#are ACTIVELY silenced and alienated blocked and hated on here | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thinking1bee · 3 years

Text

When It Reigns Part 9

Requested by Anonymous

Pairings: Kara Danvers x Reader

Tags: Angst, Kryptonian!Reader, Parent!Reader, Parent!Kara, Estranged Parent, Graphic Depictions of Injuries, Blood, Humor, Bad Dreams, Memory Loss

Everything Taglist: @sammy90682 @nobody13 @owloftheshadows @captain-josslett @camslightstories @worldovart @finleyfray @acertainredhead @sammm9068 @reginassecretlover

“Record number 8-A237,” Lena began after she started the recording device. “My hypothesis was supported, with the subject showing many signs of becoming the alter ego. They are not aware of doing so. The subject has described the experience as a blackout, with no memory after they regain consciousness and limited memory before it happens. All events coincide with each other, between the blackouts and the attacks on the city, which provides some evidence that when the subject does lose consciousness, they become the rogue Kryptonian. As of now, I don’t know what the trigger is for transformation, though anger seems to be one of them. Subject has been kept in a medically induced coma but to proceed with further testing, I will need them awake. I’ll begin the waking process now.”

Lena ended the recording and fiddled with the IV that was inserted into you. She watched as you slowly gained consciousness, your face scrunching as you fought the fatigue that was weighing you down. When Lena saw that you were coming around, she stepped away from your side and exited the testing area, touching a switch on her tablet to activate the defense systems.

“Y/n, can you hear me?”

You groaned as you blinked your eyes open, and then you released a heavy sigh, sitting up and rubbing your face.

“Hey, Lena,” you croaked, your mouth incredibly dry. “What’s going on?”

She was apprehensive as she looked at you, and you looked at her in confusion. You noticed that she moved you away from the other hospital bed and put you into a room that was built like a bomb shelter. You also noticed that Lena was standing considerably far away. Slowly you got to your feet and approached her.

“Lena, why are you over-”

You yelped when you ran face first into something. It cut you off mid sentence and you were left standing there as you rubbed your nose.

“What…?”

You reached out and touch an invisible wall, a forcefield of some sort, and when you looked at Lena again, you stared at her with baffled shock.

“What are you doing?” you demanded. Lena squared her shoulders and looked you dead in the eyes.

“I’ve figured out what happens to you when you black out.”

You were getting pissed. Her use of imprisonment on you made you incensed and you had to force yourself to take a few deep breaths. You would, at the very least, hear her out.

“What happens?”

“You become Reign.”

There was a moment of tense silence when you stared at her, and she stared right back at you. When Lena didn’t say anything, you frowned and gave her a dirty look.

“That’s not funny,” you said lowly.

“Think about it, Y/n. Every time you disappeared, she appeared and every time she disappeared, you appeared. It’s a truth that I need you to know.”

“Lena, this isn’t funny,” you said again, your voice getting louder. “I came to you for help and accusing me of being that homicidal alien maniac is the opposite of what I need.”

Lena sighed and scratched her eyebrow.

“I was there for you when Edge accused you of poisoning kids. Be there for me!”

Lena hoped that it wouldn’t come to this, where she would have to force you to see yourself in the mirror, but she was all out of options. If she wanted you to accept the truth quickly, then you would have to see it for yourself. There wasn’t another option, or at least one that wouldn’t take up so much time.

“Please forgive me, Y/n.” You just stared at her as she straightened her shoulders. Then it was like someone flipped a switch. You watched her as she turned cold, and she regarded you with a sneer.

“I’m surprised that you don’t see it, Y/n,” she spat at you. “It’s glaring at you, flashing at you like a neon sign and you refuse to accept the truth.”

“Because it isn’t real!” you countered.

“God, how naïve! You are a threat, Y/n! To all of National City, you are a menace. Don’t you realized what you’ve done? The people you’ve killed?”

You squeezed your eyes closed as you blocked out her words. No! She was wrong! Lena was lying to you. Why would she say such horrible things? Why was she treating you this way?

“You asked me for my help and here it is. You’ve hurt people, Y/n. You’ve killed innocent people! You even put Supergirl in a coma!”

The walls were closing in on you, suffocating you with a violent mixture of terror and anger. Lena’s words were hurting you. They were scaring you and they cut so deep. You would never hurt anyone, let alone kill them. How could she think that you were capable of that?

“I never should have turned to you for help!” you screamed at her. “I should have known better than to trust a Luthor!”

“People will trust in me before they trust in you,” she retorted calmly. “At least I’ve never killed anyone and enjoyed doing so. I’ve never harmed people close to me! I’m. Not. A. Monster!”

Her last few words were what did it. The anger, hate, and fear that was growing inside of you, kept swelling and swelling until it finally burst. You screamed in anguish, the cry loud as it echoed off the walls. You hated her! You hated Lena for what she was doing to you! You hated yourself for not knowing the truth! And you hated the possibility that what she was saying might be true! You hated everything! All you could do was scream and scream as your turbulent emotions consumed you. They blocked out the light. They blocked out your rational thinking, and soon there was no room to think about anything anymore.

***

Lena watched with sorrow as Reign took you over. You screamed and screamed as you shot out your heat vision erratically. Your fingers were curled into claws as you struck everything in sight. Her heart ached for you, and she hated that she put you through this, but you needed to see this with your own eyes. She knew that it wouldn’t be enough to just say that you were Reign. You had to witness it for yourself.

Lena clenched her jaw as she watched you destroy the room in a fit of rage. You crashed against the barrier as you tossed things around with ease, your cries and tears calling freely from your body.

“Video recording A-9356,” Lena whispered as she hit the record button.

***

“Y/n…?”

The voice was so far away. It was like a ghost against your eardrums, and you weren’t sure whether or not you’d actually heard it.

“Y/n?”

That one was much louder, and your eyelids snapped open immediately. You were on the ground with debris and crushed remains of the room surrounding you precariously. It was like a bomb went off in the room. Bleary eyed and confused, you sat up and wiped the drying tears on your cheeks.

“What happened?” you groaned. Lena was still there, standing with the tablet in her hands and with a pained expression on her face.

“I need to show you something.”

She touched a prompt and then a video flickered to life on the one computer monitor that you didn’t destroy. You watched a video of yourself doing things that shouldn’t be possible. Your mouth hung open in shock as you destroyed equipment with one punch or when your eyes glowed red with power. This was you, and you were raging. Anger and fury vibrated off of you and every time you roared on screen, shudders ripped from your body in spasms.

“Turn it off,” you whispered but Lena kept playing it.

You watched as heat vision shot from your eyes. You watched as you ripped whole machines apart….

You realized that you were Reign.

Lena had told you the truth. You were a monster. You were a killer, and as the video kept playing, you also realized that you were about to be sick.

“Please, Lena. Turn it off!” you begged as more tears came to your eyes. Lena switched the video off immediately and removed the barrier from your room. She was by your side, kneeling beside you as you broke down. “Oh god. All those people! I’ve killed people. I’ve…”

Your eyes grew wide as your hands started to shake. “I put Kara in a coma.”

You looked at Lena who could only stare back sadly.

“I did that. That was me! I put the love of my life in a coma! I almost killed her!”

“No, no, no!” Lena said vehemently as she interjected your downward spiral. “You are not Reign! Don’t punish yourself for things that she did.”

“Then how do you want to explain what’s been happening to me?!”

Lena couldn’t answer. How could she explain? She held you close as she stroked your cheek.

“There may not be an explanation just yet, but you came to me to fix it, okay? Let me fix it.”

Part 10

#supergirl fanfic #kara danvers x reader #reader insert #angst #injuries #blood #humor #bad dreams #memory loss #estranged parent #parent!kara #parent!reader

39 notes · View notes

ninakaina · 3 years

Text

no nuance december i think one of the reasons shipping daniil and artemy is such a monolith in the pathologic fanbase is that a lot of people around here are either actively or passively trying to silence and alienate people, especially poc, who are uncomfortable with and criticize the problems inherent to that ship. like, i did not expect my answer about how people need to think more critically about it to become my most controversial post, but without gaining many notes at all it’s fundamentally changed my relationship with the fandom on here.

i don’t post serious anon hate i get or talk about it at the time as a rule against giving idiots any attention but i literally got a couple death threats and racist messages from that post going around and i’ve found over the past couple days a fair number of blogs that rb daniil/artemy that have blocked me without any history between us, as well as losing about 10% of my followers, not to mention the very interesting lack of notes on that post compared to my other hot takes that are easier for some of y’all to agree with and don’t tell you to examine how you personally interact with content you like. not to mention the flood of support that daniil/artemy content (especially writing) gets, compared to significantly less reach for non shipping content and content featuring women (although this isnt as bad as most other fandoms i think). on the flip side, i’ve heard from several people lately who tell me they love pathologic but they don’t engage with it online or stay on the fringes because of how pervasive totally uncritical daniil/artemy content is and how hard it can be to get any engagement when you don’t participate in that.

what does this mean for you, a daniil/artemy shipper? the least you can do is spend a few minutes thinking about the racial dynamic of their relationship and acknowledge it in your brain. i would recommend tagging it when you post or reblog it, because people who arent comfortable with it are epic and your life would be enriched if they followed you. i personally have “burakhovsky” blacklisted and i cherish my mutuals who tag it. i also recommend going out of your way to support people who make content that is non ship or even just not that ship (even if it’s not my content you’re supporting lol) to encourage them to keep making stuff they like. for daniil enjoyers, i’ve been working through crostiina’s “tempora mutantur et nos mutamur in illis” on ao3, which is SO COOL so far even though i’m not actively a daniil/peter fan. idk dude just support valid criticisms of things you like and make space for people who are negatively affected by the serious problems with it.

#idk if i should tag this like #shipping discourse or something #pathologic #daniel davinky #burakhovsky #very ok to rb #it feels very silly to be talking seriously about trends in slash fanfiction in 2020 but this stuff bothers me #long i guess #davinky up there is my anti burakhovsky tag if youre looking for context

111 notes · View notes

nightswithkookmin · 3 years

Text

GOING ON A HIATUS

Thanks to everyone who's taken the time out to read my posts and has enjoyed it so far. It's really been fun and entertaining exchanging thoughts and having these much deeper ship discussions.

I thought this issue was gonna go away but I woke up this morning to more people messaging me about finding my last video analysis on several other platforms without appropriate credit.

But that's not disturbing. The disturbing part is the people sliding into people's DM'S on other platforms to get them to take down my video because they don't want people sharing my content on other platforms as they believe it would only make my blog popular.

For those worried about this whole credit business, thanks for showing this much concern for me? I really appreciate the love and concern if it's from a genuine place of concern. Thank you...

I think some of you already know this by now or might have figured it out, I am a law student, I am very much well aware what is and what isn't within my rights? Lol

I honestly didn't see this whole credit thingy as a big deal. It's not. Not to me. Lol. I repost people's photos without credit too all the time. Often, it's because I don't know who to credit and most time my lazy ass just forgets to. Lol. I think it's normal? It's inconsequential I mean.

The videos I use are usually often water marked by the appropriate owners so I don't go through the hustle of figuring this whole credit business out. If I should decide to come back here again I will check that habit of mine?

While this whole credit business is not a big deal to me, malicious slander and defamation to my character is and I don't take it lightly.

It has been brought to my attention that some Jikookers from Tumblr have since been sliding into people's DM's on other platforms asking them to take down my video and or remove the credit they give to my post.

They are telling people I am problematic, calling me the Taekook Lives of the Jikook community. That I have been spreading lies about Jikook, that the Jikook Tumblr community hates me or something like that and to further caricaturize me and make me appear more evil in order to get people to turn on me and hate me, they make up the most ridiculous lies about me claiming that I believe a notorious serial killer is innocent.

Now I have since deleted my YT account because I don't want my colleagues to find out I am into shipping too lol- shipping is a guilty pleasure of mine and I know how this fandom works unfortunately. I've been a silent part of it since 2014. I mean it's started already. The Doxing and shit.

The original post under which these replies are from couldn't save sadly as my account has been deleted but you can see from my notifications the general feel of what my interests outside shipping looks like.

I am interested in a myriad of topics, from literature, Aliens, writing, Harry Potter, history, activism, advocacy, philosophy, law, politics, NASA, and mystery and murder among other things.

My quora is mostly filled with notifications from my Book community and True crime community and often I do share my thoughts and answer questions with regards to the psychology of murderers, legal evidence, notorious villains in literature- well I guess now you know the kind of lawyer I want to be if and when I'm able to complete law school.

But what has my interest in these topics got to do with Jikook and shipping please?? How does this prove I hate Jikook and spread lies about them?

This Kookie Min Monsta person slipped into someone's DMS and asked the person who had put up my video analysis to take it down or discredit me because to her I am problematic. She is not the only one.

You want so bad to paint me black- no pun intended just to win an argument? You claim I am the evil malicious person here but I am not the one sliding into people's dms trying to take credit away from people for their hardwork, spreading hate and negative energy, making things up to manipulate people's perception of others and get them to hate and turn on them- and all because of A SHIP? Damn. This is pathetic.

Who died and made you the gatekeeper of the jikook shipping community? Honestly antics like these don't work on me try again.

I made a video commentary on my Booktube YT account- yes I am part of the book YouTube community as well sue me or better still slip into their inboxes and tell them I voted for Trump therefore I hate chipmunks.

The commentary I made on YT months ago was when I was in the highs of finding a new passion and it was on Ann Rule's book, The Stranger Besides Me- a true crime novel on Ted Bundy which I found so poorly written that at the end of the book it left with me wondering whether or not Ted Bundy was guilty at all!

The Author's writing style which deviates from most writing styles of True Crime novels I have read gave me trust issues as I stated in the video. It felt more as if she was writing a made up fictional novel than an actual True Crime novel but because she knew Ted Bundy in person she made it seem as if we just had to believe her account.

Then there was this whole thing about the police not being able to match the DNA samples taken from his rape victims, to his own Semen because his Semen was DNAless- in lay man's terms. I'll spare you the technicalities involved.

As I stated in that video, I do believe Ted Bundy was guilty but I do not have much faith in the Judicial system, or criminal procedures or even the Author of that book- a sentiment most people within the true crime community share as well. We just had differing views on whether the writer's style took away from the narrative and waters down on the extent of Bundy's guilt.

We had a Similar conversation about Chris Watt. If the community I was engaging in didn't have a problem with my commentary why do you? Please don't meddle in things you know nothing about. It's embarrassing.

The conversation about whether or not Ted Bundy is innocent is moot but a philosophical one. It has nothing to do with Ted Bundy's guilt but more so the criminal procedures involved in his case and the different accounts that exists surrounding his case.

He was electrocuted, he confessed to his crimes no damn person with brains would think or assume he is innocent and I never said anything of that nature drew any conclusions to that effect.

Besides, I moved on from Ted Bundy a long time ago. Now I am into the Serial Killer who writes death poems and signs it off with drawings of the size of his dick at his crime scenes- mind your own business please or don't and let's have an intellectual discourse about him? Lmho.

I am also into cat memes if you care to know and have a whole IG dedicated to cat memes. I believe human beings are the most dumbest species in all the galaxies and when the Aliens arrive I am snitching.

When my mind is at rest, I often wonder if Aliens have masculinity complex and if they do whether or not their masculinity is contingent on the size of their dicks or whether they have to engage in a battle to the death with an alien grizzly bear to determine who is the man.

I love BTS memes too- a little too much and often end up debating over the internet with random people over whether BTS memes are funnier than cat memes- I'm weird, true. But how does all of that make me a bad person?

It's crazy how these people can go on these other platforms to ask people to take down the credits to my posts as well as my posts itself but can't ask people who run to these other platforms with misinterpretations of my work to take those down.

Instead they come on here to call me out for people's interpretations of my work?? It doesn't work that way. You are the author of your own opinion and interpretation of other people's work. You don't call out the original author for someone's opinion of their work. If that were so I would be emailing Stephanie Meyer for Anna Todd and her After series. Get some education.

I have since blocked this person and others whose Tumblr I have been able to find thanks to all those that's helped me finding them on here.

My gf also tried reaching out to the persons who shared my post after we realised this was becoming an issue and had asked them to credit her or my blog- but honestly I don't care about that yet she won't give it a rest. Lol. My ride or die this one. Sigh.

However, we realized soon that this is not about 'stealing' credit- can't call someone out for not giving credit when I suck at that myself. Lol.

This is about people's malicious intentions and their attempts to silence me and take away my right to freedom of expression however way that they can. This is wrong and evil.

I honestly don't care for all these ship politics these people are engaged in. I've had enough intelligent conversations to know the distinction between arguments that flows from bruised egos and actual conversations around a subject matter.

This whole I am right, she is wrong politics... y'all get that the point of having an opinion is not to be right, right? We all cant have the same perspective and you can't call someone a liar for holding views that is different from yours. That is a bizarre mentality to have.

As I stated in my post, that content I made was a rebuttal to the Taekook theories running around on the internet alleging JK glared at Tae when he pulled on his shoulder because he was jealous Tae and Jin were having fun behind him. He wasn't. He was worried Tae was gonna expose him and JM holding hands behind Suga.

If you don't think they were holding hands then Taekookers were right and his reaction was because he was Jealous of Taejin I guess...

But thats your truth. That's not my truth. I don't believe Taekook is real. JK isn't jealous of Taejin he is not Twelve- but then again he was sneaking around behind Suga holding his boyfriend's hands so I guess he is twelve? Lol. Jikook!

Do you.

But please stop the evil malicious attacks and seek immediate help. There is such a thing as right and wrong and this is just plain wrong. Your Karma and chakra are in the negative nodes and you need to fix it. It is not funny anymore.

Thank you to everyone who has shown genuine concerns for me in the past few days and thank you so much for trying to stand up for me. There are good people on here and I have met and interacted with a lot of them and thank you so much for such a wonderful experience and insightful discussions.

I don't hate people because of our differences in thoughts, beliefs, opinions. There's always room for dissenting opinions in every sphere. At the very least, we can agree to disagree and shake on it. But You can't make up shit about people just to prove your opinion is right and their opinions and views which differ from yours are 'wrong.

I am not a victim though, and they are not bullies, psst. They are just vile pathetic human beings exposing the greens of their insides. What you do says more about who you are as a person and human being. And this is who they are.

Just be a nice decent human being. That's what this world needs. Fix whatever is broken inside of you and free your mind and spirit. Hate is never the answer.

I'm going to be away for a while because I have studies, work and other interests I want to pursue at the moment- it's just my AADD flaring up so if you see me henceforth raving about Nana at least you'd know why. Lol. She's wrecking my Jimin bias. Lmho.

Spread positivity, do the right thing, stand up for a good cause and keep supporting Jikook. Jikook is real.

Until we meet again.

Signed,

GOLDY

50 notes · View notes

mushi-shield · 3 years

Text

reason why I really love Tom McDonald music.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I6FmwBPDT-w "People So Stupid"

What a contradiction, being human is so tragic Focus on minorities, ignoring all the masses Hallelujah, everyone, activism saved the planet No more plastic straws in paper Just paper straws wrapped in plastic, congratulations

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oxJtX081jj4 "WHITEBOY"

I would never hate a man for what God gave him in pigments And I would never plot against him just because he is different I would never judge a human for the cards he was given or Call them lesser than myself 'cause of the race that he's mixed with

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=omMpqbuyDdc "Straight White Male"

Fine, y'all don't gotta be my friends Y'all don't gotta like white men Y'all don't gotta hold my hand Y'all don't gotta have my back Y'all don't gotta, y'all don't gotta, y'all don't gotta, uh Y'all don't gotta see my side Y'all don't gotta be down to ride Y'all don't gotta do anything but ghost And I'mma do me even when it's the most, yeah

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ita4g_oDyns "Politically Incorrect"

Don't let 'em censor your thoughts Don't let 'em make you regret that you talked Don't let 'em tell you that nice is the law Tryna make you all right here when nothing is wrong, yeahWords hurt you, clothes hurt you Memes hurt you, jokes hurt you, we hurt you Half the time you don't even probably know what hurt you But you super mad, trust we heard you

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EHBMbZdCpSk "Cancelled"

I don't care if you mad at me, okay? Go ahead and change the channel Don't waste your time tryna cancel me, okay? They love me 'cause they know that I'm an asshole Say what you want, I guess it is what it is Haters can talk but they can't cancel the kid Go 'head and go off, try and say this is it But I swear to God, you can't cancel the kid

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2l6JUNFAJ9o "Fake Woke"

Use violence to get peace and wonder why it isn't working That's like sleeping with a football team to try and be a virgin Politicians are for sale and someone always makes the purchase But you and I cannot afford it, our democracy is worthless If a man has mental illness call him crazy, say it silently When country's going crazy we accept it as society

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t86ClLM3ZGY "NO LIVES MATTER"

Freedom's dead, if you have an opinion, take it back (facts) People hate the president, if you don't then you trash (facts) Indoctrinate the nation using news and mainstream rap (facts) The government abuses us, it's all part of the plan (facts)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B2K1xQOp4qo "White Trash"

This is for my white trash, the ones the whole world hate The ones who voted for Trump, got labeled racist but ain't The ones with ball caps, "Make America Great" Who love their country to death Who struggle on minimum wageAyy, they angry about illegal aliens Takin' work that maybe they could get Single parents with some baby kids Hated for being a patriot All my life, I've been white trash All my life, it's been like that The whole world been left leanin' I'm proud of the right who fight backBeen chewed up and spit out They scream but no one listens They're so in love and vote for Trump 'cause fuck a politician They're our neighbors They're our soldiers, our men and women and children They're middle class families who got forgot by the systemUh, in God we trust and all the guns are just backup Rockin' camouflage, don't tread on me, get smoked like tobacco Yeah, we're white trash, we rednecks, crackers since we were young We grew close, we move slow, these colors don't run

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gT5DpOiQ_WA "Fake Fans" (DISS)

Look, I ain't changing for a buck, I ain't changing for a fan I ain't changing nothing up, this is who the fuck I am If you fuck with me, I'll hope that y'all enjoy it Beware of all the fake fans trying to destroy it, yeahI ain't switching it up, I am the man that I was Way before I blew up and everyone fell in love Never once gave a fuck, been doing me from the jump And I will never become the man that you wish I was

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zeb7bVA3pjE "Im Sorry"

Sorry, that doesn't bother me I don't owe anybody an apology I don't have no regrets in my biology Reload and shoot for the stars, y'all look like astronomy No one as hot as me, copy me commonly Wannabes, y'all are so shockingly comedy Carry the weight of my songs all on top of me I will not break, I'm not made out of potteryBury your bodies on acres of property Place them at angles like sacred geometry Down with modesty Everything I drop is quality Promise, like honestly, follow me

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=83Ntpeih4f4&t=236s "Buttholes"

Someone's always gonna hate you no matter what Might as well just be yourself and let people think you suck Opinions are like buttholes, everyone got one they cover up And all you gotta do is follow through When you're yelling that you don't give a fuckI ain't letting anyone piss in my Cornflakes Stay the hell out my face, and I will stay out of your way I know that life is cruel, and lately it ain't fair at all You hate your job, your phone is lost, there's evil men and racist cops Yeah, I don't care if you are black or white or gay or straight Or old or young or smart or dumb or where you're from or what you make The only thing I care about is living like I'm not afraid Of dying while I'm sleeping, so I seize it while I'm still awakeWe're so angry, hating everyone we don't know We can't even take a joke, we should really let it go And be happy, stop talking shit on our phones And blocking everyone we know, we've been being buttholes

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ueyNLoRWdao "American Dreamz"

We're distracted by free porn and compilation videos of puppies and kittens While our children use the internet to bully one another and then purchase ammunition So addicted to your phone that you ignore the kids and never give them any supervision So they learn to build a bomb with things you keep inside your kitchen and you wonder how they ended up with life inside of prison We mourned a dead gorilla, but don't care when it's a person, we're forgetting that we're human We're angry that chickens are being locked up in cages and then forget we do the same to kids in our institutions When they ask you about stupid shit, you tell 'em they should Google it Then you wonder why the troubled youth are homicidal lunatics You think it's tragic when a shooter killed a student But then say it's all a plan for them to change the constitution

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BQ4tAbwi31I "Castles"

Everybody's got a story; if you look a little closer, you can see it in the wrinkles in their face They can hide it in the silence, they can bury it and fight it, but it comes out when their hair is turning grey You can feel it if you touch 'em, you can tell that they are troubled, you can hear the story running through their veins We all travel different roads, and we put on different clothes; underneath it all, we're really all the same

Everybody has a tale that they're too afraid to tell, you can see it in the cracks in their hands They can cover it with smiles; if you walk a couple miles in their shoes, then you'll know where they stand Everyone who really lived had to climb out of a ditch they were in before they found the right path If you wanna know the truth about what we've been going through, then try to put your phone away so you can ask

We've all got problems, and we all feel alone We've all been haunted by the secrets we hold We could fill our coffins with the rocks they have thrown Or we could build our castles with the sticks and the stones We've all got problems, and we all feel alone We've all been haunted by the secrets we hold We could fill our coffins with the rocks they have thrown Or we could build our castles with the sticks and the stones

We are the neighbors that you'll never meet We are the strangers walking down your street We are a million faces in the crowd We are the ones the system's tearing down We are the people working to survive We are more than just our nine-to-fives We are the shopping malls and streetcars We are one, it's time to tell 'em just who we are

#Tom MacDonald

7 notes · View notes

delusionalwriterr · 4 years

Text

Resurgence (4)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avengers!Reader

Summary: After accepting a mission from an old friend, you and along with the other Avengers set out to another planet to retrieve a mysterious gem. Little did you know that the gem isn’t the only thing inhabiting the planet and soon found yourselves in a sticky situation.

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: slow burn, language, friendship issues, mentions of injuries, death, inaccurate depictions of space travel, angst, fluff

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters and any of the other fictional works mentioned.

Chapter 3 | Masterlist | Chapter 5

MORTVIVUS - 1 HOUR, 45 MINUTES, 23 SECONDS SINCE THE STORM

“Any luck?” you asked Bucky and Sam as you monitored the storm’s intensity. You were sitting in front of the computer as you tried to contact the Benetar, but the storm was blocking any signal for communication. Your leg was bouncing up and down at an abnormal speed as you chewed on the inside of your cheek, worried for your two teammates who were stuck inside of an alien temple. Steve noticed this and placed a comforting hand on your knee to try and calm you down. You looked at him and offered him a small smile.

“Nothing,” Bucky grumbled from the other end of the line, “it’s like it doesn’t want us to leave.” he continued as you saw them turn another corner through their suit cameras.

“Hey,” Sam called as he stood by one of the walls, “check this out.” He was standing in front of what seemed like cave paintings that were carved into the walls of the maze. They were several stick figures that were forming a circle around a stone. On the other side of the wall were the same stick figures forming a circle, but this time it was around a tree. “Are they worshipping it?” Nat asked as she watched through the screen. “Seems like it,” Bucky mumbled as he ran his fingers across the carvings.

“What about the tree though? I didn’t see anything out there,” Steve piped up. “Beats me,” Sam sighed, “any updates on the storm?”

Rhodey rushed to check the monitor. “The wind speed is decreasing. It looks like it’ll dissipate in an hour or so,” he informed, earning relieved sighs from the two men. “Great, the sooner we get out of this place the better— wait,” Bucky started, “was that there before?” he asked, pointing at something at the end of the hallway. You gaped at the screen. “Don’t tell me that’s—“

“Did we just find the center again?” Sam asked as the two of them walked towards the entrance of the middle room. “I swear this hallway was a dead end,” he muttered to himself as they entered the room.

Their eyes landed on the gem once again. It was still where they left it, sitting on top of its crystal podium and still emitting a green glow. “Stay alert, we don’t know when that doppelgänger will show up again,” Steve commanded as you watched Sam and Bucky approach the podium. “Who said there was only one of them,” Bucky mumbled as he started to reach for the stone only to have Sam slap his hand away.

“What do you think you’re doing?!”

“Okay, first of all, ow.”

“Who knows what that thing can do, man! Don’t put your hands all over it!”

“Well if you’re so smart, why don’t you touch it!”

“That makes no sense, Barnes.”

“Rock, paper, scissors. Come on.”

“What? No!”

“Guys!” you shouted, catching the attention of both of them. “No one’s touching anything, alright? Until we’re sure it’s safe to hold, just steer clear from it.” you stated. Sam and Bucky nodded as they turned away from the podium and started making their way out of the center only to see you and Steve standing in the way of one of the exits.

“Something tells me that we should start shooting,” Bucky jeered as he aimed his gun towards the two aliens in front of them. Sam mirrored his actions. “Agreed.”

The next thing you knew, the aliens were climbing on the walls and the ceiling as Bucky and Sam fired bullets towards them. Bucky was chasing after the alien that looked like you while Sam was chasing after the one that looked like Steve. He was successful with putting a bullet through the alien, but his eyes widened when he saw the skin move against the bullet, immediately healing its skin.

Bucky tried to shoot you, but the bullet hit one of the torches, ricocheting back to him and piercing through just under his rib cage. He let out a strangled groan, making Sam turn to him. He cursed under his breath as he rushed towards Bucky and slung his arm around his shoulder. “Barnes is hit,” he stated, making your heart stop momentarily. You watched them as they waddled out of the room and continued to find an exit.

Not even a few minutes later, they managed to find a way out and luckily the storm was gone by then. “Come on, man, work with me here,” Sam grumbled as he heaved a limp Bucky out of the temple. They were met with the bright sun as they finally left the place they’ve been stuck in for almost two hours. “It’s hard to cooperate when you have a hole in your goddamn torso, Wilson.” Bucky croaked as he made futile attempts to keep up with Sam’s pace while they tried to outrun the two aliens in their pursuit.

“Oh, fuck it.” Sam hissed as he slipped both of his arms under Bucky’s and activated his wingsuit to fly both of them back to the ship.

You ran towards the doors and opened them just in time only to have Sam and Bucky fly past you before collapsing on the ground. You hurriedly shut the door before the aliens could come through and rushed over to your two teammates.

“Welcome back,” Rhodey called out. Sam threw him a dirty look only to have him throw his arms up in defense. You kneeled over Bucky who had his eyes closed and who was laying on the floor, clutching his wounded stomach. “Let me patch you up,” you said quietly. He opened his eyes to meet yours before slowly nodding and standing up to go to another part of the ship.

“So what’s it like shooting an alien that looked like your girlfriend?” you asked as you extracted the bullet from his torso. He let out a laugh as he was sprawled on top of the table before wincing at the pain. “Definitely wouldn’t wanna have to do it again,” he answered softly. You started to stitch him up, causing him to wince some more. He always hated needles.

“Quit whining, big baby,” you chuckled as you continued to stitch. You slid his glass of whiskey closer to him which he gladly took and drank all of it in one sip. Bucky hummed upon feeling the familiar burn of liquor run down his throat as he already felt his body becoming numb from the alchohol. “I’m your big baby, though.” he quipped as he placed the glass back down on the table.

You shook your head and smiled as you finished the last stitch before cutting any excess thread and setting down the first aid kit. He sat up with a groan only to be engulfed into your arms. You clung onto his neck as he wrapped his arms around your waist. “I almost lost you out there,” you mumbled, trying to keep tears from falling down.

He placed his hand on the back of your head and stroked your hair gently. “You won’t get rid of me that easily, doll.” he replied, placing a kiss on your temple. The both of you stayed in silence for another couple of minutes until a faint glow from his back pocket caught your eye.

“Buck,” you started as you pulled away to have a closer look into his pocket, “what is that?”

Bucky followed your gaze. “Oh, I managed to grab this on the way out,” he explained before pulling out what was the source of the glow. A green tint was casted on his face as he held the object in front of both of you. Your jaw dropped as you stared at the Resergentium Stone between Bucky’s fingers.

Taglist: @thewolfgirluniverse @kingbuckyx @indecisivedolly @needlsjacksonfan

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x y/n #the winter soldier x reader #the winter soldier x y/n #bucky barnes #sebastian stan #the winter soldier #marvel #the avengers #marvel headcannon #resurgence #delusionalwriterr

34 notes · View notes

6ninaph9 · 4 years

Text

Climbing up the temple (a short sceen)

I’ve been feeling kinda shit about the plot and worldbuilding of my book, so I went back to the reason I write in the first place: the characters.

So here, have some ‘Clementine just being Clementine’, cause writing that makes me happy, and maybe you’ll like it too!

~Nina PH

It was a slow day and that hated it.

For most people, slow days are good in the temple: no battle, no cleaning duty, no exam to study for. While everyone else is laying back and relaxing, I just can't seem to do the same.

I walked to the sleeping quarters through the empty hallway. I don't like hearing my footsteps in the hall in the middle of the day. The day is supposed to be active, the halls buzzing with people. I like the clamor of conversations as people walk by me, of a hundred feet hitting the wooden floor as they all go their own separate way. Today everyone was sitting around in the gardens, talking, eating sugar, and playing card games in small groups, like they themselves were flower bushes growing underneath the cool shadows of the trees. Now there were only two feet in my ears and it was driving me insane.

I entered the sleeping quarters and took in a deep breath of the refreshing air. The windows were partly closed and the blindfolds shut down, keeping the room cool, almost chilly in comparison to the heat of the outside world. It felt alien to step in this secret pocket of existence, like walking into a new undiscovered cave, filled with darkness and mysteries demanding your attention. But no, it was the same old boring sleeping room and my eyes didn't need to wait to get used to the lack of light as muscle memory sat me down on my sleeping mat.

The room was empty, except for me and the sleeping bundle under the blanket. My blanket. I kicked him in a friendly fashion: »Max! Wake up!«

He groaned and kicked me back: »No.«

»Oh come on,« I stole my blanket from him, letting the cold air shake him awake. My plan was unsucesefull: underneath mine, he was still tightly holding onto his own blanket, bringing it over his head to try to escape me.

»Nothing is going on. I want to do something.«

»I'm not stopping you…«

»Let's go spar.«

»No.«

»Max!« I shook him, trying to rip the blanket away from him, but he held on to it like it was his family honor. »You can't just nap through the entire day.«

»Watch me,« he yawned.

He left me no choice: I got up and with my full force half-fell half-jumped on him, shoulder first. Even if this wasn't going to work, the noise he made alone was entertainment enough. It sounded like a deer that swallowed a blader ballon and was trying to vomit it back up. Max did not find it as hilarious as I did.

»How can you be so cruel? To wake me up at such an unhuman hour…« he squeezed his voice from underneath me.

»It's 16:45 and you've been napping for 3 hours.« I got off him, mostly because his knee was sticking into my shoulder blade. Max is a terrible pillow.

He slowly sat up, able to breathe again: »That's still 5 hours too little…« He rubbed his eyes: »Can't you bother Pietar with your boredom?«

»He's busy with work…«

I didn't check in his office before coming to Max. I didn't have to. A beautiful summer day without a single cloud in the sky, perfect to take a break from daily work and hustle? Where else is Pietar going to be but locked up in his office, buried under a mountain of papers he doesn't actually need to file till another month. I'd bet all my money, of which I have non, that his office window is locked closed, making the air inside smell that all too familiar odor of sweat mixing with dust and oily stale ink. I was not going there, no thank you. I was bored, not desperate.

»I'm busy too…« his hand grabbed for the blanket, but mine was faster, throwing the warm fuzzy fabric on the other side of the cold room. He groaned and slumped right back on his matt: »I was having a particularly nice dream.«

»The brunet?«

He smirked: »The ginger one with freckles.«

»Oh, you hoe!«

»That's my middle name, baby.« He threw his arm over his eyes, blocking out the light that wasn't really there: »You can join me. We'll be hoes together.«

I lay down next to him: »As much as I love being a hoe with you, no. I can't just lay around and do nothing. I'm not made like that.«

»Have you ever tried?«

»Why would I try if I already know it sucks?«

He sighed, every air particle escaping him filled with annoyance and disappointment in me: »Than just… do something while doing nothing.«

»… Dude, saying stupid stuff is my thing, not yours.«

»I mean while relaxing occupy your mind with something. Make a plan of how to get Pietar out of his office, draw a map of the temple grounds. At Astis, you love numbers so much, just count to 100 in your head. Most importantly,« his face turned to mine, his eyes slim from sleep: »do it in silence.« And he turned back away from me.

I stared at the ceiling for a while, thinking. No, I wasn't counting to 100! Neither was I planning to drag Pietar out of his office. I've tried it before, but if I haven't managed it in the last 13 years, I wasn't gonna succeed now.

Drawing the map part… That I could get behind. The problem was, a map of what? I already have more than 20 of them. I've drawn the temple gardens, all the floors and rooms, Pietars office alone counted about half of my map collection. There was no place inside the temple walls I haven't sketched and measured and calculated in size. I know every inch of land inside the walls by heart. But… outside the walls…

I stood up over him: »Come on, get up.«

»Hmgg…« he grumbled. How can a human fall asleep so easily?

»Come with me!« I started pulling his arm up.

»Why? What?«

»We're gonna climb.«

»That's… the opposite of what I told you to do!«

»Trust me, you'll like it.«

»There's climbing involved: I will not.«

»You'll still get to sleep.«

He sat up, his eyes skeptical: »If this is a trick, I'm gonna kick you in the kneecaps.«

»Deal!«

I walked to the window, opened them and shoved the blinds up, letting light and heat take over the room. Max very slowly, his feet dragging on the floor, more in bored defiance than actual tiredness, approached me. I jumped on the window sill and slid on the outside wall of the temple, still looking through the window at him: »You coming?«

»… We're climbing on the temple?«

»Yeah.«

»… You lied to me. Give me your kneecaps.«

I laughed: »Come and get my kneecap,« and started climbing up.

The stones were hot, the wall absorbing all the heath and shooting it back into my hands. No one ever climbed in the summertime. No one ever climbed on the temple any time, but even the climbing rocks right outside the temple were in this time abandoned and silent. I presume it's exactly because of the heat of the stone. I never minded it. The walls being hot or freezing cold didn't make it harder, it just made it more interesting. I was already at the next floor by the time Max even got his footing on the outside wall, overanalyzing every next step and position on the stones.

He yelled up at me: »If I fall and die you're gonna have to explain to my parents what at Astis I was doing climbing up a building!«

»You're not gonna fall!« I turned around, waiting for him to catch up. I held myself in place with one hand and foot, letting the other two limbs relax in the open air. The Red Sun shinned harsh on my face but I loved it. The small beads of sweat on my arm disappearing just as quickly as they appeared, stolen away by the still, windless air. My muscles tense and under pressure, held me locked to the wall 15 meters above the dry dirt. If someone were to fall, they'd go even farther, rolling another 30 meters down the steep hill the temple is set on, only stopping when their body would crash in the swamp. They probably wouldn't survive it.

I smirked at the thought. Me? Falling? Yeah right.

Max finally climbed face to face to me. His limbs were almost digging into the walls, arms tense to the point you could see his veins popping out. His face was turned forward with his body shaking at even the thought of moving a centimeter away from the wall. He eyed me up and down and squinted his eyes in annoyance. »You look like a sail on a boat.«

»Thank you.« I knew he didn't say it as a compliment, but what can I say, I enjoyed being better than him at something.

And he wasn't wrong, I was a sail: free in the open air, ready to take on the world and travel to places no human has been before. Or, in my case, just to the rooftop.

»Hey snail, I thought you wanted to go back to sleep quickly.« I climbed on, Max not able to keep up.

He grinned weakly: »I could beat you to the top! If I wanted to…«

»Keep telling yourself that!« I jumped to the next stone that poked out slightly, probably giving Max a tiny heart attack because I was moving so 'carelessly'. I wasn't careless, I just knew how to do it.

Left hand to the left, leg locked to the right, the other one put up- nope, not that stone. »Watch it, this one is shaking!« The stone above? Yes. Past Pietars window, completely shut closed and blinds down – called it! And one more pull up with my right hand and, voila! My butt was on the edge of the roof.

When Max got in reach I offered him a helping hand. He cringed as the sweat of our hands mixed together, his hands shaking from discomfort while I pull him up and next to me. He quickly let go of my arm and wiped it in his shirt, still breathing deeply.

After he caught his breath he looked at the view in front of us: »Wow…«

I smiled and followed his eyes. Green colors, dark and bright and those turning into yellows, covered the land all to the horizon, the fields lined on one side by a thick forest, on the other by the mountain range. We've been to the fields countless times, but being up here, where you could see how far they stretch, in constant motion either by the wind or small animals hiding in the grass, it stopped being just a piece of land to walk on. It was alive and grand and sitting here, I understood why the gods loved our world. One glance at it explained it better than any book or monk could.

A blue stream splits the land in two, the fields of our and of the east temple, and ends up in the small lake in between our and their hill. I didn't bother looking at their side, ours was much prettier. From up here, you couldn't hear the gurgling of the water, but I liked to pretend I did. The thought of going anywhere near that death puddle was deeply disturbing to my stomach. I'd much rather experience the falling-down-while-climbing situation than have to step in a half meter radius of that thing. But the sound of a tiny stream rolling over shinny stones… I've never heard it. And in all of Maxes books, they described it so beautifully.

So I sat on the warm roof tiles, my feet dangling in the air, pretending to enjoy what I imagined the flowing water sounded like.

Max had laid down much further away from the edge, spreading his arms and legs wide, eyes closed, taking in the warmth: »This is nice…«

»Oh, so you might say that the climb was worth it?«

»Your kneecaps are safe,« he smiled: »for now.«

So we spend the slow day on the roof, Max napping and stretching, his skin getting even tanner, if that's even possible, and me enjoying the sight beneath and around me. I tried to take in every detail, to remember distances between landmarks, to calculate what proportions I would choose to fit it all on a piece of paper, yet not making it so small that the charm and complexity of the land would be lost in it.

The Red Sun touched my cheeks, like giving me their blessing to immortalize in ink the world they have created.

I smiled. This will be a fun map to draw.

#NinaPH #Nina PH #TTT #Clementine #mywriting #mybook #Clementine doesn't need food and water to survive #Just climbing and drawing maps

3 notes · View notes

wordcubed-writes · 4 years

Text

My villain OCs: The Problem-Solvers

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Fanfic: untitled AFO!Izuku AU

Context: As promised at the end of my AFO!Izuku AU timeline, here is the first of several posts about my fic's villain OCs.

Today's bunch are minor characters I created because I needed to solve a problem. They don't get much, or any, development. They exist simply to enable the plot to happen, and most only appear in one or two scenes. They’re so unimportant, I only have placeholder names for them at this point.

While their Quirks are all incredibly useful, many also have side affects that make them impossible to use without hurting people.

____________________

The Universal Translator

One of the goals of my AFO!Izuku AU is making the world feel bigger. I can't have Japan be the heart of hero society if we never see anything outside Japan, can I? But that raises another problem: how the heck can I have people from different sides of the planet casually talk to each other? Easy! A universal translator Quirk.

Babel works for the Consortium. With a touch, he can make a person fluent in every language (that has living fluent speakers on Earth). Obviously, this is so incredibly valuable that it needs one hell of a downside to explain why he can only find work as a villain. (Not that he's reluctant. Babel is totally okay with his Quirk's cost; it's not like he's the one paying it.)

For every person Babel "gifts" this way, he has to assign another person to lose the ability to speak, write, and understand language—any and all language. This victim is left unable to understand or communicate with any person or media around them, for the rest of their life. (Babel's villain name makes sense now, doesn’t it?) And that "rest of their life" is usually short, because no victim of this has ever lasted more than a couple years before killing themselves—being that isolated, that alienated, is unbearable for a human being.

But it gets worse! Victims and recipients are paired. Within several hours of choosing and touching a recipient, he needs to choose and touch a victim, or else suffer the downsides of his Quirk himself. When a victim dies, their paired recipient loses their universal fluency (and vice versa if a recipient dies before the victim, though this rarely happens). Thanks to the high suicide rate of his victims, Babel needs to constantly create more of them.

Obviously, the only people who'd be okay with this cost are pretty awful. The Consortium is canny enough that they help Babel choose victims who either won't be missed or that the Consortium needs silenced (which they can literally, thanks to Babel).

Random bit of backstory for Babel: his personal paired victim is the only one he's forcibly kept alive. He hasn't lost his universal fluency for almost twenty years now.

The Medic

Hurtswap exists because I felt that Inko's faction needed a healer on their side. Hurtswap's Quirk allows them to swap an injured body part with someone else's healthy body part. This has obvious downsides: they need access to uninjured people to heal any injuries. And unlike Babel, they can't delay the exchange for very long; if Hurtswap heals someone, they need to assign the injury to someone else within a few minutes, or else suffer the injury with their own body.

Inko takes Hurtswap in when they're still a kid, but by time Izuku starts at UA, they're in their twenties, and they're pretty skilled. They've gotten creative, and can swap injuries onto animals, provided the animal has the right anatomy. For example, Hurtswap can give a human's broken femur to any animal with a femur (and the human's femur will be healed), but they couldn't do this with, say, an insect, because insects don't have that kind of skeleton.

I've been going back and forth on how to write them. Sometimes I think it'd be interesting to make them a Mad Doctor(tm) who enjoys using their Quirk, mostly because I like the idea of giving Himiko an adult in her life who sympathizes with, or even adores, how creepy and stabby she is.

Other times, I lean towards making Hurtswap a woobie who hates hurting people or animals, but still feels obligated to save other people. Someone who reluctantly swaps your broken arm onto a rat, then completely ignores you and cries and dotes over the now-injured rat. This version obviously allows for more angst, and possibly more character development, but I don't want to write Inko pressuring a kid into using a Quirk they hate.

We'll have to see which direction I take them.

The Wealthy Sponsor

So like, where is homeless single mom Inko getting the money to establish a found family villainous empire? Answer: somebody rich is using her shelter to launder money.

I also wanted to address an issue that canon BNHA doesn't really touch: class. In-canon, Shinsou has a "villainous" Quirk, and needs to follow the straight-and-narrow rules just to get a fair shake. In this AU, Inko's sponsor also has villainous Quirk, but he’s rich and powerful. The law protects him, but it does not bind him—the inverse of Shinsou.

Secret Thief's Quirk lets him know the secrets of the people around him. Its strength is based on distance. Across the street from you? He can learn secrets that would be mildly embarrassing to you if the wrong person learned them. Shaking your hand? He knows the secrets that could destroy your life if they got out.

Secret Thief got booted out of UA for being a real mean son of a bitch. (Not by Aizawa; Secret Thief is actually slightly older than him. Also he was, naturally, in the management course.) But Secret Thief's family was also rich, so he had options; he ~redeemed~ himself by going on an apology tour, donating money and even personally volunteering at various charities. At one of them, he meets Inko, and immediately picks up on all the secrets she's keeping.

Secret Thief sees Inko as easy prey. She works in a sketchy part of town with sketchy people (her shelter is one of the few with a "no questions asked" policy, so a lot of people with "bad" Quirks, or who're skirting the edge of the law, end up there), and she treasures her son, Izuku.

As far as Secret is concerned, he's being very nice: Inko gets legitimacy, money and aid she needs to continue her work, a contact among rich and influential people, and a more robust cover for her illegal activities.

All he gets out of it is a pet project to build his reputation and skills with, a legally-separate organization to funnel and hide resources in, easy access to desperate people willing to work under the table, and plausible deniability if anyone finds out. Oh, and Secret makes it very clear that if the public ever learns what Inko has done, she manipulated him, and she will take the fall.

Secret Thief comes the closest to getting a character arc. He's obviously in a position of power over Inko, capable of destroying her life. But later, after Inko's gang has built ties to powerful groups like the Consortium (and even dangerous people like All For One), Secret Thief realizes she's outgrown him—he's just one of many influential contacts she has, and the rest have power he can't touch.

The Secret Keeper

So with all sorts of secrets to be kept, and especially with Secret Thief and other mind-readers prowling around, how do villains keep the wrong information from getting out to the wrong people?

Censor is a freelancer for other villains. Her Quirk, Classified, makes it so that if you learn any new information when it's activated, you become unable to share that information with anyone else—unless the other person themselves already knows it. This applies to everything, not just important secrets.

For example, if you learn a new fact about octopuses, you won't be able to talk, write, or otherwise signal it to another person unless that other person already knows that same fact. Now replace "octopuses" with any information you don't want people finding out.

Her Quirk is one of the few counters to psychic Quirks, outright blocking information from them. Censor's character debut is when the Consortium reaches out to Inko, and they want to share information with her despite the possibility that she may refuse to join them.

Random bit of backstory for Censor: she's from a big family, all with similar Quirks. They have close ties to the Consortium, and were some of the few "civil servants" of the supervillain dictator era to side with that group instead of All For One's League of Villains.

The Teleporter

It gives me a lot more options in the story if characters can just sometimes appear where they need to be.

Tesseract can shift the space within a thirty-meter-across cube around himself into a higher dimension, both surveying and quickly relocating to any other spot of his choosing. He is very busy, since teleportation Quirks are rare and obviously valuable, so it's not like he hangs around the Important Characters moving them whenever. There are plenty of times when someone has to shrug and take a 12-hour plane flight.

Tesseract's Quirk has no major downsides, aside from the fact that he doesn't look human—just a vaguely-humanoid shattered pane of multi-colored glass. He's relatively young (late teens), but he's been groomed since he was a kid by CORE's own longtime (and elderly) teleporter to be her successor.

____________________

Notes: I’ve put way too much thought into these, despite how unimportant they are.

Tomorrow: Two other OCs. Both close to Inko, and they actually get character development!

#AFO!Izuku AU #MHAfic #BNHA #OCs #fanfiction

9 notes · View notes

orangejuice-y · 4 years

Text

If I Were Someone Brave: 1 (First Steps)

Summary: Trained military sharpshooter Beau Young is stationed at a secret and secure base housing various technologies with unknown uses and abilities. When Beau activates one of said devices she is thrust into a wormhole, sending her hundreds to thousands of years into the future. When she arrives she finds nothing but wasteland as far as the eye can see. Confused and disoriented, Beau walks for days until she stumbles upon a wall, beyond which is the utopia of Detroit Deluxe. Tired, hungry, and looking for answers Beau heads in, meeting and joining forces with the city's governor Abraham Kane to fight against a group from a city in the sewers, the Burners. But where do her loyalties truly lie?

Originally Posted: AO3 on 2019-04-29

Word Count: 3,250

Writer’s Thoughts: I hate this chapter hdfuaksvf. It’s so bad, but the story gets better as you read (I hope). A very weak start for the fic in my opinion, but this was also my first serious works, and I’ve been working to improve in the year I’ve been not posting.

"Sargent Young, Major Jamensen will see you now."

A woman nodded to the uniformed man, entering the metal door he had just left from. A stern and powerful looking man sat at a cluttered and rickety looking desk facing the door. The moment the door slid shut behind her the woman saluted him.

"At ease soldier," he said, waving his hand to her as she sat down across from him. "Miss Beau Young. Your reputation proceeds you. It's no wonder you've become a Sargent at such a young age."

"Thank you sir, it means a lot." Beau bowed her head to him as he continued.

"And because of that you will be transferred." Jamensen shuffled through the appropriate papers, not sparing Beau a glance. "Your new post will be at area 51."

"Area 51? Isn't that place really high security? No disrespect, but are you sure I should be put on the job?"

Jamensen nodded. "Even so, you're a good shot. Sharpshooters like you are one in a million." Beau thanked him for the praise, though she figured he was just trying to reassure her. "You won't be doing anything too high security. You'll only be making rounds around building 5."

Beau had no clue what building 5 was, she'd never been given access to anything in area 51, same as the majority of soldiers.

"A jeep is waiting for you there now, Sargent Young. Don't disappoint."

"Yes sir." Beau stood up and saluted Jamensen before exiting his office. She hadn't packed anything yet, but she wouldn't dare talk back to her superiors.

Following his orders almost mechanically, Beau made her way out of the small building and into the Nevada desert. Just as he said there was a military jeep parked right outside, two stone-faced military officers waiting. She hurried in and slammed the door shut as the car peeled out of the base.

The ride was silent. It was clear the two in the front weren't one for conversation, making the car ride dull. Beau tried to look out the window for some kind of entertainment, like a wild dog or really anything. But the was only met with dirt, rocks, and more dirt, making the hour or so ride feel like decades.

As the car finally came to a stop she hastily tumbled out with a heavy sigh.

"Finally! Something other than nothing!" Beau had a smile as she looked up at the gates to the secured military base. The two men got out as well, giving her a sidelong glance as she pulled herself up. They lead her into the compound, weaving through groups of soldiers patrolling the grounds.

Unlike the base she came from Area 51 seemed to have much better equipment and upkeep, for obvious reasons. The buildings that surrounded her were concrete, lacking any detail other than thick metal doors and spare windows. Beau looked to the groups of fellow soldiers going about their duties. They all seemed far more diligent than the ones back at her base. They all had something to do, be it patrol or move equipment, and when they weren't doing that they spent their time training. It was clear that there wasn't a second wasted here.

"Sargent Young."

"Y-yes!" Beau was pulled from her people watching when one of the two men turned to her. They had stopped in front of a rather small one-story building.

"This is building 5, where you will patrol. Whatever's in there is broken, so don't worry about fucking up your new job just yet." Without any further explanation, the two left her there.

I guess I'll get my rifle after mealtime then...

Beau entered the building, looking around to see if anyone was there. She was alone. She let out a sigh, relaxing her posture. Beau took a look around the room. It didn't seem too odd. Not at all what she was expecting at least. There were no crazy secret military or government experiments. No strange creatures in pods, no aliens. All that lined the walls where various machines and electronics. Circuit boards with blinking lights. Buttons and switches, all with labels that seemed like codenames, like Mother Goose A. How'd they remember any of these?

Beau stood by the door for over an hour, completely still in the room, watching for any movement. But there was nothing. Since nothing was going on and it didn't seem like anything would happen anytime soon Beau left her spot by the door, turning back to all the buttons and switches. She looked them each over.

Tree House, Starlight, what kind of labels were these?

That's why I'm not one of the scientists. Like hell I'd ever remember what these are...

Beau continued to read each label.

Project Donuthole?

Curiosity getting the better of her she decided to flip the switch. Nothing. No noise. No lights changed. Nothing.

"I guess they really are broken." Beau glanced off to the side, about to return to the front door. But then something caught the corner of her eye. A second door. One she hadn't noticed before. She made her way over.

"If I'm going to be patrolling this building and standing guard all day I might as well get acquainted with it." So with that, Beau pushed open the door. A flight of wooden stairs lead down to a basement. Instead of a dark abyss at the bottom there was a dazzling glow of colorful lights, drawing her in. Beau made her way down the stairs, each squeaking as she went.

When she finally reached the bottom her eyes widened. The room was completely empty, save for a giant colorful tear in the air. It was as if someone had taken a pair of scissors and cut through space. The pulsing and swaying lights drew her in further, leaving her senses dulled as she blocked out everything else.

"You aren't supposed to be down here!"

The voice caught Beau off guard, making her yell out. Her yelp only got louder as she lost her footing in surprise, sending her tumbling into the tear.

Colors swirled and engulfed Beau, making her nauseous as she fell for what seemed like hours. The silence was deafening, drowning out her screams.

Then it was suddenly over. A split second later she fell face first out of the tear. She scrambled to her feet, but what she saw before her nearly made her fall over again. Instead of seeing the basement room and an angry scientist she saw a wasteland. There were no signs of life. Beau couldn't recognize anything around her. All trees or plants that would be around was gone. There was no sign of anyone, be it plant, animal, or human.

Beau turned around, ready to go back through whatever she had come through. But it was gone, as if it had never existed.

"No...nononono please no! No no, it can't be gone!" Beau yelled, scratching at the air where the tear once was. Maybe she would have been braver if she had her rifle. Or if she had any clue where she was.

The adrenaline in her blood and the strobing colors finally got to her, making her throw up. She fell to the ground. She laid there, dry heaving even after she was sure she’d thrown up everything in her stomach. Her thoughts of self hate and loathing raced, trying to regain her breath again, until she couldn’t stand it any longer.

Pathetic! What kind of soldier am I if I can't get through this?

Beau pulled herself up. She had to go. Go anywhere. If she walked long enough she was sure to find something. Some sign of humans, or anything living.

So that's what she did. She walked and walked. She had no real destination in mind. How could she? She had no clue where she was. But she couldn't just give up and die. Beau walked for a day and a half in the desert wasteland. In that time she hadn't encountered anything, no food, no water, no animals. Not even a cactus she had assumed would dot the sand. Her hope was quickly fading as she faced the threat of dying from dehydration. Or whatever made this place a wasteland. Weak, tired, and hungry Beau struggled to stay afoot. Then she saw it

A wall.

It was huge, stretching as far as the eye could see both left and right. Beau tilted her head to the sky. She couldn't see the top. Her heart skipped a beat she struggled her way over. As she got closer and closer to the wall small figures started to take shape, and those small figures soon turned into people.

"H-hey!" She called out to them. Each of them turned in alarm. Their clothes were something she'd never seen before. A full body suit, white and light blue, with an unfamiliar emblem and a tag reading 'Kane Co.'. They wore hats that covered their entire head, only a small portion of their eyes visible. They all pointed guns shes never seen before at her, causing her to instinctively raise her hands.

"Please let me in...! I-I've been walking around out there for nearly two days!" Beau pleaded, causing the group to quietly converse with themselves, there eyes never leaving her for too long.

"So there really are people out there?

"But everything except Deluxe is gone right?"

"We'll have to take her to Kane."

Beau opened her mouth to ask what the hell they were talking about but was stopped when she was roughly grabbed by one of the men, the others pointing their guns at her. Of at least what she assumed to be guns. They were something she hadn't ever seen before, long and white with small blue details. They almost looked like a rectangle with a trigger. Either way, she didn't want to initiate any fight, she didn't have any strength left anyway.

The man holding her arm touched the wall, causing a small holographic square to pop up. Beau raised an eyebrow as the man typed into it. A section of the wall opened up as the keyboard shut off and Beau was lead inside. It seemed like an elevator, more holographic buttons showed up along one wall and she felt the room lurch as it began its accent. Her groggy mind assumed it was to the top of the wall, whatever it was that was up there. She got her answer when the doors slid open.

Inside was a city straight out of a sci-fi movie. Everything was white. Beau's mouth fell open in awe as she stared wide-eyed at all the floating towers and cube-shaped pods flying between them.

"What the hell is this place...?"

"What? Never been to Detroit?" One of the men said. Beau stared at him, even more confused.

"Detroit? Detroit Michigan? I've been to Detroit, and this sure as hell ain't it." Last she checked Detroit was a dangerous dirty and crime filled city. Not some futuristic place like this.

"Yeah, this is Detroit, always has been." The man glanced at her as they entered one of the pods. It floated up as soon as they were all in, heading for the tallest tower there.

"But Detroit is crime capital of the U.S! T-This is nothing like it!"

The men ignored her, focusing ahead at the incoming building. The pod docked and Beau was dragged out, lead through winding halls with endless doors. Soldiers and scientist walking the halls each gave her a range of confused, frightened, and disgusted glances. She tried to ignore them and brush them off. She was dressed differently then all of them, not wearing their white and blue uniforms, looking dirty and drained. No wonder she got looks.

The group stopped in front of a large set of doors, one bringing up the holographic keyboard again. Moments later the doors opened and Beau was pushed inside.

"We've brought the girl from the wasteland Mr. Kane." One of the soldiers spoke up.

Wait when did they tell this Kane guy?

"Good. You can leave now." Kane said as he turned around to face Beau. He dressed in all white and was bald at the top of his head. The rest of his hair was tied into a ponytail. He walked up to her, hands behind his back. "So your the girl they found in the wasteland?" The power and control behind his voice reminded Beau of her superiors, making her pull down the bandana from over her mouth and stand at attention as she answered him.

"Yes sir, that would be me."

"Why were you out there? Where did you come from?" Kanes voice was calm, but he was stern and forceful.

"I can't say I know. One second I was at the military base and the next I was on the ground in...wherever out there is."

Kane raised an eyebrow, clearly curious, though his eyes showed he was skeptical. "Tell me a bit about yourself."

Beau paused for a moment, trying to decide what he should and shouldn't know. "My name is Beau Young. I was Sargent and sharpshooter for the U.S military. One second I was at my new assignment and the next I was here."

"U.S military?" Kane echoed. His mouth twisted into a smile under his goatee. It combined with the glint in his eye sent a shiver down Beau's spine. "That's been disbanded for decades. Theres nothing left to protect."

Beau stared back at him in shock. "Pardon? That can't be sir, I was there just two days ago."

Kane looked her up and down. "You don't look like your from Deluxe. Did you come from Motorcity?"

Beau was only more confused by his question. "Sir, what year is it?" A stupid question, but the Detroit she knew was nothing like this.

"The year is 2219."

Beau stared off for a minute. The words didn't really connect for her put first? 2219? She was from 2019, how the hell was that possible? How was any of this possible? How could she walk from Nevada to Michigan in two days? How was Detroit the only thing standing? What was with all the futuristic...everything?

"That can't be."

Kane again raised an eyebrow. "And why's that?"

"I'm from 2019 sir. I was just stationed at Area 51 in Nevada. But now I'm here, in Detroit, in 2219. How is that possible?"

"You're from the past?" Despite how tense Beau seemed Kane began to laugh. He clearly didn't believe her. Beau gave in a concerned and confused glance. "At ease cadet." Kane said to her. Beau hadn't even realised she was still standing at attention, but the wasted no time following his commands. "You clearly know your way around a fight." He gestured to her muscular figure. "From the past or not, you could be extremely useful. How about we make a deal?"

Now it was Beau's turn to raise an eyebrow. "What kind if deal do you mean?"

"You help me protect the people of Deluxe from those Motorcity scum and I'll provide you a place here in Deluxe. You sure look hungry."

And that she was. But she also had no clue what Kane was talking about. "Isn't Detroit called the Motorcity? What's Deluxe?"

Kane smiled down at her. "A little history lesson then? You see, many years ago I built this wonderful city of Deluxe to protect the people of Detroit and give them a safe place out of the wasteland. Theres no danger to them here, and I work hard every day to make sure that's the case." He paused for a moment, looking out the window and down to the ground below the floating buildings. His eyes stopped on a small tunnel that seemed to lead underground. "But you see, the people of Motorcity want to tear all these people away from their safe haven, down to the sewers they live in, having no concern for safety where they do whatever it is they want." He turned back to Beau, a scowl now peeking from his goatee. "They say that I've stolen their freedoms, and they drive up here in their cars trying to start a fight. They're trying to put everyone here in danger. But none of them seem to understand what I sacrifice!" His voice boomed, frightening Beau for a moment, but Kane quickly regained his composure. "There are tough decisions I have to make, but I do it all for Deluxe. The scum of Motorcity come here and try to destroy everything I've sacrificed so much for. They must be stopped. They are a danger to all Deluxians."

Beau took a moment to take it all in. She still had no idea what had happened. She didn't know why everything was a wasteland. She didn't know much about Deluxe or Motorcity. Kane looked at her expectantly. "So, whatdda say kid?" Beau looked past him, out the windows of the skyscraper, down at all the other glass building. Down at all the floating pods carrying people across Detroit. This was all that was left of humanity. All the people in their identical jumpsuits went about their day as if it was like any other. And it was for them. They all seemed pretty happy. Why would someone try to destroy that happiness? It was that very question that sewed the seeds of doubt in her mind.

Suddenly the earsplitting screeching of tires cut through the air as a green muscle car peeled out from the tunnel. Guns strapped to it shot out green laser-like bullets, only adding to the noise pollution. The people nearby looked panicked as the car whipped past, driving on the barren winding white roads, jumping from pod to pod on it's way seeming up to where she and Kane where. Kane quickly ran over to the window, Beau close behind.

She'd never seen a car go so fast, even in the races on TV. It was going well over 200mph as Kane brought up one of the holographic screens, quickly typing commands into it. Beau watched from the window was several silver box shaped bits came from all directions, swarming the car as it shit at each, only causing more panic. Kane continued to send wave after wave at the car, which continued to speed to the building they where at as it fired. The car swerved left and right, barely keeping on the path. Beau was thoroughly impressed. At the speed it was going it was amazing the car stayed grounded on the thin track. Soon enough the boys became too much for the lone car to handle, causing it to drive off the path, falling on top of a passing pod. The driver wasted no time peeling off, going down and down until it reached the ground again, retreating back into the tunnel, a handful of boats chasing after.

Everyone down in Deluxe seemed terrified, as if they all expected to have been caught in the crossfire. They truly need protecting. Beau's mouth was agape as she stared down the tunnel.

Kane's loud breath brought her out of her transe. She walked up to him. Beau extended her hand to the man, looking him in the eye. "Sir, you have yourself a deal."

A smile spread across Kanes face as he too her hand, shaking it firmly. "Excellent. And please, call me Kane."

2 notes · View notes

tzaya · 4 years

Text

the switch - chap. 8

by tzaya

summary : she could’ve messaged him saying something came up, anything— so he could go home and tick it off on his list as an another unsuccessful attempt at love.

( shizuo/izaya // 1,571 words ) ♡ read all parts here .

“So, is the hospital closed or something?”

Shinra was far from happy to see him. He’d, apparently, interrupted Shinra’s favorite leisure activity of watching videos. Videos of Ikebukuro’s headless rider, of course. Shizuo couldn’t fathom the reason when Shinra literally shares a living space with her. Nevertheless, his friend welcomed him in, albeit with an expresion of displease marring his face.

“Y’know I can’t bring him there.”

Shizuo’s reputation wasn’t exactly favourable. The moment he steps foot into the hospital with an unconscious Izaya, the nurses would probably call the cops on him. There were witnesses back at the cafe who could vouch that he hadn’t laid a hit on Izaya, but he doubted any of them would do such thing. Besides, he’d imagine that their argument had already painted a bad picture of the situation.

Shinra sighed, bending forward to scrutinize Izaya. “What is the trouble this time? I don’t see any new injuries?”

“He just fainted. I didn’t do anything.” Shizuo laid Izaya down on the couch. Shinra raised a brow at that. He seemed intrigued.

“Why’d you help him then?”

“Kinda felt bad for screaming in his face.”

Shizuo occupied himself with the decoration on Shinra’s kichen counter while Shinra examined Izaya. The little alien trinket must’ve been purchased by Celty. His best friend was fond, or should he say, obsessed with extraterrestials. Closer inspection revealed the trinket to be a salt shaker (well, he might’ve made a bit of a mess – white specks of salt were all over the back of his hand by now). He couldn’t wait to get home and take a shower after this long, tiring day.

“It’s exhaustion. It seems like he hasn’t been resting again,” Shinra said. The ‘again’ part meant that this was a normal occurence. Shizuo knew the informant job was demanding, but Izaya striked him as the type who prefers to play over working. He was always scheming some stupid plans whenever Shizuo saw him anyway, that was for sure.

A part of him wondered if Izaya was losing sleep to search up about Koyuki.

“He’ll be okay. I don’t take it as you’re willing to carry him back to Shinjuku?” Shinra added further. Shizuo shot down the hopeful request immediately.

“No.”

“Right, I expected as much,” Shinra laughed. He made his way to where Shizuo was perched on one of the stools, mumbling something about making tea. “Let’s talk about your date! Celty filled me in, but it’s always best to hear right from the source.”

“She was nice, I guess. I don’t know what I feel about her.” Shizuo decided to tell the truth.

Shizuo had originally perceived her as a sweet girl he could potentially be with for the two weeks they’d chatted online, but the actual date left him feeling wrong, somehow. He wasn’t sure if it was because Izaya had been there. Would it have been better if the date was normal from the get-go? Or would he still feel this way? The feeling of wanting to get closer, but something was blocking his path. It was confusing.

“Understandable. On the contrary, Orihara-kun seemed to hate her.”

Shinra had conveniently failed to mention that it wasn’t only Celty who’d filled him in on the story.

While Shizuo was still reeling from the newfound information, Shinra proceeded to talk, pouring hot water into the teapot. “He ranted a lot while he was over. I thought he needed something but his hand was already in a cast. He only came to complain about you. It was amusing to see him so worked up, though!”

“What’d he say?”

“That he couldn’t find anything about her? He said something about tapping into your phone.” There was a moment of silence once Shinra realized what’d just slipped from his mouth. “Oh. Oops.”

Shizuo avoided Celty’s odd-looking salt shaker, but a section of the marble counter was already turning into dust under his fist. Shinra made a face at the destruction. “He. Did. What,” Shizuo grinded his teeth.

“It’s one way to get information, I mean. Unethical, for sure, but Orihara-kun was never one to care about such thing. His own job requires him to go to extremes sometimes when digging for bits and pieces of information.”

Shizuo didn’t respond. It took everything in him to remain calm and not choke the unconscious patient resting on the couch. The fact that Izaya went through his phone was infuriating. It wasn’t that he had a lot of important files or photos stored in it (he’d rather avoid this, after the ‘accidental’ incidents of him crushing the device), but all the private messages he had with his friends and family? Hell, he wouldn’t be surprised if Izaya could identify what Shizuo ate for breakfast this morning. It was toast, by the way. He’d mentioned it to Kasuka through text.

Aware of Shizuo’s inner turmoil, Shinra changed the topic a little. “Well? I heard he even dressed up for you?”

“Well what?” Shizuo exhaled angrily.

“Did you have fun being on a date with him?”

Shizuo crinkled his nose. He fixated his gaze on the drink Shinra had served him, and the way he could see light being reflected on the surface of the tea. Before Koyuki made her return, Izaya wasn’t a hundred-percent unbearable to be with. Though he couldn’t say for certain what kind of things Izaya was planning to do later into the night, had it continued to be only the two of them at the table.

“Wasn’t that bad. He cut the scallop for me.”

Shinra hummed in amusement. “I see you like partners who can pamper you! Good for you, Orihara-kun would probably spoil you given the chance. Though, maybe not with outright love declarations, but gifts and caring actions.”

“That’s not what I meant!” Shizuo grumbled. But thanks to the topic at hand, he could recall all that he and Izaya had talked about. “Ah, by the way, was he quiet back then? Said I could ask you.”

“Oh, he mentioned that? I only approached him because Celty told me I needed to make friends. It was a bit difficult to get through to him at first. He acted like his book was more interesting than me. That brings me to this, judging by the way you two preferred to be left alone, maybe you could’ve been good friends?”

It wasn’t easy to visualize Izaya as anything but his today asshole self. It was even harder to picture himself joking and laughing together with Izaya. What’d his life be like now if that was the case?

“He’d probably like the book than me. ‘Sides, things are different now, can’t change it.” Shizuo scoffed. “And the flea had the audacity to say he likes me.”

“What do you mean?”

“The date. He was fuckin’ around and said he liked me. ”

Shinra sipped on his tea, the corners of his lips curled up slightly. It seemed as though something was on his mind, but he chose against announcing it. “I see. It’s not too late to be friends, though I harbor doubts that you two will get over your stubbornness.”

“Whatever. Not planning on getting chummy with someone like him.”

“I figured. Well, worth a try! As long as you two don’t inconvenience me further than what I’m used to, I won’t interfere.”

The ring of a call interrupted their conversation. They both patted down their pockets, shared a look, before turning towards the only other person in the house. The ringtone must’ve gone for a minute or two (the caller seemed persistent) until the repetitive noise began to irk him.

“I’ll get it,” Shizuo left his seat. Izaya was still out of it, unmoving even as Shizuo fished the phone from his pocket and answered the call. He didn’t bother glancing at the contact name beforehand – figured it wasn’t anyone he was acquainted with.

“Nakura-san, I’ve been outside the cafe but I can’t find you? Could you give me the description of the clothes you’re wearing?” The caller on the other end sounded like a male in his teens, Shizuo estimated. What was a high schooler doing calling Izaya? Did he need information too?

“Go home, kid.” Shizuo hung up before the other line could even get another word in. Hopefully this kid would understand that being involved with Izaya was dangerous. There must be safer ways to gather information than seeking help from an (crazy, he might add) informant.

“Who is it?” Shinra peered over.

“Fuck if I know,” Shizuo shrugged in response. He couldn’t access the phone to look at the caller’s contact information – the screen appeared to be locked with a four digit passcode. Now it wasn’t like he cared, but if Izaya had broken into his phone, it was only fair Shizuo gets to do the same, right? Plus, there could be information regarding Koyuki in this very device he held in his palm. “Oi. What’s his passcode?”

“Ah, even if he considers me as his friend, I wouldn’t know about this stuff. Orihara-kun is a very private person, but let me try.”

Shizuo passed the phone to Shinra. The passcode was wrong. However, the set of numbers Shinra keyed in seemed familiar. It took longer then necessary for him to recognize why. “Hey, that’s my birthdate–!”

“What a shame. I thought for sure this would work!”

“Why would it work, aah?!”

#shizaya #heiwajima shizuo #orihara izaya #w #theswitch

3 notes · View notes

bowsie22 · 5 years

Text

Malex Collection 5

Summary: Isobel and Max reveal something that may destroy their relationship with Michael.

Remember when I said I was gonna write fluff? Surprise! I didn’t. More angst!

It had been a tough few months. Michael and Isobel had worked tirelessly to unlock their powers, but they succeeded, and Max was revived. After giving him a week to recover, Liz decided to throw a party at the Crashdown. She organised everything, inviting the Alien Crew as they called themselves now. And looking over her friends, Liz was happy for the first time since high school. She and Max were in a good place, Maria and Michael had realised they were better off as friends and both seemed happier for it. And Rosa was getting used to being the youngest all of a sudden. Although there were some people missing. She tapped her sister on the shoulder, knowing the woman had gotten close to the two missing men.

“Where are Kyle and Alex? Party started thirty minutes ago.”

“I know, right? It’s not like Alex to be late. I’ll message them, see where they are. Maybe you should check on Isobel? She looks weird over there.”

Isobel had shown up ten minutes ago and sequestered herself in a corner booth, not making eye contact with anyone. Liz approached carefully. The woman had clearly been crying and was drinking a bottle of nail polish remover, a second one open in front of her. Sitting across from her, Liz could see that she was trembling.

“Isobel, are you ok?”

“I did something. That Max will probably kill me for me. And Michael will hate me for.”

“Please, Michael could never hate you.”

Liz gasped as Isobel looked up from the table. There was so much emotion in her eyes, anger, guilt, sadness. What the hell had happened. Before she could ask, the door to the café slammed open. Kyle stood at the door, glaring at Michael.

“Did you know?”

“What?”

Kyle growled, grabbing Michael’s denim shirt and shoving against the counter.

“Don’t bullshit me Guerin! Did you know? About Alex?”

“What about him? Is he alright?”

“He didn’t know.”

Isobel drew the attention to herself. She stood from the booth, pushing Kyle away from Michael.

“He doesn’t know.”

“What don’t I know?”

“We wanted to protect you.”

And now Max was involved. Liz sent a confused look to Maria, who seemed as lost as she was. The only people not confused were Kyle, Max and Isobel. Kyle looked like he was going to kill someone, Max looked tired and Isobel, God, she looked heartbroken. Michael glared at his siblings, wondering what he needed to cover up now.

“Someone tell me what the hell is going on? What has this got to do with Alex?”

Kyle laughed, a bitter, hateful sound.

“Go on Isobel, tell him. Tell him that you are the reason the love of his life abandoned him to go fight in a active war zone! That you and your brother are the reason why Alex has a fake leg to go with that trauma and PTSD! That because of you, Alex can’t sleep through the night because he has nightmares after watching men he considered friends and brothers die in front of him. Tell him!”

Isobel was sobbing now, arms wrapped around her waist. Max stood behind the counter, staring out the window with tears dripping down his face. Both seemed lost in their memories.

“What is he talking about?”

Michael’s cracked voice pulled the twins from wherever they were. If Isobel and Max looked upset, Michael looked broken. He was crying silently, tears on his cheeks, shoulders heaving. But it was eyes. The look of betrayal and heartbreak in his eyes broke Isobel. She rushed forward, reaching out to Michael’s healed hand. He pulled away, clenching and unclenching the hand, gritting his teeth at the lack of pain.

“What did you do?”

“Michael, we wanted to help, we wanted to keep you safe.”

“WHAT DID YOU DO?!”

“You had a nightmare.”

Max looked up from the counter, wanting Michael to understand that they did it for him.

“About your hand. Isobel saw Jesse Manes break it. We thought that Alex was bad for you. We wanted to protect you.”

“So, you sent him away?”

“Max asked me to do three things. One was to increase his fear of his father, so Alex would do anything he told him to. I bought the idea of joining the Air Force to the front of his mind and gave him a nudge to follow through.”

“And the third?”

Both twins looked down, neither able to meet Michael’s furious eyes.

“The third!”

“I had her tone down his feelings for you, make it easier for him to leave you.”

Michael sobbed, the sound ripping painfully from his chest. He gripped the counter top, bending over as his breath became shorter.

“Isobel wasn’t supposed to tell him!”

“Don’t you dare put this on me Max, don’t you dare! This was a choice we made together.”

“It wasn’t your choice to make! Did you actually think I’d be alright with this? That I’d fall out of love with him and thank you for what you did?”

Kyle reached out, grabbing Michael and helping him straighten up.

“I get that you’re furious. But Isobel, in some idiotic way to clear everything and make it all right, went to the cabin and told Alex. And then she undid everything. He needs you right now. Leave us here. You can deal with these two when you’re a bit calmer.”

Kyle was right. Michael looked at his friends, glad to see that they all look horrified. Maria was sobbing into Rosa’s shoulder, remembering the horror stories Alex had told her, Liz looked furious as Rosa held her back and Kyle just looked tired. And sad that his friend went through everything he did for no reasons.

“You’re right. I need to go to Alex.”

“Give me your keys, you’re in no condition to drive.”

Walking out of the restaurant, Michael placed a block on his bond with Isobel and Max, taking some joy in their pained grunts as he slammed it down. They had no right to his emotions and feelings, not anymore.

Kyle left him at the cabin. A long hug, some encouraging words and he was gone. Taking a deep breath, Michael opened the door, freezing at the sight in front of him. Alex sat against a wall; legs pulled to his chest. Michael knew that couldn’t be comfortable with the prosthetic. The living room was destroyed, as was the kitchen and the tony bot of the bedroom he could see. Things had been ripped from walls, thrown to the ground, turned over. But Michael concentrated on Alex. The other man was ignoring him. Or hadn’t noticed him. He was staring at his dog tags in his hands, face blank, dried tears on his cheeks, eyes red and puffy. Michael crouched in front of him, resting a gentle hand, his healed one, he noted absently, on the dog tags.

“Alex?”

Alex broke out of his trance. He gripped Michael’s hand, the dog tags digging into their palms. Looking up, his face crumpled, and Alex started sobbing.

“No, no, darlin’ no.”

Michael moved to sit beside him, pulling Alex into his chest and wrapping his arms around him. all Michael had ever wanted to do was keep Alex safe, and he couldn’t even do that. But he could be there for Alex, help him through this. Right now, what else could he do?

Alex stopped crying after twenty minutes. Michael helped him to his feet and they slowly made their way to the kitchen. Alex sat at the table and pulled off his prosthetic, watching Michael as the other man made them tea that Maria left to help Alex with his panic attacks. He handed the cup to Alex, sitting beside him at the table, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. There was silence as both men drank, wondering where to go from here. Eventually, Alex spoke up.

“I keep thinking what if, you know! What is Isobel never got to me? Would I have followed you to college, cut my father out of my life? Would I be in an office now? Have both legs?”

He glanced at Michael from the corner of his eyes, sad smile on his face.

“Would we be in a better place now? But I guess we’ll never know, will we?”

He laughed sadly, finishing his tea. Michael looked at him, knowing what he had to say, just not sure how to say it. He put his cup on the table, reaching out to clasp Alex’s hands in his own.

“We are not a what if. We, just, we are, ok? I love you. I’ve loved you since I was seventeen and that didn’t change when you went to war and barely contacted me, when you came back and kept pulling away and it sure as hell isn’t going to change now I know my siblings fucked with your mind.”

“She, she made me love you less. How could she do that to us?”

Michael pulled Alex close, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

“I don’t know. I didn’t stay long enough for an explanation.”

“I get it. They wanted to protect you. I want to keep you safe as well. But I don’t know if I can ever forgive them for this.”

“Me neither.”

Alex pulled away, looking into Michael’s eyes, searching for something.

“You’re serious.”

“They took the love of my life and ripped you away from me. Ten years spent wondering if you were alive or if you were ok. And now I find out it’s because of my siblings who I sacrificed my entire future for? No. Just no.”

Alex stood, moving in front of Michael. He cupped the other’s face in his hands, wiping the tears off his cheeks.

“I never realised how much I love you. I can’t explain it Michael. It’s..it’s –“

“Cosmic? Like a supernova bursting inside you? It feels uncontainable, like it’s pouring from every molecule. And if you don’t let it out in some way, it’ll destroy you. It’s terrifying. But it’s also the most amazing thing you’ve ever felt in your life.”

As he spoke, Michael stood, wrapping his arms around Alex’s waist, holding him close.

“Yeah, that’s it exactly.”

“I’ve felt that way for ten years. I love you Alex. I always have and I probably always will. I know it’s not gonna be easy with my family and your family and aliens and everything, but I wanna try. A real proper try, an adult relationship. With proper communication. What do you say?”

Alex smiled at Michael, happy for the first time in a long while.

“Of course that’s what I want. And I know it’ll be difficult, but you’re worth that Michael, you’re worth the work and the effort. And I am more than prepared to spend my life proving that to you. I love you.”

They stood in the ruins of Alex’s house, sharing soft kisses and plans for the future. They knew that they still had to deal with Max and Isobel. They knew that they still had a lot to discuss. But for now, knowing that they loved each other and would be there for each other was enough. Their love was cosmic. And most importantly, it was theirs.

A/N I swear to God, my next one will be fluff, I am finishing that AU if it kills me.

#malex #malex collection

28 notes · View notes

swimperialentanglements · 5 years

Text

CHAPTER 2 – The arrival in Chibias: Harris saves Mara’s life

Trooper Harris

Within the expected time, the ship left the hyperspace. Harris was seating on the pilot´s seat and waited for the clearance to land on Chibias port #4922B. It took some three minutes to be cleared. He moved down the atmosphere and landed it exactly where the air command had ordered. "Now the fun begins, Mara", he stood up and grabbed the backpack which he had already prepared. He hit the button on next to the door and walked out, examining the surrounding before Mara did. There was no one in the space port and he found it odd. He scanned the area looking for some danger in vain - he felt that as part of his mission, he should protect her. "Come", he said to Mara as if he had control over her.

Mara Jade

She threw her backpack over her shoulder and walked out the ship. She focused her senses in the Force, trying to perceive any anomaly around them, it was in fact odd that the place felt so empty. She stepped ahead and looked around, the place looked dirty, almost abandoned, but this place wasn't exactly famous for being nice or tidy, except of course for the palace and the rest of the places the powerful and rich would go around and live in. She hated that world, so vane and artificial. "We should stay alert, this people are not precisely predictable, and they don't like strangers" she said to Harris, taking the lead and heading to the streets.

Trooper Harris

Harris nodded. He followed her in silence, paying attention to every detail and by stander in their path -. He was slightly tense as the space port was unusually empty, even for a small world.

After some 200 metres, when they were about to leave the space port through a narrow corridor, the blast door hissed and slammed ahead of Mara before. There was something odd as he saw a couple of reptiles running from one side to the other.

Everything happened in a fraction of second. Harris listened to a couple of clicking sounds coming from behind them - Harris could recognize two blasters being armed anywhere in the galaxy. Suddenly, he realized that they were the targets. Without thinking and acting by his own instincts, without any force influence, he threw onto Mara, protectively, his chest covering her body. Four bolts of laser flew over them. His heart raced; Harris rolled out of her, laid on his back, took his own blaster from holder inside his jacket and shoot at the first Twil'ek, hitting his head. In the next second, he was shooting at the second seal-like species, an Aqualish.

Harris was unprotected as the creature shoot at him repeatedly. All he could do was to roll to the sides in a couple of times. After the creature missed him six times, Harris finally shot the alien in the head.

Mara Jade

She thought of an ambush set in place given the odd silence, but she trusted her senses in the Force to alert her. Then it happened, with no warning, Twi’leks came appeared and begun to shoot their blasters. She felt her body pushed down to the ground as Harris protected her from the fire. She saw him pull his blaster and roll away firing back at their attackers. She immediately went on her feet but she couldn't anticipate their enemies intention, it all made sense. She took and activated her lightsaber, the magenta blade ready to block the fire, but despite being on the ground Harris managed to shoot the las one down. She kept looking for more, but all she saw was the reason she couldn't sense any of her surroundings through the force, the Ysalamir. She walked up to Harris and extended her hand to help him on his feet. She was embarrassed, and angry, she trusted to much her force senses, she should have anticipated the chance of Ysalamir in the place, especially if the criminal organization wanted to keep force sensitive authorities, weather the Jedi or the Sith lords at bay.

"Are you alright?" She asked Harris, a shadow of concern and guilt tinted her voice as her eyes examined his body for wounds. "I'm sorry, I didn't see this one coming so quickly" she admitted to her companion.

Trooper Harris

Harris took a deep breath - he had no idea of how to use the force, although it had helped him a couple of times. Their mission had hardly begun, and they had been unveiled. At least, he had scored with the Emperor's Hand and that was not irrelevant. He stared at Mara who was visibly uneasy with the situation. When asked whether he was alright, he held her hand.

"You look great from under", he joked in the hope she would smile back. He felt her strong arm helping him to stand. "Do not be sorry. I am glad you did not kill me earlier after all.", he paused. "We can’t go to the hotel that was booked for us. Someone knows we are here...", he stood next to Mara and whispered close to her head. "A traitor within the Empire, no big news", he used a data pad to check a new place for them to stay.

Mara Jade

"I have the proverbial bad feeling about this" she said, picking up her backpack from the ground and walking up to Harris "Forget about it, I've been here before, I know of a place" she added gesturing with her head for him to follow. It was about 40 minutes standard time for walked before they reached the less charming corner of the city. It was the zone where most of the people who didn't have much would end up living, but it was safe, most of them where only native families struggling to survive in contrast of the opulence of the main city.

"Thanks, for saving my life back there" she started talking while they walked. "I shouldn't favor my sense in the Force over my physical awareness" she confessed, still scolding herself for failure, a habit she had developed from an early age under the Emperor's training.

Trooper Harris

Harris also had a bad feeling about that. He had no idea about the effects of those reptiles on Mara Jade. Were they placed there on purpose? Harris just attached his data pad back in the backward and started walking behind her. As they walked, he wondered whether they would be disguised properly - after all, both were good looking and Mara was always a girl to be looked at. "You are welcome, Mara. It is my pleasure to be useful to the Hand", Harris replied, unwilling to mock or make a joke again - that situation had somehow impacted on her. Soon was he walking next to her.

As Mara spoke about the force, he didn't understand it quite right. Was it something related to the old Jedi religion? For a second, he wanted to make a question, but he remained quiet. "Perhaps we should abort the mission, Mara. Who could possibly know about us coming? What if they are working for the Black Sun? What if they spring a trap tomorrow for you in the Concert Hall?", he asked truly concerned about her wellbeing.

Mara Jade

She had to keep herself from walking faster while considering the trooper's option. Someone knew they were there, and someone wanted them dead, those were the facts. But backing up from a mission was not something she could think of doing. If anything, the more dangerous it turned, the more it spiked her interest. Or perhaps she was being reckless. It wouldn't have mattered if she had been on her own, but she had Harris with him, and for some strange reason she felt responsible for his safety, maybe she liked him enough to care. She shook her thoughts away, she had no time to be emotional, she had to focus, forget about the Force and rely only on her own strength and skills. She stopped for a moment and turned to Harris. "I think I may have underestimated the situation, maybe you should go back and bring back reinforcements, but I'm going to stay", she finished.

Trooper Harris

"Go back without you? No way!", Harris replied immediately. Whether she could understand him or not, he equally felt responsible for the girl. He did not want to give the wrong impression for her. "Moreover, I am worth one battalion of stormtroopers", he friendly punched her right shoulder. He held her shoulder. "We are going together to the Hell's Gate. Are we far?"

Mara Jade

The redhead sighed but smiled. "We're almost there, this way", Mara answered, starting to walk again.

#SWRP #MaraandHarris #MaraJade #chibias #twi'lek #ysalamir #blacksun #aqualish #imperialentanglements

4 notes · View notes

chaniters · 5 years

Text

It’s not you, it’s me.

______________________________________________________

Bending time itself to his will, Cyrus undertakes the final stage of his dark journey and walks into a final duel against Heartbreak.

(Post-Retribution AU, chapter 8)

______________________________________________________

The cop walked slowly, towards the strange lights ahead.

Now he was definitely getting a bad feeling about this.

He took his radio just in case… and then walked forward to assess the threat.

A gas cloud seemed to emanate from the center of the street along with focused lighting bolts lasting for seconds at a time. People were trying to close down their shops. Insurance against superpowered activity was a tricky business. No one could afford it. Depending on what was going on, they all knew they could end up unemployed and lose everything.

“Everyone get out of here! Move AWAY from the light” he called. A few did as he said. Some ignored him.

He turned his radio on and asked for reinforcements.

And then he moved forward. Slowly, watching each step, with his gun drawn. Of course, he had no clue about what to shoot, but it seemed the right thing to do.

A bright blast of light blinded him, and suddenly he saw it. A humanoid figure seemed to be standing in the mist.

“Hey, you! Police! Hands in the air!” he tried to sound convincing.

It looked like a thin man in his 30’s. There was something wrong with him.

Wrong may be an understatement. He was wearing a medical gown, with a few medical tubes still attached to his left arm. His right hand was smeared in blood up to the elbow, and his face…

He looked consumed and malnourished. Probably an addict. An addict with a boost. Great.

The man raised his gaze to him, opening his eyes. He could swear they had a light of their own, shining bright green.

“Hey, are you listening to me? Hands in the air freak!”

“What day is it?” he asked with total disregard for his question.

“For the last time hands in the…” and the gun slipped from his hands. Why was he so clumsy?

His gaze returned to the figure. It wasn’t there anymore. The cloud was dissipating and he had banished as well.

“You are all so fucking loud…” He said from his left.

His vision blurred. He had never felt a headache so bad.

“What day is it?” He asked again, exasperated.

He answered.

“I can’t… I can’t fight him with all this noise… shut up” he said looking straight at him.

"W... What do you.. mean?” He could barely speak. It hurt so much...

“Can’t you understand? You need to fucking shut… up!”

All of them. Watching. Judging. THeir minds to loud. Their opinions alien and unwanted.

You have no shields now. You can’t even try to raise them anymore.

You’re too strong to contain yourself.

Any thought they have is indistinguishable from your own. So painful. You can’t defeat Heartbreak with so much noise.

Miserable things. Vermin. They should move out of your way. They should shut up their pathetic little brains.

"SHUT UP!" you scream.

Immediately, the policeman before you start clawing at his own eyes. Cars collide with each other.

You look up onto the buildings.

Every window opens, and the people inside climb up...

And they start jumping down.

You walk the middle of the street, as they fall to their deaths from both sides, splattering over the pavement. Not all of them die. You have the people on the street start fighting each other. It’s a macabre spectacle, but you’re not even watching.

You'll silence them yourself. You need to Focus, you need to be ready.

You walk slowly. You know you're a mess, with the medical tubes still attached even.

You killed Regina after she was done with you. Along with all of the scientists. You think you might have killed some regenes as well. Inconsequential. You are in a different timeline now, and theirs will be erased.

None of it matters. You'll achieve your goal.

You keep walking onwards, silencing every human that gets in the way.

You'll get to the right spot even if it takes the whole day. Leaving a long trail of corpses in your wake. Your powers have increased beyond your wildest nightmares. Heartbreak will pay for what he did to you.

You will take back the life he stole.

……………………………………………………..

You walk up the stairs, holding the railing with both hands.

You’re exhausted, dizzy, and more than likely dehydrated. Someone walks up to you.

“Woah! Are you alright sir? You don’t look… g… gah… “ he gurgles on saliva and falls into convulsions holding his throat as you cut his breathing outright.

You take advantage of the open door and enter his apartment. Walking up to the bathroom, drinking water using your hand as a cup.

So refreshing.

You close your eyes, focusing. Humans across the building are quickly extinguished in a matter of minutes. You are getting even faster at it. But there’s still so many of them.

You need silence in order to be at your strongest. To destroy Heartbreak.

Expanding your reach, you cleanse the adjacent buildings, one at a time. And then the whole block… and beyond that...

Silence at last.

The figure in the bathroom mirror doesn’t seem familiar at all. It looks pale, frail and consumed. And the eyes… your green eyes have never been so bright.

Mirrors were never on your side, you think, as you walk back to the stairs, to continue up to the fourth floor. That’s where he was last time.

The room matches your designation number. You always wondered about that. Did he come here for you specifically?

It takes an eternity to climb up. Your body feels so weak. You’ve never used your powers for so long. And you’ve never been on the field with so many drugs on.

406… 408…

You prepare yourself for the battle of your life. Right now, you’re about to take back the reins of your own life. You will kill him… and then everything will correct itself. All your suffering… erased.

410… 412.

You stop by the door. Almost with reverence.

You cannot feel his presence on the other side. He must be concealing it. The handle offers no resistance. Just like back then. The door slides open.

You enter the room, your senses focused to the max. You managed to shoot him last time, so you know he’s not all-powerful.

You know you’re strong enough to rip him apart right now.

But the apartment is empty. You’re the only one there.

………………………………………………………..

You phase nervously.

Having a breakdown. Hyperventilating. You threw up in the other room earlier.

Regina’s chemicals are going through your veins. Making everything so confusing. But they give you the strength you need. You just wish you could understand what went wrong right now.

Why? Why isn’t he here? You did EVERYTHING right.

It is the right date, you saw it in the newspapers. It’s the exact same building and the right spot.

And still, he didn’t come. Is he avoiding you.? How did he know you were coming?

Maybe he was with the farm after all. Or maybe another government program? Maybe an agent from another country.

The scientists swore he didn’t come from the farm. The body was never recovered.

You mind catches up on a strange field on the street below. A Mental dampener, approaching the ground floor. They are coming for you.

“FUCK!” you scream in frustration. “You think you’re so smart, huh?” you speak at the walls, venting your anger. Your mental field is so strong right now that the dampener is nothing. You will break them.

You follow them as they come inside. The field makes their thoughts a blur. But you don’t need to understand it.

They start climbing the stairs.

Two of them stay back… where the Field is weaker. You’ll deal with them first.

Sending your thoughts towards the one in the back, you find his mind oddly familiar… but you have to destroy him before he turns on you. His weakness is clear… he hates himself. Maybe that’s what’s so familiar. You just need to amplify those thoughts and…

The man in the raincoat materializes in front of you without warning, and the swift electrical discharge on your chest sends you stumbling several feet backward.

“I won’t let you do this,” He says.

“Who …” You squint your gaze. The raincoat is covering it, but you can see it now. It’s the Hourglass armor. “Fucking Mortum. That thing has no batteries! How in the hell did you follow me?”

“I’m not Mortum. And my batteries are included” He disappears from view, then reappears behind you, pinning you against a wall.

You know that tacky catchphrase. “Ortega!?”

“The same one. Here to finish that little conversation we were having earlier at your airship. It burned down, by the way. You killed so many people...”

“It doesn’t matter!” You send your thoughts into his mind, weakening him. His brain is different, but he’s not beyond your reach now.

“HNg.. “ he stumbles back, letting go. He’s slippery. It’s hard to hold him in place.

“I’m going to stop Heartbreak and everything will be fixed! WHY DO YOU HAVE TO FIGHT ME ON THIS TOO?”

He’s in pain… but he still starts laughing. Laughing at you.

“What’s so fucking funny?”

“You don’t get it, do you?”

You don’t answer but increase the pressure instead. He breathes rapidly, falling on his knees.

“I’ll take that as a no. Cyrus… Hnr… I hate to bring you bad news, but you won’t be able to defeat Heartbreak” There is sweat all over his face now. He’s trying to resist. It’s quite impressive.

“And why the hell not?” You say kneeling up to his level.

“Because, you, my friend… Hng…

You are Heartbreak”

“W... What?” You ask as you make him tremble in agony, stimulating his pain centers. Is this some sort of last gambit of his?

“You can’t be so blind!” he says gesturing to the window. “You can see the destruction you caused on your way here! You killed everyone!”

“That’s not…”

“You’ve done everything he did. Even the timing is correct. The Rangers are going to come here any second, and you’re going to break the team apart. There are no two ways around it. You are Heartbreak!”

The ominous thought spreads through your mind like an ink stain you can’t cleanse. You scream in frustration.

If you are Heartbreak… then it means the one who caused all your misery was...

“NO! I DID NOT DO THESE THINGS TO MYSELF! HE DID!” you shout at him

“Cyrus, you can see it’s true!”

“SHUT UP!” You yell “Can’t .. think… I can’t…

“Cyrus…”

“SILENCE!” you yell, making him squirm in pain. He better stay down. You have to stop them. You need time. Time to find a way to fix this mess.

You renew your attack on the invaders. The dampener begins cracking under the pressure of your thoughts. IT doesn’t hold. You start pressing into their minds, crushing them. It won’t be long before they are extinguished… you just need a little longer to...

The door slides open and Sidestep steps in, gun first walking straight towards you.

You look at him in a moment of absolute disbelief.

Without a word, he shoots.

You fall down, shaking from the electrical impact.

He looks down on you, studying you. That breaks the laser point focus that let him avoid your attack.

And you take advantage of it, invading his mind in that instant. This can’t be you. He is naive. Malleable. Foolish. He is weak. Feeble. You despise him

You dig deeper… you try to find the deception. Something that makes this not be true. But what you find horrifies you.

Ortega is right. This is you. The realization shatters what’s left of your rational mind.

Everything was a lie. Your supposed destiny. Your fate was inevitable, but not in the way you expected. You’re just here to close a loop and let it repeat once more. You’ll hurt him. Ruin him. And then he’ll become you.

No. No that’s not what’s going to happen.

There is only one thought left. Putting an end to it all. Spare him all the suffering of what’s to come. Your hold in his mind is firm. Both of you take the gun and point it at his/your face.

He starts crying. He doesn’t want to die. Not like this. You have no sympathy for his weakness.

“It will all be over soon,” you say comforting him. He tries to point the gun away.

You make him hold it firmly, and taste the metal in his mouth.

A familiar sensation for you. A new terror for him. You savor the moment... and then...

You both reach for the trigger…

“SIDESTEP NO!”

Deja vu. A second Ortega wearing his Ranger suit enters the room, taking the gun from You/Sidestep. He stops you from shooting. You howl in frustration.

But he can’t stop you. You force him to evade him he calls himself Sidestep, he better be able to do it. The window is open. Jump… Jump and then...

At the edge of your vision, you see how the older Ortega presses a button in the Hourglass armor and disappears. The Hourglass. It can stop time for a whole minute.

“I can’t let you do this again!” he says, materializing in front of you, his hands holding a firm grip over you.

You realize what he’s about to do.

“LET… ME… GO!” you attempt to attack his mind once more...

“ I’m sorry old friend!” he says ignoring the pain. You forgot how strong he is.

Almost effortlessly, he lifts you, and drives you through the window, before blocking Sidestep’s attempt to follow you.

Falling.

You are falling.

This isn’t another nightmare. This is real.

You’re falling down once more.

You can’t die… until you set things right.. Until you…

But the pavement doesn’t wait for you to finish that thought.

____________________________

My fanfics: https://chaniters.tumblr.com/post/181692759294/my-fanfiction-for-fallen-hero

DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fan fiction using characters and the setting of the Fallen Hero: Rebirth and upcoming Fallen Hero: Retribution games written by Malin Riden. I do not claim ownership of any characters from the Fallen Hero wold. These stories are a work of my imagination, and I do not ascribe them to the official story canon. These works are intended for entertainment outside the official storyline owned by the author. I am not profiting financially from the creation of these stories, and thank the author for her wonderful game/s, without which these works would not exist.

#fallen hero: rebirth #fallen hero spoilers #Au Post-Retribution #fanfiction #Heartbreak

19 notes · View notes

aroworlds · 6 years

Text

I want to thank people for not making “you don’t have to be so angry” or “they were only trying to help” comments on my rant post or in my inbox today--which I often get whenever I dare to let my emotions have free-rein in my words.

I do believe that communications that are less emotional (by which I mean emotions that make others uncomfortable, like anger, distress or offense) and more constructive and empathetic in tone make for more effective activism. I am less likely to misstep or misphrase in my anger, I can make my point more clearly, and my audience is more like to both understand and accept my post. Anger makes it difficult to convince, and this blog is about communication and interaction. My goal isn’t to show off my anger at the world; it’s to enable and support change. I am not the kind of person who can turn anger into a daily-wielded weapon without hurting myself at the same time, but I also think that it doesn’t help me best achieve my goals as a blogger, activist or writer.

(I am not speaking for anyone else’s activism here, just my own.)

Because of that, though, people tend to react as though my anger is irrational or undeserved when I do allow it to emerge. The rare times I’ve been angry at someone on my other blogs have always resulted in consequent anon hate, people telling me I had no right to feel what I did. Words like overreact tend to be used: people telling me I have no right to have even a few moments, here and there, where my feelings overwhelm the rest of my activism.

As an undiagnosed autistic kid, I learnt long ago that overreact should be applied to everything I feel and experience--that there is nothing acceptable about my reactions. That everything I do, feel, think and communicate is too much, too absurd, too inappropriate, too unnecessary, too ridiculous.

I make snarky comments to friends, sometimes, about how blogging is no different from retail, but it isn’t: the only difference is that I have more ability to stop, to edit, to think, to regroup. (That and written English is far more natural a language to me than spoken English.) I am still expected to be calm, pleasing, patient, non-confrontational. I am still expected to hide my feelings and frustrations lest I annoy or alienate people, and I still work with the constant terror that if I do or say the wrong thing, I will lose people who support me in my writing and activism the same way I lost my retail job. Ironic, in that we autistics and a-specs are levelled with the charge robot, always dismissively, but my failure to be an ever-cheerful automaton doing everything everyone else wants has caused me so many professional and interpersonal problems.

Don’t be a robot, stiff and loveless and disconnected from the world, but be a robot in how I perform allism to a degree even allistics need not bother with, denying me all right to any emotion that isn’t allistic-approved service-with-a-smile. I get it as much online as off; the only difference is that, online, I can employ the block button and refuse to engage.

I’m rarely afforded the consideration that, if I am daring to be angry in spaces where I seldom rant, I have reason to be furious.

Today, I wanted to be angry. Most of the time, when I’m upset or angry I don’t want to post; I just don’t have the executive function to save the post to draft and back away. After, I’m upset and regretful about my preemptive posting, because I didn’t do the subject or my followers justice. Today, I didn’t want that. I want the world to understand that if you make that argument on my blog, I am going to come in and slice you into a thousand metaphorical pieces because there is nothing polite or reasonable about its positing.

Anger isn’t usually a weapon for me, but today it has to be.

For the last few years, most a-spec and inclusionist-related blogs have had some interfering person, usually allistic and allo (never both autistic and a-spec) pipe up with the “but a-spec is an autistic term! The autistic community says appropriation!” comment. This is something that has been rejected, criticised and disproved hundreds of times by a-spec autistics. This is something that has no widespread evidence in the #actuallyautistic community--but how we autistics talk about ourselves is of no interest to allistics patting themselves on their back for their activism. We autistics, especially a-spec autistics, aren’t real people with our own community, language terms and culture; we’re just a convenient tool to be trotted out to win at discourse.

Because it sounds like social justice, this idea doesn’t stay within exclusionist spaces, the same way well-meaning people insist a-spec headcanons of autistic characters is “dehumanisation”.

It means we can’t escape this pervasive attitude.

It means we’re constantly having to fight it just to talk about our own communities.

To take language like “a-spec” away from the a-spec community is an abhorrent act of erasure. To use autistics as pawns in this act is ableism, not only because we are not heard or acknowledged by allistics at any other time but also because they are denying the language and culture we autistics already have. A language and culture that does not commonly use a-spec as an identifying term. A language and culture that is all about saying to the world that autistic is not a bad thing to be and we are not afraid to use the word “autistic” to describe ourselves.

(Do you know that I’ve had one medical professional use the word “autistic” to me? One. Everyone else uses “on the spectrum” or “ASD” to me, even though I’ve never used either while discussing myself. A-spec doesn’t sound autistic. It sounds allistic--another desperate way to keep from saying the word!)

We autistic a-specs are subjected to people not both autistic and a-spec speaking at us, over us, about us and for us. We’re subjected to condescension and dismissal. We’re subjected to the pain of having to explain ourselves, over and over, while our explanations go dismissed. We’re subjected to comments of the “but they’re just trying to help!” or “they don’t know!” sort from our allies when we do get angry or frustrated. We are forced to have to explain and justify our own language, our own culture, our own right to use our own community and identity terms--our own right to exist.

Calmly refuting this a-spec antagonistic ableism hasn’t stopped it.

I do genuinely appreciate this time, though, the absence of anon hate messages--it’s a rare thing that I am allowed to be angry about anything without negative consequence, without people seeking to silence me with hate or dismissal. Without people reinforcing the message that my real feelings should never be displayed for other people to see. Without reading or hearing that dreaded word overreaction.

Thank you, my followers, for allowing me today to be angry.

49 notes · View notes

karterh-blog · 5 years

Text

Levi 1

Levi

This is stupid.

What am I doing?

Nothing odd.

Just a tall teen, buying packaged cookies.

And that’s it.

Watching that movie was a bad idea. Why did I let Nic talk me into watching it? They were so persistent. The movie was good. It made me feel less alien. The worst part was the partial I got from the watching the kiss at the end. I had to hide it behind my letterman’s jacket when we left the theater.

Maybe it’s a good thing. No other on-screen romance has gotten that much of a rise out of me. Fuck. Even my thoughts are getting corny.

“Young man register 15 is available,” the yellow-vested Walmart employee startled me out of my inner turmoil. I looked up at her, she looked tired, unkempt, as my mother would say. She gave me an impatient nod to herd me along to the self-checkout kiosk.

I quickly scanned my purchase and selected the pay option. Fumbling with my wallet I tried to rush the machine into taking my five-dollar bill. The stubborn thing spat it back at me. Infuriatingly, I snatched it back, worked out a barely bent corner and forced the note back into the payment slot. This argument went on for a few more rounds. I felt the stares of the moms waiting in the line. Believe me ladies, I want to get out of here as much as you do. After a fifth attempt it finally accepts my payment and spits my change and receipt at me. I shove it into my jeans pocket, grab my purchase and head for the doors.

“I need to see your receipt, young man,” drawls the exasperated looking man at the greeter post.

I attempt to extract it from my pocket without showering my feet with pennies and dimes. I failed.

“It’s a new policy.”

“It’s fine,” I say and as I hand him the small slip, I see that my hands are shaking.

My hands don’t shake. I scored the winning net in or hockey game against Gillette Saturday night. They’re our biggest competition this season, not to mention our biggest rival. “What is wrong with me.”

“Thank you, have a nice night,” he utters in monotone. he so doesn’t care.

I’m in the clear. Not even close, Pearson.

I make it to the second set of doors and forget how hard it’s snowing. I hate driving around town in snow. I’m not a terrible driver for a 17-year-old. I get carried away after a big win on the ice or a movie with good chase scenes, but generally I keep it in my pants. But other people act like they haven’t lived here for decades and either slide through the intersections or drive half the speed limit.

Crap, am I really doing this?

At the beginning of Christmas break Nic begged me to go see a movie about some gay kid. It didn’t play here in Sheridan. There is no way it would play here. It might turn us impressionable youths into the gays!! Too late. Anyway, Nic convinced my mom that she would likely get a better present if I were allowed to drive up to Billings, Montana to do my holiday shopping. Nic is basically an only child. They know how to manipulate parents. They are my best friend, but I wouldn’t say that to the guys on the team. The guys already give me a hard time for hanging out with them and some of their “freaky” friends. I just feel so comfortable around them.

Unlike now. My socks are wet from slopping to my car. Chucks are not good winter shoes. I jam the key into the door handle to unlock the car. No fancy fob for this ride. Hell, it doesn’t even have cruise control. Gotta love hand-me-downs. Now that Jess is working a job and going to school (Sheridan College, fancy) he was able to buy a better vehicle. So, I get the old Honda my parents bought used ten years ago. The hinges creak as I open the door and slouch into the driver’s seat.

After shoving my backpack into the floor, I set the package of Oreos on the passenger seat. They’re the holiday ones with the red filling. Not really like the movie said, but close.

The car squeals to life with a good forceful turn of the ignition. I should get my friend Joey to change that belt. It’s getting really bad. I carefully make my way out of the packed parking lot as my phone buzzes in my hoodie pocket. I know it’s Nic, so I don’t even look.

“Hi.”

“Hey babe?” They sound unsure. Great.

“Why do you call me that? Don’t you’ll make me more nervous?”

“Lee, it’s going to be great! I’m so excited for you. I wish I could watch from your backseat.” Nic ignored my question. Typical.

“God you’re creepy.”

“Yeah. But you love me.”

“Uhhh....” I let silence hang in the chilly air.

“Levi Pearson, you go give that boy his cookies and make his year!”

“How are you cockier than me? Do you think he’ll even get the reference? This is pretty out there.”

“I know he saw the movie, Sarah Riley showed me his secret Instagram post about seeing it and then journaling at City Brew for hours afterward!”

“How do you know it was actually his post?”

“Babe, the freaks know all the best gossip.”

“Seriously? The babe thing?”

“What about it?”

“Even your friends think we’re together!”

“That’s impossible Lee. They all know I’m a demi/panromantic asexual genderqueer!”

“Nic. No one in this county knows what that means, except for you.”

“You’re totally not my type.”

“You mean you’re not my type?”

“Right. Not everyone can be born with genitalia that you are disturbingly focused on. But you are so stoic that no one knows what your type is, other than maybe cheerleader or volleyball player. I’m the only one who sees you. Well until tonight. Then Patrick will see you. Hopefully more of you than I’ve seen.”

“Hey.” I listen to Nic’s peeling cackle for two traffic lights.

“Holy shit. Aren’t you almost there?”

“Just turning off 5th street.”

“Ok. Ok. Ok. I love you! You’ve got this!” With that she hangs up.

I shift into park and look up at the brick house. The lights in the living room shine through the curtains. A big pine tree blocks the only other window facing the street. That’s probably his parents’ room though. That’s how I remember the house when Brad Warren lived there. We used to hang out in grade school, and we’ve been on the same hockey team for two years. I’d ride my bike over here when mom and dad were both at work in the summer.

God. My thoughts are all over the place. I’m mostly just trying to not picture and also hope for the opportunity to see Patrick’s smile. I think a lot about that smile. I didn’t really notice it until he got his braces off last year. It seemed like he smiled for weeks. He was unfortunately outed by some football players in a pretty brutal manner. He hasn't smiled much since then. Nic says he’s been out to his friends for years, which makes us the only two queer guys in the 11th grade, as far as I can tell.

A shadow passes by the window and I jump. Crap. I probably look like a stalker sitting out here.

I grab my backpack off the floor and chuck a couple of textbooks out, so I can fit in the treat I have for Patrick.

The characters in the movie bond over Oreos. And I figured if I showed up and offered them to him, it could be easier than walking up to him at school and saying something dreadfully embarrassing for both of us.

Pearson. You got this.

I wrench my door open and trudge to the Williams’ front door. I can tell by the blue light that the tv is on and I can faintly hear the sounds of Wheel of Fortune. That show is banned in our house. We watch Jeopardy! and no other game shows.

The chime of the doorbell makes me jump. Breathe. In. Out. Hurried little footsteps come toward me. This must be his little brother. I’ve seen him at school functions with his parents. The knob jiggles as he attempts to open the heavy door.

“No! I got it!” The small voice protests. And lights blind me for a second as he stares up at me. I’m already six-one. He must think I’m a giant, as he stands there with his mouth open and his eye wide before squinting at me. “Who are you? Are you Thor?”

“Uhhh, Levi Pearson?” Wow Pearson intimidated by a juvenile.

“Who’s at the door, Alex?” His voice is clear and sharp and makes shiver run down my spine. And then he fills the crack in the doorway standing behind the shorter version of the same person. His bristly dark blonde curls are cropped short. And his light blue eyes look into my soul.

“Levi?”

“Uhh, hey.”

“Why are you at my house?”

“Can we talk?”

“This couldn’t wait until school in the morning?”

“Please?”

“We won’t get very far if you keep answering questions with questions.”

“Boys, shut the door! You’re letting all the heat out.” Their dad has an intimidating presence. He’s big and muscular, and always has a shadow of coal and grease on his skin.

Patrick eyes me wearily.

“Well come in.”

“Thanks.”

The front door leads straight into the living room. They must have painted when they bought the house. It looks totally different. Wow. How does anyone really think I am hetero? I choose to blame my mother and her HGTV habit.

“Can I help you?”

“Oh sorry. Ummm. Did you get Speiker’s assignment from yesterday? I didn’t have a chance to see him before we left for the game.” He glares at me. This was a stretch. We have one class together. Algebra II. I’m decent at it. I mean I’m holding steady to my A-, but I can play dumb.

He looks unconvinced.

“You have friends in that class, why ask me?”

I’ve got to bullshit fast. Mini-Patrick has grown bored of me and now that the door is shut their dad is back in a recliner studying the next word puzzle.

“Well, I was on my way home, and your place is on the way–”

“Are you stalking me?”

“What!?” I try to wipe my now sweaty shaking hands on front of my hoodie. It’s wetter than my hands. This is going great!

“How do you know where I live?” He looks nervous and skeptical.

“Oh. Uhh. Brad used to live here before you.”

“Ooookaaay.”

“Anyway. Your place was on my way home and I need to keep my B in Algebra to stay on the active hockey roster.

“Boys, quit flapping your gums or get out of the living room, you’re interrupting the puzzle,” his dad said while waving us to the kitchen or some other part of the house.

“Fine. Come with me.”

Patrick lead me into the house, cautiously monitoring my every move.

“Patrick. Tell your friend shoes stay at the door.” I was so busy watching Patrick watch me that I didn’t even notice his mom perched at the kitchen counter. She scrutinized me over the top of red-framed reading glasses like a mean librarian, if librarians wore paint splotched bibs. She likes to call herself an artist, but Mom says she’s just crafty with too much free time. I don’t really know what that means but I’ve seen her name on fundraiser auction items.

Patrick clears his throat to get my attention.

“Oh god,” I jump, “sorry.” I dig my toe into the heal of my right shoe popping it off and then do the same with the left. I pick up my sneakers and trudge them back to the front door and take a big deep breath before rejoining Patrick in the kitchen. He leads me down a set of stairs into another living area. It’s basically just an older version of the one upstairs. The couch is more worn, and the recliner looks nonfunctional, but cozy.

“Wait here” he leaves me in the comfy room and my eyes wonder to a wall covered in family photos. I resist the urge to memorize every one of them. Geez. I am a stalker. To calm my fidgeting, I perch on the arm of the couch and stare at the ceiling. I slide my backpack off my shoulders and hold it by the loop at the top.

“Do you have your book with you?” I look down and he’s standing in front of me, still glaring.

“Oh, uh, I don’t really need the homework. I got it from Nic. I just–”

“Dude. What’s going on here? Why the fuck are you at my house then?” His voice is icy and cuts through my small shred of confidence.

“Pat. Calm down.”

“It’s Patrick.”

“Sorry. Patrick.”

“Is this some sort of hazing, jock bet? Infiltrate to home of the homo?”

My stomach had been trying to climb out of my chest and these words drop it to the floor. I slump forward and look at my wet pack and socks. The zipper is partially open, and I can see the bright blue package. I don’t know what to say to him. Of course, that is what this looks like.

“I just wanted to give you something.” I reach into my bag and wrestle to cookie package free. I drop it onto the seat of the battered chair and head quickly back up the stairs. I jam my soggy feet into my shoes, shoulder my bad and leave the warm house without looking at any of the Williams family.

Back in the Civic, I see that I have missed 10 calls and 20 texts. I have one voicemail from home. I opt for that first knowing that all the other communications are from Nic. Mom says dinner is ready and mine will be cold by 7. I check the phone’s screen. It’s just after 7. I’ll make something up. It’ll be fine.

Nic texts again as I close the voicemail window.

Nic: Tell me. Tell me. Tell me.

Nic: <3 <3 <3 <3

Instead of trying to type out my humiliation, I opt for a call instead. I hold the phone with my shoulder as I make a U-turn and drive the five blocks home. It doesn’t take that long for me to spew my rejection and humiliation. I park behind Dad’s old beat up truck and rest my head on my steering wheel as Nic attempts to construct further plans. They seem way more invested in my love life than I am right now. I’m half listening to Nic and half listening to my stomach growling. Tall athletes should not miss meals. But despite its protests I don’t think I can keep anything down.

“Lee!”

“Huh?”

“Are you listening to me or wallowing?”

“Definitely wallowing,” I huff. My breath is starting to fog up my windows.

“Babe, remember when you tripped on your own stick while skating toward the undefended goal in the game against Casper?”

“Wow. As if I didn’t feel shitty enough, thanks Nic.”

“Did you give up hockey after that game?”

“No, but that’s different.”

“You’re right it’s a different kind of match between boys playing with stick.”

“Cute.”

“The cutest enby you know.”

“You’re the only enbee I know.”

“Babe, I can hear you shivering. Go inside. Can me later.”

“Sure.”

I lift my head and realize I have sat here long enough for the snow to coat it windshield. And I think my socks are starting to freeze to my shoes.

#lgbtya #writingprocess #early draft

1 note · View note

enkelimagnus · 3 years

Text

Paperwork

Bucky Barnes Gen, 1832 words, rated T for Hydra shit

Jewish Bucky Barnes, pre TFATWS, post Endgame

Bucky struggles with paperwork, and thinks about his relationship with military service.

TW: this contains mentions of the Holocaust and antisemitism

Read on AO3

Part 12 of Making a Home - the Jewish Bucky series

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

Bucky has been through a lot. He’s fought in most, if not all, wars since 1950, several of which involved aliens, has murdered hundreds of people. He has been a prisoner of war, has been tortured in every way known to man, has been experimented on, has lost everyone he loves; he has seen it all. He has been through it all.

But the absolute fucking worse of it all is probably the paperwork he has to do for the U.S. Army.

That’s a very specific brand of fucked up, and he’s this close to calling out mistreatment of the elderly on Lieutenant General Henricksen’s ass.

The desk they let him use is cramped and stuck between a wall and a copy machine. It’s constantly noisy and messy, with people coming in and out. He barely has space to sit comfortably. They all underestimate how much space he needs to be comfortable. He might not be large, like Steve used to be, but being stuck in small spaces and behind small desks make him want to run.

Besides, he’s generally terrible with paperwork.

At least that was the one advantage of being a brainwashed assassin for seventy years, he never had to do paperwork. He didn’t have enough free will to write reports. Small fucking mercies.

It would be nice if he could smoke, but that’s not allowed anymore. Which makes sense. But they’re truly making his life difficult.

He could just walk out of the base and go home, they would let him. He’s not actually a prisoner here, he just has very good incentive to stay. If he doesn’t keep on the straight and narrow path to ‘fix what he was responsible for’, he’ll be back in the Raft really quickly.

And despite his hatred for this desk, this office and this work, they’re a hundred times better than a Raft cell.

He doesn’t know exactly what it is with work and the base that put him in such a terrible mood. The people aren’t bad, per se. The actual building isn’t either, even if it will never lose its fragility in Bucky’s eyes. Perhaps he should punch one of the beams supporting the main entrance, see if it will sustain the full force of a vibranium arm and a supersoldier’s muscles.

There’s just something that happens in his mind when he’s sitting at this desk, on this uncomfortable chair emblazoned with the mark of the U.S. Army, with a slightly out of date computer in front of him and the report template open, cursor blinking stubbornly at the start of the empty line where his explanations are supposed to be written.

He suddenly finds himself calling onto every ounce of self-control he’s ever managed to train into himself so he won’t just walk away and flee the country. He just sits there, staring at the cursor, brain empty of any real thought except Get me out of here and Я готов отвечать.

He’s tried writing his report on the last mission five times now. He started in English and switched to badly transliterated Russian in the middle of it twice now. He can’t do it. He’s struggling to keep himself to only English, and that’s when he manages to vocalize what happened during the mission in a way that makes sense.

They need him to recall the specifics of what he did, in a specific amount of detail, and he struggles with that too. Half of the time, when he’s in combat, a part of him shuts off. When he comes out of it, he has the tendency to push all of it away and lock it behind a door in the back of his mind.

The paperwork, the reports, force him to open that door and analyze it further than just giving a target status update and a general maintenance report. It’s torture to him. He hates every second of it.

And then, there’s the stuff he has to sign without being allowed to read, files redacted to extremes so the only thing he can read is his name. He’s never told exact locations either, and he’s not allowed to know what they recover when they raid. His clearance level isn’t high enough.

He just stands on the sidelines until they tell him to go in, attack, and does what he’s told. When his job is done, they put the muzzle and leash back on him and make him wait in the corner.

And then they make him sign it. He hates signing stuff he can’t read. He doesn’t know what his name is being used for. He doesn’t know what’s under the black blocks. It could be horrifying acts that he is testifying to having committed. He could be tricked into confessing to something he didn’t do. And years down the line when he wants out, when his amends are made, they could keep him under their thumb by showing him those documents, by threatening to take him to justice for things he hasn’t actually done.

Fuck, he used to trust the army.

Or at least he used to believe in what they represented for the country, for the world. He used to be proud of that uniform they gave him when he was drafted. He used to be proud of the opportunity to serve, especially because he knew what was happening in Europe.

They’d known from the beginning. It had started with letters from loved ones in the shtetl, in the old country, telling them of heightened violence, of ghettoization. Accounts of the rising threat, of hiding necklaces under clothing, of putting shabbos candles in the corners of the house the farthest from windows. Accounts of cousins being harassed and assaulted.

And then, the first ones had managed to come by boat, through the tightening net of American immigration. They’d been worried, they’d told stories of how they feared for their families, of how they’d been put into boats with all the money their parents had, with the pictures and the items of value. How they’d been put into boats with the knowledge they would not come back, and that they were carrying with them the entire family’s survival.

Jews know when death is coming. That’s what his ma used to say. We’ve been through it too many times. We know in our bones. And they’d been right.

Soon, the persecution became big enough that ships came every week, filled with desperate faces and tearful eyes, seeking safety and half of the time, being turned away. The neighbor’s little cousin was supposed to come by ship and never made it. Katya cried for days.

There were bills, but none of them made it into vote, there were pleas but they were not heard. Bucky remembered hushed conversations between his ma and the neighbors, plans to send the kids to the countryside if it got worse. His mother had taken his hand one night once the girls were asleep and had told him: You’ll take care of them. We’ll send you with them. You’ll keep them safe. They’d packed suitcases, just in case.

The letters kept coming, telling stories about fear and lost jobs, violence in the street, people breaking into buildings to set fire to Jewish homes. Rabbis everywhere pleaded with the government, but the government did nothing to help. They kept the boats from coming.

And some families stopped getting letters. They all knew what that meant.

There was no official word on what was happening in Europe by then, but they all knew. They all knew silence meant death.

It took them so long to actively enter the war. Too fucking long. He had to be drafted in, he was old enough when the conscription was announced, and despite the fear that came with war, a part of him wanted to protect his people. Fighting was what he was supposed to do for his country, for his people.

Steve was mad at him for the almost casual way Bucky talked about it, especially when he himself couldn’t fight. So was his family. But he’d seen the fear and the pain, and he wanted to help. He’d been fighting all his life, mostly to get Steve out of trouble, but for himself too, and in the boxing championships. It felt… like the right step for him, despite everything. That, and the uniform looked good on him.

But he saw what war was really like. He felt it. He heard the brass making decisions that would send young soldiers to their death. He raged against it silently, because he respected the chain of command, because he believed that even if it felt unfair, it had to be right. They had to be doing this for the best strategic reason.

Eighty years of fighting and war later, he’s seen the torture and the cruelty, and the way governments will send people to die without much of a thought. He’s seen that to a lot of people, even some of the brass, the people that die are just numbers on a sheet.

The pride he used to have, the belief he kept, that’s gone. It died years ago. It survived the first months of the war, even the weapons’ facility, it survived until Steve rekindled it as Captain America, until the Howling Commandos gave him something to believe in. And then it died, with him.

And now, in 2024, he’s sitting at this fucking desk, chained to the United States Armed Forces who have never done anything for him, or for anyone. It feels like it’s never going to stop.

He’s probably stuck here forever now, with his signature on endless pieces of paper he’s not allowed to read. He doesn’t matter. He knows that. He’s a very useful Asset to the Army, and that will always be the extent of what he is to them. An Asset.

It’s bitter. He remembers the pride, and it still blooms into his chest sometimes, when someone calls him Sergeant. The way the Army functions is the most familiar thing about 2024. The Army never changes, and he hates how comforting it is to him. He hates how much comfort he takes in being someone’s soldier. Someone’s Asset.

He’ll never escape it. It’s hardwired into him. The brass knows that. Raynor knows that. SecDev knows that. He’s pretty sure the President knows that.

He guesses that’s why being here unnerves him that much. He just knows he can’t escape. That this computer, this desk, these sheets of papers, those are his hell. He just hopes that one day, he’ll have expiated his wrongdoings enough to make it out.

But he doesn’t hold his breath.

So he desperately tries to put his reluctant brain to work on another report, corrects his grammar and translates his thoughts into English, his country’s language. He’s an American, after all. At least, he’s supposed to be.

American soldiers don’t think in German or Russian.

#bucky barnes #jewish bucky barnes #fic #marvel #mine

0 notes