark Waid. (Sorry, anyone who’s a fan of Clark as Superboy. While I don’t hate the concept, it raises the question of “why doesn’t anyone associate Superboy and thus Superman with Clark?” it doesn’t really bring anything valuable to the table that can’t be put elsewhere in the timeline: the Legion is more associated with Supergirl in this timeline, and Krypto is moved to later on.) His post-Crisis history is mostly intact, although with a few notable omissions, mainly Superman Blue. I hope nobody will miss that too much.
Superman’s history sets the timeline for the rest of the universe - while other heroes’ origins occur before his public debut, he’s the first of the major figures of the Age of Heroes to debut, twenty years prior to the present day. The rest of the Trinity follows within a year of his appearance, along with most of the iconic Silver Age DC heroes. This Superman is forty-five years of age at the current point in the timeline: a seasoned superhero who has saved the world time and time again, but who also lives a simple life as a family man with Lois and Jon.
He may be a Kryptonian by genetics, but at his core, thanks to his upbringing from Ma and Pa Kent, he’s a human - one who happens to have to balance his extraordinary powers and responsibility to the world (wait, is this Spider-Man all of a sudden?) with his alien heritage and the complications derived from such. He’s a champion of the oppressed, standing up for the “little guy” and those who can’t defend themselves against powers both great and small. Out of the Trinity, he best embodies hope - when the situation seems at its most dire, Superman’s the one to keep the faith and rally for one last push. He’s the hero who lands on a rooftop beside someone who’s about to jump and just sits beside them while they make their decision.
As for Superman’s costume, he’s currently sporting the Reborn look, sans trunks. I’m not saying the trunks are outright bad or silly, and envision them as being part of his original costume for certain, but the costume in the header is what he currently uses in this universe.
Have any questions about Superman or anything else? My asks are open!
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hero--for--fun · 4 years
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Hi! For your how hot is that character: Mumen Rider, Amai Mask, Zombieman and Saitama. Also, who is the person in the middle in your header? Is it you? Thank you!
MUMEN RIDER
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Not My Type | Alright | Cute | Adorable | Pretty | Gorgeous | LORD MERCY
He is genuinely one of my favorite characters, and such a good boy. I wish they’d let him win at least one fight so he’ll be confident enough to Class B.
Imma put the others under a cut, purely because I’m using images
AMAI MASK
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Not My Type | Alright | Cute | Adorable | Pretty | Gorgeous | LORD MERCY
He’s handsome, and normally I’d give into that, but he’s really not my type. He looks like the kind of guy who’d make a big thing about how he’s taking the unpopular girl to prom, but then when he wins prom king he ditches her for the popular girl. He looks like he’s about to insult my anime keychains in that “Sorry not sorry” way, like “Wow, I didn’t know that anime was so old, surely those are from your childhood!”
ZOMBIEMAN
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Not My Type | Alright | Cute | Adorable | Pretty | Gorgeous | LORD MERCY
You’ve found my biggest weakness. I’m a sucker for scary/bad guys who are good with kids! The second he talked to Child Emperor, my heart fluttered.,,,I want to hold his hand.
SAITAMA
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Not My Type | Alright | Cute | Adorable | Pretty | Gorgeous | LORD MERCY
His looks are a meh for me unless he’s in his serious form. Even serious Saitama is a bit meh, but you know what, he’s alright. 
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(Art done by @iudormu )
Yep, that’s technically me in the middle!
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I started playing A Hero Nobody Knows recently and made my character into my self insert/OPM oc. Her real names Inuko, she has a twin sister, and the association picked her hero  name because a mix of her fighting style and making fun of her for something they witnessed.
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mysmedrabbles · 5 years
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RFA Comforting an MC with Terrible Period Pains
requested: by anonymous 
a/n: oh my god the header is a MOOD for this ask. enJOY and hAVE FUN READING THIS therES SO MUCHCOFFEEINMYSYSTEMHHHHH want to support my period-ic writing ayy see what i did there? then feel free to buy me a coffee!
warnings: aside from that terrible pun you just witnessed? n/a
-AAAAAAAARRRGHHHHHH mod alex
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Jumin
-he finds you clutching your stomach, sweat beading your forehead as you move from uncomfortable position to uncomfortable position, mastering positions he’d figured only Elizabeth the III could do
-worry creases his forehead as he rushes to your side, touching your side gingerly, almost scared that you’ll crumble under his fingers, but all you do is let out a pained groan, unable to speak as the pounding in your head grows louder with each stab through your gut
- “mC aRe YoU dYiNg???” 
-through pained gesturing, he finally understands that you’re not dying, just going through a torture worse than death
-has no idea what to do, just lays down with you, holding your hand and rubbing soothing circles on your back
-as soon as you finally fall asleep, he’s calling the doctor, wanting a professionals opinion on how best to lessen your pain
-poor doctor in his mind is probably like, “you,,,could have looked this up,,, on your phone,, that you used,,, to call me,,,,,,,, at 1 IN THE MORNING”
-he feels awkward, not being able to help you with more than a hot bottle on your stomach and keeping you company, running his hands through your hair and massaging your temples as he sits with you, helping you the only way he knows how, by rambling about the stock market
-at some point you tune out what he’s saying, focusing on his voice and the comforting patterns hes tracing on your skin
-you can bet that he buys you the most expensive german chocolate, anything that you want, anything you crave will be imported right away and be on your front doorstep the next morning
-he most likely has a calendar app on his phone where he keeps approximate track of your cycle so that he’s always prepared to give you extra special attention and care
-when he goes on business trips that last longer than a week, he has a box specifically made, kind of like a care package containing but not limited to:
-the finest chocolate (10 different kinds! with a surplus of your favourite!)
-those emergency hospital crack-and-place heat packets, good to keep on your lower back and uterus 
-oranges and broccoli (though these tend to be in the fridge)
-with a small note on how much he loves you and will see you tonight on call, telling you to take care of yourself and leaving the doctors phone number in case of an emergency 
Jaehee
-she KNOWS the pain,, she K N O W S 
-im not saying that at some point your cycles start happening at the same time, but thats exactly what I’m saying (i have no idea how this happens irl but it does and?? idk its odd)
-so generally the two of you are sitting home together, laying sprawled on the couch, 4 Ibuprofen between the two of you as you watch Zen’s old musicals, watching Jaehee sleepily hum along as she holds you against her chest, stroking your hair and bringing up your hand to her mouth, kissing your knuckles as the two of you fall asleep together 
-she knows you have a harder time than her when your period rolls around, so she has a tendency to insist that you don’t stress yourself out at work, keeping you mostly behind the counter where you’re not carrying hot liquids for too long. 
-helping you out whenever she can, hugging you from behind as you struggle to stand on your feet, giving you momentary support as she takes the cup from your hands, instructing you to sit down
-no one has ever seen her so lenient with someone when it comes to work
-you log onto the server to gush about Jaehee, posting pictures of her running around at work, helping customers, “ThAtS mY wIFe Y’aLL”
-she has a special coffee brew that she only breaks out when you’re in severe pain, added her secret ingredient (which she refuses to tell you about) that somehow make everything better 
-practically begging her to judo kick you in the spine because goddamnit it hurts so bad (she doesn't, opting for a soothing massage instead)
-kisses and cuddles galore, she puts the care in “caring for you,” to the point where she doesn't complain about her own mediocre periods upon seeing just how bad the pain is with you (please take care of her anyways she deserves the best)
Yoosung
-listen,, this boy grew up with sisters and a mother, he’s practically a pro when it comes to helping you out
-the second he sees you rush into the restroom in a panic, he’s already getting the pill bottle and hot bottle out, doing the bed the way you like it and pulling out your favourite blanket and warm stuffed animal 
-insists to take care of you the whole time, and is willing to skip school to stay home with you,, its only after threatening him from the bed, wagging your finger weakly at him does he actually go, however he’s one to send you worrying text messages through the whole day, and silly photos of a leaf he saw or a funny cat meme
-he cooks for you like theres no tomorrow, and is always extremely apologetic when he gets home an hour later than normal due to grocery shopping, only to find you having finally fallen asleep, stuffed animal discarded neatly on the bedside table, hugging his pillow instead
-his eyes soften, heartrate slowing down as he gazes on your sleeping form
-trying his best not to disturb you, he tiptoes out of the room, getting your favourite dinner ready, and trying his best to make something with your preferred chocolate
-you hobble out of the room sleepily, the smell of food drawing you to the kitchen
-he’ll immediately drop everything, running to you as he helps you to a chair, chiding you for getting up and straining yourself when you could have just called for him
-playing video games together lazily, him joking that he should let you win, but this just drives you to beat his ass in mariokart, absolutely demolishing him with no mercy
-he sits there shell shocked as you sit next to him grinning 
Seven 
-he’s versed in over five languages, survived the worst years of his life, is number one in the Shooting Star Server, the best hacker on the planet, and yet he has no preparation on how to help you through periods
-he knows the basics, but seeing you in such pain makes him rethink everything he thought he knew
-he sees you constantly shifting, arching your back in a vain attempt to crack it, crack any bone for momentary relief, and decides this is his time to shine and help you somewhat
-he gives the best back massages, working the pressure points on your lower back, and getting out all the knots in your shoulders, pressing kisses to your shoulder blades as he goes along, fingers working on the entirety of your back.
-shares his Honey Buddha Chips with you, even letting you take three or more bags, as long as you promise to not waste any that is.
-keeps you away from spicy foods, dairy and phD pepper, his technical knowledge had gotten him that far at least, and even though you’re more than happy to eat junk food for a week straight, for the first time ever he insists on eating better, giving you foods such as salmon and oranges,, only after heavy persuasion and multiple times of you threatening him does he let you have chocolate 
-he stays with you the whole time, making sure you’re laughing and taking care of yourself, trying his best to ease the pain with terrible terrible jokes and horrible Saeran impressions
-he knows that you dont like having a heating pad on your stomach because its so weird barely being able to move and having to stay in one place, so he places his laptop on your stomach, letting it overheat on your pelvic area as the two of you play fireboy and watergirl
Zen
-before we start i just wanna say Zen is 100% the type of guy who would hold no disgust or immature “ew thats icky”type attitude to the thought of buying his s/o menstrual products and he looks down on any man that does have that attitude
-he’s not quite versed in how to help you, but he’s a fast learner, and would rather rely on your own reactions to his help and seeing what works for you as opposed to just asking the void that is the internet what is supposed to help
-he’s one to carry you everywhere while you’re on your period, not letting you strain yourself for fear you’ll get off balance, fall and hurt yourself, and he’s constantly referencing you as his prince(ss), even more than usual
-singing you to sleep, letting his melodious voice wash over you as he holds you close, letting his natural body warmth keep you warm
-strokes your hair as you lay down, exhausted from all the pain, your body physically not able to stay awake anymore, practically blacking out
-if you cry, he’ll hold you, massaging your back and whispering soft comforts in your ear, but inside he’s pained by the distress this is causing you, and is mainly frustrated that he can’t do more
-sometimes he wakes up early in the morning to go for a jog or get breakfast for the two of you, and he’ll leave multiple sticky notes with sweet messages, ensuring that he’ll be back soon and to take it easy until he’s back home
-this man with Refuse to let you strain yourself in Any way, and will drop Everything to run over if he sees you so much as bending over to pick up something, practically throwing himself over the dropped item and insisting to pick it up for you
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lunachix · 4 years
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the sisters of mercy website is so old and shitty i love it anyways heres the header for their drum machine’s page
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raendown · 4 years
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Pairing: MadaraTobirama Word count: 4571 Chapter: 30/42 Summary: Not all wars are fought on the battlefield. Some are fought at the conference table, with whispers in the shadows, or even in the bedroom.
In a world where the Senju and Uchiha traditional lands were too far apart to have ever made them enemies, Butsuma and Tajima are the ones who come together and sign a treaty of peace. Madara isn’t happy to have his life signed away for him in a political marriage to strengthen the bond between their clans. He is even less happy to have Tobirama make assumptions of him from their very first night together. What follows from there is a journey of healing, of learning, and finding the places to belong in the places least expected.
Follow the link or read it under the cut!
KO-FI and commission info in the header!
Chapter 30
Although his original plan had been just to invite Kagami and his mother over for a private dinner things changed when Madara mentioned that Susumu had been the one to help his cute little student disappear, allowing their ultimate triumph to happen as it had. Of course Tobirama asked his husband to send her an invitation as well. Then on the way home he ran in to Hashirama who had heard about a missing child and came to offer his help. Adding his brother to the party only felt natural considering his kindness for a boy he’d never properly met other than seeing each other in passing and asking Hashirama to dinner meant he would likely be bringing Mito as well. With a rueful sigh Tobirama asked the man to swing by, pick up Touka just to round it all out, and sent runners to everyone involved that he was going to reserve a table at a barbeque joint that had just opened up in the marketplace.
Despite his worries that the table would be cramped things actually worked out fairly well. Kagami’s mother sent word with her son that she wasn’t comfortable dining so casually in the presence of so much political power. Tobirama made a mental note to send her a gift instead. He found himself situated rather comfortably between Madara and Kagami, Hashirama across from him with wife and cousin on either side, and Susumu sat at the end of the table perched on a bar stool that she had dragged over for a bit of extra height.
Having quite literally all of his precious people gathered in one spot did something funny to Tobirama’s insides that he refused to pay any deeper attention to. Besides the birthday party they had been to not long ago this was the biggest social gathering he’d attended since his wedding, something that made him wonder why he didn’t remember seeing Susumu that night, but the usual discomforts that came with being forced to socialize were not present. Instead he found himself quite relaxed as he allowed Madara to press comfortably in to his side and listened to the never-ending chatter around him.
Watching Hashirama and Kagami interact was almost as much of a treat as watching Mito and Susumu but in the end Tobirama was much more distracted watching his ever proper sister-in-law try to decide how to react in the face of Susumu’s honest roughness. There was a certain entertainment he couldn’t deny in seeing Mito flounder for once. It was only made all the more amusing by the way her eyes flicked once or twice over to Touka, probably wondering why Susumu couldn’t be rough with more decorum the way their cousin did – which, in turn, was mostly funny because Touka had arrived to the restaurant and very promptly hunkered down to sleep. Apparently she hadn’t slept due to some sort of patrol scare the night before that turned out to be a false alarm.
“But you know how kids are,” Susumu was saying. “This cute little crumb was dead set on the world being over if he couldn’t have his favorite sensei and who could say no to such an adorable little ball of sugar, hm? I didn’t whelp him. That makes it my duty to spoil him!”
“Quite,” was all Mito said in return, her spine a little straighter than normal. Her eyes drifted sideways to glance at her own husband and Tobirama wondered if she was reconsidering their decision to try for children of their own soon.
“Sometimes you can out-stubborn a kid but it’s not something I’ve ever counted on. Why, I used to have to drag this disaster here home by his ears when he didn’t want to stop training.” Susumu jerked a thumb over at Madara who squawked in offense to have his childhood secrets laid bare so easily.
While his husband leaned over to attempt a very loving murder Tobirama watched Mito place a hand on her belly with furrowed brows. He would have pitied her the horror of carrying whatever spawn Hashirama might father but he happened to know that she had been given a choice of which Senju heir she wanted to marry and she was the one who chose Hashirama, not the other way around. He was glad of her choice, of course, but he had no sympathy for someone who got herself in to her current mess. It helped that he probably wouldn’t have to babysit very often. The Senju usually provided wet nurses for that sort of thing.
“Don’t listen to anything she says,” Madara looked over to plead with him, hands still occupied with trying to shove his old teacher off her stool. “She’s a crazy old bat and her memory’s failing her!”
“Ha! You wish, little one! I remember every minute of your childhood – every little embarrassing detail! Who wants a story?”
“Oh I would!” Hashirama piped up.
“Me too!” Kagami chimed in. Their expressions were eerily similar in their eager attention.
Briefly considering and then quickly discarding the idea of mercy, Tobirama leaned forward to support his chin in one palm with a smile. “I should like a story as well. What sort of man would I be not to show an interest in my husband’s beginnings?”
“I didn’t begin anywhere!” Madara insisted frantically. “I was born an adult! No embarrassing stories! Everyone shut up!”
Predictably, Susumu ignored him. As soon as she regained her balance she stood up on her stool in order to clamp a hand over Madara's mouth and regaled them all with a story about the time he had become convinced that jutsus lay dormant inside their elements until they were called forth with the correct hand signs.
“He waited for hours by the river just staring at the water and waiting for – what was it? Oh! A dragon! He kept saying he was waiting for a dragon of all things to spring up out of the water. You’d think by twelve he would have given up on such fancies!”
“Sorry, a dragon?” Tobirama sat up again to lift an eyebrow at his husband. “Can I ask why specifically one of those?”
Madara screeched out a few muffled sentences before he managed to tear Susumu’s hand away from his mouth. “I’m not crazy, I swear. The week before we’d been in a skirmish with a company protecting the target we were contracted to kill and I know what I saw. One of them called up an actual dragon from the river nearby!”
“Hey Tobi, that sounds like you!” Hashirama chirped. Tobirama nodded.
“It does indeed. Do you remember where that skirmish happened?”
“Dunno. Somewhat east of the old Yamanaka territory I think. Why does it matter where?”
“And you were twelve?”
Madara frowned and demanded a belligerent, “So?”
“I believe that may have been me,” Tobirama admitted. “I would have been around ten when I finally perfected the Water Dragon Jutsu and I was enamored enough to use it at every opportunity. And if I’m remembering correctly then I did run an escort mission through that area that my client barely escaped from. It seems we met quite a bit earlier than we thought, dear husband.”
“That was…you?” Madara blinked at him and Susumu harrumphed from the end of the table.
“Oh fine. Why don’t you just go ahead and justify his childhood idiocies?” she grumbled.
Ignoring her and leaning a little farther away from her hand, Madara scooted a little closer to Tobirama with a wondering expression. “That’s incredible that we might have met so many years ago and not even known.”
“So romantic!” Hashirama crooned. He squawked when Tobirama kicked him under the table without looking.
“It sort of is,” Madara admitted, his ears pinking ever so slightly.
“Perhaps,” Tobirama allowed.
“Do you think we would have…gotten along then too?”
For a moment Tobirama narrowed his eyes thoughtfully, wondering at the pause in his husband’s sentence. Something told him that was not what the man intended to say. Then he shrugged it off and said, “Perhaps if we had enough sense to be honest with each other. I was a cautious child.”
“No you weren’t! You were already blowing things up in your lab when you were seven!” Hashirama looked as though the memory still horrified him but, worryingly, both Kagami and Susumu looked intrigued.
“If we could move the topic away from reminiscing about our childhoods and back to the original reason we all came out for tonight?” Dropping a hand on Kagami’s head, Tobirama smiled when the boy began to squirm with joy. “Have you given thanks to Susumu for helping you today?”
“Thanks baachan!”
“I told you not to call me baachan!”
Having successfully removed the focus from himself, more than happy to allow the table to focus on Kagami instead, Tobirama leaned a little deeper in to Madara's side and simply observed for a while. They certainly were an interesting bunch when they were all put together but there was something about the cacophony of so many different personalities that actually managed to weave together in an odd sort of harmony. For the first time in longer than he could remember Tobirama had no desire to escape a social environment that involved more than two or three people.
It was with great contentment that he sat and listened to Susumu recount a clearly exaggerated tale of how she had caused a distraction so Kagami could put the slip on everyone. The mite took up his own story afterwards and described with great pride the way he suppressed his chakra just like he’d been taught and hurried over to their favorite training ground where he put all the energy he could in to finally performing the Chameleon Jutsu correctly for the very first time.
“And Kaachan says I did it even better than she can! It was great, wasn’t it sensei?” He looked up at Tobirama with shining eyes, unaware of the clenching heart sensation he caused.
“Very impressive indeed,” Tobirama praised him and tried not to think about how good it was to still be allowed that title. “Trees are a particularly difficult environment for that jutsu with the way leaves and shadows are constantly moving but your disguise was seamless.”
“Cause I’m awesome!” Kagami declared, puffing out his chest.
Tobirama nodded solemnly. “And quite humble as well.”
“What does humble mean?”
“It means not getting a big head!” Susumu answered from her end of the table.
With a delicate clearing of her throat, Mito finally spoke up again to say, “The world would be a much better place if more people taught their children humility. Allow me to add my congratulations, young Kagami.”
She even managed to make her voice sound warm and Tobirama supposed he could understand a little more why his brother loved this woman so much. Not to say that Mito had ever been exactly cold to him but he’d never seen her as the nurturing type ready for the chaos of having a baby in the home. If she could find some value in his cute little student, though, there was hope for her yet. Only a blind idiot wouldn’t think his student was cute.
Impressed as he was to watch Mito strike up a conversation with Kagami, Hashirama amusing himself by prodding Susumu for more stories of a young clan heir, Tobirama found himself quite distracted when Madara leaned down to rest that great mane of hair against his shoulder.
“What a day,” his husband murmured. “And it’s barely even a couple hours passed noon. Can we really say we’re taking them out for dinner? I would think this is lunch.”
“A celebratory meal of undetermined nature,” Tobirama suggested, amused to earn himself a wrinkled nose.
“So many people all talking at once, we’re jumping between conversations like rabbits. It’s exhausting. I love all of them dearly but when can we go home?”
Before Tobirama had a chance to answer Hashirama let out a bark of laughter across the table that startled Touka back in to the land of the living, whereupon she violently pinched his side in retribution even as she leaned around him to politely ask Mito how long she had slept. Hashirama's screech attracted the attention of several other tables around theirs and all the warm fuzzy loving thoughts Tobirama had been thinking went out the window. Why did he love any part of this circus act? Only Mito knew how to properly act her age.
“That’s what you get for not using your indoor voice,” Touka declared, glaring balefully down at the plate of food in front of her, long gone cold.
“I was just laughing! Sometimes I can’t help how loud I laugh!”
“Maybe you should learn,” she grumbled.
“Ah come on, let him be loud,” Susumu called from her end. “He’s not hurting anyone!”
Touka’s expression was a mixture of sour exhaustion and undeniable curiosity. “He’s hurting my eardrums. And who are you? I must have tucked off before any of the introductions were made.”
“Name’s Susumu but you can call me anything but baachan! I was the poor sod tasked with molding this useless lump of dough in to a proper tough biscuit. He’s still got a few rough edges but all in all I think I did alright.” Grinning, Susumu stood up from her stool so she could lean forward enough to shake Touka’s hand.
“I think we’ll get along.”
“You say that now. What about when you find out I’m actually a raging psychopath?”
Touka only shrugged. “So is everyone else here. Except the kid, maybe.”
Unsurprisingly, Susumu roared with laughter. “Little one, why didn’t you introduce me to your in-laws sooner? I like them all!”
“Yeah. That’s exactly why,” Madara grumbled. He looked utterly terrified to see his sensei and his husband’s cousin fall in to conversation as though they’d known each other for years rather than a few minutes, rough personalities playing off each other with all the beauty of a natural disaster one cannot help but stare at.
Although he did sort of agree that an alliance between those two women in particular could mean terrible things for the rest of them Tobirama decided after a few moments of thought that he would rather they get along than feud. The only thing worse than Touka and Susumu cooperating would be if they took exception to each other. With that in mind he let the table shield his actions and reached over to weave his fingers in to Madara's, squeezing lightly. His husband paused in the middle of grumbling to give him a startlingly soft look which made Tobirama grateful everyone else was too occupied to look at them at the moment.
Eventually, as much fun as it was to watch Mito try to keep up with Kagami’s chatter or listen to Touka and Susumu planning terrifying surprise drills for the security squads, there was only so long a large group like theirs could stay in a restaurant before the staff began sending them blatant signals that their table was needed for other patrons. Strangely even Tobirama found himself a little reluctant to end the gathering but he did decline when Hashirama and Mito kindly invited everyone back to their place for tea and more conversation. He was only a little surprised that Susumu took the offer.
It would have taken much longer to make their goodbyes if he were given to half of the emotional outpouring his brother was but Tobirama managed to send off every one of the guests he had called together for their little celebration and be on his way in a little less than ten minutes. The only person who came away with him and his husband was Kagami, obviously travelling in the same direction as they all made their way back to the Uchiha compound. Susumu looked almost on the verge of adopting herself in to the Senju clan just to terrorize them all.
They had only travelled a few streets away when his student stiffened between one step and the next, looking up at Tobirama with a guilty face as though expecting to be told off for something.
“I didn’t say thank you,” he mourned. “Kaachan told me I was supposed to say thank you for the meal.”
“You could say it now,” Tobirama pointed out, glad of his usual blank face for hiding a smile.
“Oh! Okay! Thank you sensei, I had fun! I like your big brother!”
Ignoring the way Madara started snickering next to him, Tobirama sighed. “Yes, I’m not surprised that you do.”
“He’s funny! I wish I had a big brother too!”
Tobirama would have answered – probably with something that made Hashirama the butt of a joke – were he not distracted just then by a familiar face trudging out of a rather shabby looking establishment. Izuna at least had the good grace to look ashamed for a few moments to be caught coming out of a bar in the middle of the afternoon. The moment passed quickly when it registered exactly who had caught him and his face soured immediately as he locked eyes with the brother-in-law he so clearly had never wanted.
More painful than Kagami’s confused head tilt was Madara's frosty silence. Tobirama wondered when the last time was that the two brothers had actually spent any quality time together during which his name had not come up at all. Looking at the way they carefully kept their distance now he wondered if maybe it was time he himself put in a little effort to making this easier for his husband as he had once promised to do. When it came down to brass tacks simply vowing not to fight wasn’t nearly the same thing as actually making an attempt to get along. Which, he would be the first to point out, might be an impossibility when it came to the two of them but that shouldn’t stop him from at least trying. For Madara's sake if nothing else.
Feeling rather like he was asking to have his own words thrown back in his face, Tobirama waited until Izuna’s glare came back in his direction before speaking.
“We were just heading home,” he stated with no inflection. “I’m sure Madara would enjoy having his brother over for a nightcap. Would you care to walk with us?” It was hard to tell who was staring at him with more incredulity, Madara or Izuna, but he wondered if they knew they made the same face while doing it.
“You don’t owe me any favors,” Izuna blustered eventually.
“I don’t owe you anything,” Tobirama agreed.
“And I don’t need handouts!”
Trying not to sigh tiredly, Tobirama only shook his head. “The offer was no more than it sounded. If you wish to send time with your brother I can promise that I will stay in the office at home until you leave to give you some space. My presence has been a wedge between the two of you for long enough, wouldn’t you say?”
While the child between them looked back and forth with a bewildered expression, clearly wondering what was going on between all the adults but knowing enough not to ask, Izuna deliberated with an expression of great difficulty. Madara wasn’t exactly helping. Instead of offering any sort of opinion or even agreeing that he would indeed like to spend some time with his brother again he was standing completely still with his arms folded, body language entirely closed off. When Izuna finally answered it felt as though every word cost him.
“I meant what I said. I don’t want any handouts from you. So just carry on with your cute little evening out or whatever it is you were up to.”
He lifted his chin with the same excess of pride and stubbornness that only kept digging him deeper in to his own hole but Tobirama only shrugged, recognizing that for once he was not being offered any bait to rise to and mentally applauding the other man’s restraint. Madara waited to see if his brother would say anything else and when the silence continued he seemed just about to give up hope when Izuna finally spoke up again.
“Certainly looks like you’re having a good time.” Having never heard that tone from him before Tobirama couldn’t properly decipher what that was supposed to mean but he supposed it wasn’t all bad when the snippy way Madara responded seemed more defensive than truly angered.
“We are happy. So good of you to notice.”
“Right. Then go on and…keep being happy or whatever.”
“Hmph. We will.” Madara sniffed and lifted his nose in to the air.
Deciding that leaving was the safest option, Tobirama cleared his throat to head off anything else and reached out to corral his student with one hand, pulling on Madara's wrist with the other.
“Right, come along Kagami. We promised your mother to see you home safely.” He kept one eye on Izuna as they trotted on by, more to satisfy his own curiosity as to whether the man would stumble back in to the bar to drown his miseries, but was surprised instead to find an almost wistful expression on Izuna’s face watching them all walk away. Almost as if he were immediately regretting his quick rejection.
More than anything else it was odd that he didn’t call them back to prolong the fight. Up until now even if they encountered each other at the office he had yet to pass on any opportunity to start shit. Surely by this point Tajima must have noticed but it would be laughable to think he would step in front of anything that might help him wage his own personal war against anyone who was born to the Senju head family.
“Sensei?” Kagami called up to him as soon as they were out of sight around a corner. “Why did Izuna-sama look like he needed to take a really big poop?” Madara choked on air while Tobirama bit the inside of his cheek until he could reply.
“That isn’t a very good description. Use your observational skills, Kagami, what was he feeling?”
“Uh…well he looked…sad I think. Kaachan makes that face sometimes when I ask her if we can get something from the market and she wants to say yes but she says no instead because we already spent our money on grown up stuff. Is that better?”
“Mn. Better, yes. Izuna is in much the same situation as your mother but it’s a little different. Imagine if rather than groceries your mother had spent all her money on a brand new dress she didn’t really need and then when you asked if you could buy something she wanted to give it to you but couldn’t, knowing it was her own frivolity that stopped her.”
While his student mulled this over Tobirama noted Madara looking behind them with a contemplative expression.
“So…Izuna-sama wanted to say yes and come with us but he said no because…um…” His tiny little nose wrinkled adorably as he tried to wriggle his mind through the complicated mess of adult personal problems.
“He started a fight,” Tobirama supplied flatly. “I offered to end the fight but I suppose he isn’t ready to admit his part in it. Does that answer your question?”
Kagami nodded. “Yes sensei! I think Izuna-sama is being silly!”
“So do I,” Madara grumbled.
Instead of offering his own opinion one way or another, Tobirama turned the conversation to other things. At this point his own personal grievances against Izuna were less important than the pain they were causing his husband and Madara's pain had become his own as soon as he started developing feelings for the man. He had extended an olive branch as blatantly as he could; it was up to Izuna now whether or not he chose to take it.
For the rest of their walk home Tobirama kept his student talking and drew no attention to Madara's continued silence. Perhaps it was not him that needed to reach out to heal the wound between two brothers. He did still feel some amount of guilt for being the cause of their rift even as he understood that he truly had no control over the issue Izuna had originally taken exception to. In his culture he had been raised to expect an arranged marriage. Dealing with the clash between his own upbringing and Madara's should have been between them; Izuna really had no right to hate him as badly as he did even before Madara had a change of heart on the subject.
On the upside it looked like the fool was finally starting to explore the option of having his own change of heart and Tobirama could only say he was relieved. Maybe not looking forward to it, he wasn’t sure either of them were capable of being friends with the other in any universe, but it would be a load off his mind not to worry about fighting a war against his husband’s family on two different fronts.
They said goodnight to Kagami at the fork in the road where their paths diverged, trusting him to make it back home by himself. When they entered their own abode Madara paused with his hands on his hips and looked around as though unable to decide what to do with himself.
“It’s only the middle of the afternoon,” he mumbled. Tobirama hummed in agreement, considered his options, and then gave the other man a solid push. As he went down Madara let out a very undignified, “Ack!”
“Shove up and make space,” Tobirama demanded.
“What the hell? If you wanted to get by you just had to ask!”
Huffing quietly, he pushed them both in to one corner of the sofa and reached for one of the books nearby that he was halfway through reading. “I didn’t want by.”
“Oh.”
It took several minutes but eventually all the tension flowed out of Madara's body when he finally got the hint. Tobirama refused to move so much as an inch while the other man shuffled around pulling a blanket of the back of the couch and snapping it out so he could drape them both in soft cotton. After sitting in a crowded restaurant with five other people plus themselves it was a nice change to sit together and read quietly for a time. Tobirama liked to imagine he could feel the stress of the outside world slipping away in moment’s like this, Madara's pleasant warmth beside him, one arm doing its best to circle his waist stealthily without drawing attention.
“It was interesting seeing our families interacting for the first time,” he murmured eventually.
“Our-? Hm. Yeah I guess…they are. Interesting is certainly a word for it.” Madara furrowed his brows until Tobirama turned just enough to kiss him lightly at the corner of those full lips he so loved to taste.
“Thank you, anata.”
He turned back to his book and pretended to read, listening to Madara harrumph and clear his throat and mumble his way through a few disconnected sentences. In the midst of all the drama that had plagued them in so many different ways lately, it was nice to have at least one quiet evening of peace together.
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crowsent · 4 years
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Reaper At The Gates
Full disclosure, this book has 458 pages and I kinda cried on page 448 so this may or may not make sense because I am FUCKED UP right now. Page 448 has no goddamn diddly fucking RIGHT to be that emotional and Page 449 is fucking CRUEL. The page header. The fucking PAGE HEADER telling me which goddamn POV the chapter is in made my heart SAD and that shit should be illegal. Chapter LVIII had no fucking RIGHT and I’m suing for emotional trauma.
I am crying in the goddamn club right now. I am inundating this club with my tears and bringing about the second great flood because THIS FUCKING BOOK.
If you’ve been with me for ANY amount of time, you already know about this book because I started this book in the goddamn SUMMER of 2K19 and I only just finished today, on the day of our lord, February 10th 20 FUCKING 20. Took me a goddamn year to read this book and honestly?
Honestly I should have fucking finished this book earlier because HOLY SHIT.
The book is a rollercoaster that I got shoved on without a seatbelt or something to hold onto, then subsequently yeeted into a sea of emotions that hit me on the head like a fucking WARHAMMER. The author, Sabaa Tahir, is a goddamn sorceress. Her words are twists and turns and it is all I can do to hold on.
With every fibre of my being, from the pull of my muscles to the creaking of my very bones, I wish so so desperately to have copies of the first two books so I can experience them again. So I can start the journey all over again. So that when I read this FUCKING BOOK, everything is fresh on my mind.
It’s the third book in the Ember In The Ashes series and when I say that I am shooketh. This book swung for my goddamn kneecaps and went for my jugular.
It is painful.
Let me say this right fucking now that it is PAINFUL. The imagery is beautiful and brutal. The sentences are skillfully crafted knives that are thrown at me with precision. It is a thunderstorm that has long since been spotted but has yet to strike. Anticipation builds and builds and builds until you feel like you’re going to crack under the pressure. And then the storm comes. And you break.
This book is fucking painful. Characters I’ve loved, characters I saw laughing, crying, howling with hurt, characters that I’ve grown attached to, are subjected to so many things that I can’t help but feel for them. They are clay, Tahir is the sculptor, and I am the poor fool watching them get broken down to be molded again, hoping desperately that this time, this time, they’ll be fine.
It’s fucking painful.
And beautiful.
Because this book is a goddamn thunderstorm, and it finally struck. It set fires that burned down trees and houses, but lit up a dark night. These characters grow so much and I grow with them. My mind is constantly thinking with every page I turned, trying to find some comfort when the book offered me pain, trying to find the wounds when I am offered mercy.
The plot is strong. The characters are stronger. All three of the main leads are thoughtfully crafted. You can see into their minds when they speak. You can feel every beat of their heart when they act. You can hear their goddamn fucking souls crying out with every atrocity they face and witness and commit. And the villain? I pity him. I pity him and hate him and love him. The villain is not a force of pure evil. The villain is broken. And some part of me wants him to win. The side characters are no slouch either. That small snippet of Alistar made my breath hitch and my heart harden. And Alistar is one of the lesser side characters, not as prominent as Harper or Dex, but he was there and I was not okay. And Keris. Just. Keris.
And the best part is that ALL of the characters change. They grow, for better or worse.
I don’t think it’s for everyone because of its kind of sensitive content. War. Slavery. The brutality of mankind on full display. Pain and pain and pain with nothing to show for it. Failure and sadness and betrayal. Hurt that runs so deep it colours the soul. But if you can handle that kind of content, read it.
You kind of have to read the first two books, but the third one is worth it. The first two books are good, but this one is visceral. I felt empty when I finished, and I felt different when I finished. Not in any kind of profound way, mind you. This book didn’t change my life or anything, but it did change me.
It made me think of things a little bit too deep for my usual shitposting fuckall veneer. It made me think of life and death, of duty and sacrifice, of pain and love and of people. Not everyone is black and white. Even the darkest of souls, the most monstrous of monsters, the most ruthless, heartless, cruel, vicious beasts have some good in them. They can love and they can mourn. They can fight to the death for what they believe in. And even the kindest people, the ones with bright smiles and gentle hands, the ones who are sunlight on a dark day, can be capable of wickedness.
I don’t think about the duality of man that often. By that I mean never. On a subconscious, hidden part of me, I know that mankind is never black and white. Everyone is grey. Someone who hated you so deeply can love someone so much it aches. Someone you would bring the stars down for could be a hideous sinful creature. And this book brought that to the surface. It made me LOOK.
The series was always a little dark, but I underestimated how deep this cesspool of emotions ran. The line “Skies save me from the men in my life and all the things they think they know” did not, in any way, reveal just how much of a painful, beautiful, vicious thing this book was.
The prophecies made me wrack my head for an answer. And just when I think I have it in my grasp, something else gets revealed. “When the Butcher bows to the deepest love of all.” A love for kinsmen, for the Butcher’s people, for the Butcher’s family. And the Ghost? “The Ghost will fall, her flesh will wither.” When the meaning, the TRUE meaning of that line got revealed, I lost my shit. This book yall. This fucking book.
My only major gripe about it is how much it used the word “bleeding” as a swear word. Y’all call Keris “piece of shit human being” Veturia the Bitch of Blackcliff but y’all won’t let Laia of Serra say the word fuck? Okay. But we ain’t talking about that.
Fourth book is coming and boy fucking howdy I was not prepared for how much I want it. I want it so much I can’t put it into words. What I can put into words, somewhat, is how much I feel for THAT scene. You know. THAT scene. Spoilers for the three things that destroyed me the most emotionally below
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What we are talking about, is Helene Aquilla. She deserved none of the shit that happened to her. My beautiful, beautiful daughter deserved none of the pain, none of the suffering, none of the tears and the worry and the strife she was given. My daughter deserves to be HAPPY goddammit. And what? First you subject her to emotional trauma by having Marcus torture her sister over and over. You poison Livvy and subject Helene to a terror so visceral and vicious that she blames herself for putting Livvy in danger even though it wasn’t her fault? You tease the Harper thing but then you take it away from her. Just like you take everything away from her.
How fucking dareth????? Helene deserves more than that??? Like the Harper/Helene ship has set sail and docked in the empty harbour of my heart. Their interactions are so goddamn GOOD and then you take everything away just like that. They kiss near the end of the book and all of a sudden, it’s gone. It’s nothing.
That moment in Navium? Where Helene was almost killed but saved at the last and final moment? The scene where Harper urges Helene to trust him, to let him carry some of her burdens, to allow Harper to see part of her. “Needing protection is not a weakness. Refusing to trust your allies is.” That quote ripped me the fuck apart. And I think it was this moment that the Helene/Harper ship truly and irrevocably burrowed within me. I will not let this go. I will, and I do not say this lightly, go down with this fucking ship. Even if it burns and drops into the bottom of the ocean as nothing but wasted wood, I will go down with this fucking ship because BRUH.
And Laia of Serra? First you have her captured. Then you have her see her people beaten over and over again. Then, and fucking THEN you have her discover her mother’s identity and the violence her mother has committed right before her meeting with Cook? You fucking do that shit?????? HELLO?????
That reveal destroyed me. Cook has been with us since the first book. She was something familiar. Amidst all the chaos and suffering, cook was the one single constant in the book. No matter how much the scene changed, or how the plot shifted, Cook was always there. Always present. And we learn that she is Laia’s mother. And THEN she fucking dies. And Laia has to live the rest of her life knowing that her mother had been so close to her, and she never noticed. Knowing that her mother died to protect her. Like nani the fucko was up with that??????
But you know what really hurts about Cook? What really hammers the rusty nail of pain inside my long-dead heart?
It’s the stutter.
For some goddamn fucking reason, when Cook said “You’re just like your f-f-f-fath-” I FELT that. Some part of me recoiled. I wanted to put the book down. Because while I knew that she killed her daughter and husband, I never had to actually KNOW that she killed her daughter and husband. That scene was impersonal. That scene was much like how Mirra of Serra snapped the necks of the people she loved. Quick. Painless. I did not know that she killed her daughter and husband because when that scene happened, Mirra of Serra was just putting them to sleep. But then she stuttered. “L-L-L-L-Lis.” “F-fath-fath” And she can’t say it. Because their deaths haunt them.
Because she killed them.
That was the moment it sank in for me. She is not Mirra of Serra. She is Cook. Because Mirra of Serra died with Lis. Because Mirra of Serra died with her husband. Because Mirra of Serra died long ago and this was the moment I realised it. “Curse this world for what it does to the mothers, for what it does to the daughters,” Helene said. I fucking agree. Out of everyone in the cast, the world took the most from Cook. I will never get over that.
But you know the one thing that really destroyed me? The one thing that made me realise that this book IS merciless and this book WILL shoot for a killing blow?
LVIII
The penultimate chapter.
The bitch of a chapter that took what’s left of my heart, raw and bleeding from the miraculous escape and alliance in the previous chapter, and just shattered it. It squeezed my raw, vulnerable, bleeding heart until it was nothing but dust.
Look at the chapter title.
LVIII: The Soul Catcher
Not Elias. The Soul Catcher.
He’s not Elias anymore.
Elias is gone.
He’s just the Soul Catcher now.
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