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sarah-dipitous · 7 months

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Hellsite Nostalgia Tour 2023 Day 258

Mamma Mia/Face the Raven

“Mamma Mia”

Plot Description: a reluctant Dean brings Mary along on a mission to rescue Sam. Crowley receives word that Lucifer has possessed the body of an aging rock star

Would I Survive the First Five Minutes??: this has to be some kind of mind trickery…there’s no way Sam’s fucking the lady from London…unless. Unless? That’s what he meant by telling her “screw you” over and over last episode. Oh. No one died

Omgggg Dean opening up to Cas about how weird it is to have Mary back, I’m losing my mind ❤️❤️❤️❤️

Ohhhh, Dean gets his guilt complex from his mom

I KNEW it! I knew this wasn’t real. I knew Sam was hallucinating that whole thing

Can she STOP seemingly killing Sam FOR FIVE MINUTES??

Love Rowena scamming this guy, making up a backstory about being a prima ballerina. She can do whatever she wants forever. Stop getting in the way of her getting that man’s bread, Crowley!!

I was gonna say I can’t believe Lucifer came all the way to Cleveland but…actually I can. That seems like a thing that would happen here. Of course he showed up as this rock star’s dead girlfriend to get him to say yes to possession

Dammit Crowley, let her have this. At the same time, Rowena, I’m sure you can find another old rich guy with limited time left in earth to scam. You are hot af, girl, let this one go. Don’t get wrapped up in Crowley’s schemes

Ah damn, she got Dean…

Oh, Ro Ro, I can’t believe you let your son drag you into this again

Oooo, just a smidge of body horror on my lunch break? Getting very um…end of chapter 349 vibes, and it’s concerning to me

Not to say spn should kill off another woman, but they’re spending a whole lot of time not shooting London lady

Aw, Mary’s adjusting. She’s figuring out modern life ❤️ and her boys are helping her

Noooooo, dammit, Lucifer’s keeping Rowena prisoner now. She spends so much time fighting for her freedom…I’m so mad this is happening to her

Legitimately crying at this scene between Sam and Mary.

God…as much as Dean tries to be like his father in many ways, he’s also JUST like his mom. I wish they’d just come together to talk it out instead of going through photos and John’s journal separately

“Face the Raven”

Plot Description: The Doctor and Clara find themselves in an alien world, hidden on a street in London

At least today I know if there’s no picture, there’s something wrong (oh good, there’s picture)

Oh shit! Is this one of the kids she’d nanny for before?? He seems too old to be, but what do I know? I’m just sayin I can’t imagine her giving any student but the girl she took to the moon the TARDIS’s phone number

Oh!! Oh wait! This is the guy from when there was an alien turning people 2D!! Ok ok that…it’s been a while since he’s been here

They only have like 6.5 hours to save Rigsy??

When you’ve read enough John Green to immediately get what Clara’s saying when she starts talking about trap streets on maps

Ooooo, is that like a maroon velvet blazer the Doctor is wearing?? Maybe not

Did he say FIFTY MINUTES LEFT?!

Not Arya is back! And she’s the one who sentenced Rigsy to death

Ok, so…the budget for this episode is very weird. First, there’s a whole huge set that is very reminiscent of a certain hidden street from [fandom redacted] where many different alien species have gathered as refugees…HOWEVER, the street lamps cause everyone to be undercover in a facade of the viewer’s own normal experiences. Sometimes there’s a glitch, and you can bypass the illusion (so we briefly see an Ood giving medical-ish attention to a cyberman), but it mostly feels like how spn makes all its monsters look like people

Clara don’t you dare. Don’t you dare try to take the death sentence from him. I mean, it’s…your plan isn’t necessarily the WORST, but it’s hella risky

Is that just subtle bi Clara confirmation? Talking about her relationship to Jane Austen and saying “god, I love her. Take that how you like”

Oof. She has GOT to stop making deals with random aliens. She nearly ripped reality apart last time she did. She opened a portal to a different dimension. Now, she’s making deals to keep this street safe in exchange for the Doctor??

I’m not okay with this goodbye between Clara and the Doctor. I’m very distraught. I’m gonna miss them together.

There’s something extra cruel about making the Doctor watch his best friend die right in front of his eyes

Oh of COURSE it’s a “to be continued…” ending. You know…at least I SORT OF got what I wanted. One self contained episode, and now not a two parter. This seems to be a THREE parter

#hellsite nostalgia tour 2023

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another-cancer · 3 years

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Chapter Eight: What's a period?

First Previous Next

Masterlist ao3

Summary:

Trouble is brewing back at the order as Marinette learns some awkward information in Gotham.

Notes:

Back from hiatus!

Welcome back friends, with a revised outline I can finally confirm the story to be sixteen chapters! This story has grown a lot from the original Maribat march outline that started it all. Thanks for joining me as we continue this journey.

Updates will be back to the regularly scheduled Tuesdays.

This can also be found on AO3 @another_cancer and Wattpad @another_cAnCeR

Enjoy!

///

Stealing was almost second nature to Marinette. After leaving the order, burglary became her way to survive. With her skill set, it was easy. After all, all, once you kill people to survive there isn’t much that is considered challenging within the realm of crime. It was an outlet for the violent side she developed with the order. One that didn’t cause any real harm. She stole from the rich. They weren’t missing any of it anyway, and half the time that didn’t even notice.

She typically pawned the items off to the strangest people and never to the same one. While she may be dead as Ladybug, Marinette has contacts all over the world. Under false names of course. She was extremely paranoid. The girl could rival Batman in paranoia.

On one particular heist, she had a run-in with another thief. However, she wasn’t quite concerned about her surprise partner when Catwoman was standing in front of her.

“Hello,” Catwoman said with curiosity.

Marinette just stared.

“Quiet, huh, well either way that bag looks pretty full, hope you won’t mind if I take from this place too.”

Catwomen took jewels, that was a lot more noticeable than the stuff Marinette took. It would leave a trail. A trail Marinette didn’t need to be connected to her.

“Please don’t take anything noticeable,” Marinette mumbled.

“What was that kitten?”

She repeated slightly louder, “Please don’t take anything noticeable.”

“But what would be the point of stealing unless to piss off the rich people who live here?” Catwoman asked with a grin, “Unless you’re taking for your own personal gain.”

Mental note: Catwoman didn’t like people stealing for their own gain. Marinette wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

“I have kids relying on me, I can’t let this shit trace back to me,” Marinette carefully explained.

Catwoman examined Marinette. Truly taking the girl in by slowly scanning her body. She noticed the slightly raggy clothing she wore. Marinette didn’t wear a mask which made her look like a bit of an amateur to Catwoman. However, when the woman arrived at the house earlier no alarms had been triggered suggesting the girl did a good job sneaking into the house. It was risky, the girl clearly wasn’t new to this.

“You live on the streets,” Catwoman said.

It wasn’t a question, just a simple statement.

She continued, “You’ve stolen before. And you aren’t native to Gotham.”

All statements.

“Correct,” Marinette simply offered in return.

“Fine, let's get out of here and you can explain more to me,” Catwoman said as she headed the way she entered.

Marinette followed. She wasn’t quite sure why, but it felt like the right thing to do. On the other hand, Marinette was confused by the fact the notorious thief ended up taking nothing, had the woman really been so easily convinced by her.

///

B a c k i n T i b e t

“Masters,” a teenager greeted as they were welcomed into the elders' chamber.

“[REDACTED] you have been called upon by the gods, we hope you will accept the honor and visit them. They will give you a mission that you shall complete.”

Once again the unspoken words being: if you don’t do it you die.

“Thank you, I will visit them immediately.”

No one was ever called upon by the gods. At least no one is normal. In [REDACTED]’s lifetime, they could only remember one person who ever got the chance to meet them. Ladybug. And now Ladybug is dead. [REDACTED] assumed they were becoming the new golden child. Oh, how wrong could they ever be.

///

B a c k to G o t h a m

They were in a warehouse, mostly abandoned. It would be a good place to kill someone. But Catwoman wasn’t going to kill her and Marinette gave up that lifestyle a long time ago. In conclusion, no one was going to be killed, but Marinette’s paranoid brain kept reminding her this would be a good place to kill someone.

“How long have you been stealing?” Catwoman asked seemingly out of nowhere.

Against her better judgment, Marinette replied, “When I was nine.”

“You’re a runaway.”

“Technically an orphan, but runaway also works.”

“You're not even from around here, god the whole system is broken if kids not from Gotham are running away to Gotham,” Catwoman muttered.

“I’m not a kid,” Marinette corrected.

“You look ten, you’re a kid, who is looking after other kids, god that makes it so much worse.”

“I’m sixteen,” Marinette lied, she wasn’t going to give the woman her actual age.

“I wasn’t born yesterday, you’ve barely hit puberty, kid have you even gotten your period yet?”

“My what?”

Shit. She did not mean to ask that out loud.

Catwoman didn’t expect that. Fuck how was she supposed to explain puberty and periods to this girl?

She decided bluntly, “It’s when you bleed from your vagina.”

“That’s natural? I thought-”

It had never been explained to Marinette in the past. She thought something was wrong with her, but then it stopped. It had only happened twice so far, and the bleeding was always fairly light.

“Kid I think it’s time you had a talk.”

Catwoman gave a basic rundown on periods and puberty, she even pulled out some pads and tampons she had stored in the warehouse. By the end, Marinette had a bag filled with period products and a new talk to give some of the street kids.

“I never caught your name,” Catwoman said.

What the hell she had already told the vigilantes mine as well tell the rogues too. It’s not like they would be able to find anything on someone who doesn’t exist.

“Marinette.”

“You’re a good thief Marinette,” she complimented.

“Thank you.”

“I’ve been considering taking in an apprentice lately, you know, try and imitate the bat a bit. And you're the girl who keeps picking fights with Scarecrow right?”

How the hell did she know that. Never mind, it didn’t matter, Marinette had to turn down the offer anyway. She worked alone and wasn’t interested in being a sidekick.

“I won’t be your sidekick, I have things of my own to worry about.”

“Aw too bad, I was really hoping you’d say yes, show that Bat he’s not the only one who can have a bunch of kids following him around, but I get it you gotta keep yourself safe and those kids you said you look after. Good luck!”

And with that, she was sent on her way. What a strange day.

///

B a c k i n T i b e t a g a i n

“Tikki, are you sure about this?” Trixx asked.

“I am sure,” they replied, hushing the other god, “Lila Rossi please approach.”

The teenager kneeled.

“Lila Rossi, you have been called in front of the god due to your mastering of illusions. My chosen Ladybug has managed to gain balance in her soul. Ladybug now holds destruction that rivals creation. You will retrieve her from Gotham City and return with her alive. Do what it takes as long as she lives.”

Lila was stunned.

“But Ladybug is dead.”

“You humans are fools, she never died, I allowed her to roam without informing anyone to see if any of you incompetent fools would notice. However, she has gotten too powerful recently,” Tikki explained.

“I understand,” she stuttered.

Trixx moved to the front of the room, “From this day on you will leave behind the name Lila, and you will become Volpina.”

There was a bright light and then darkness. Volpina was outside the chamber.

“Lila,” an elder started.

“Volpina.”

There was an understanding, the elders bowed down to her, and Volpina’s mission started.

///

“I really don’t like this sugar cube.”

“I don’t remember asking for your opinion on my chosen, Plagg,” Tikki sniped back.

///

Notes:

Next week: Marinette has a couple of stalkers and a backstory that goes further back than she remembers.

#living among the regular people of the world trying to blend in #damienette #ml #maribat #enemies to lovers #ml x dc #dc x mlb

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inkofamethyst · 2 years

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February 6, 2022

There is the possibility (again) that I could possibly maybe potentially go up to [redacted: major US city] this summer (the one I was supposed to be in last summer). Nothing’s set in stone; really we’re just sort of writing in the coastline sand right now, but it’s a real possibility. I don’t wanna get overly excited about it because that’s what I did last summer before they had to make it online-only and even though the experience ended up being great overall, it did feel like something was majorly missing from it because it was virtual and not on-site. But even if I don’t wanna be overly excited, I can’t help but be a little excited. We are many months from summer, but we’ll see.

...Not to daydream or anything,,,,,, but if I did end up in [redacted: major US city] this summer, that could be pretty amazing (what’s funny is that I don’t even LIKE the city in practice. I’ve been there a few times and it freaked me out a little each visit. But the clout I could get if I tell people I lived there?? I’m all over that.).

And on the topic of clout,,, I have a unique opportunity to become, you know, one of the Smart Folk of my physics class. I both relish and fear the limbo that I’m currently in because a) well, let’s face it: I like people to think I’m smart. This is a known problem toxic trait attribute of mine. I like showing off. I like being revered. Why do you think I’m planning hoping to plop myself into a PhD program (clarification: there are multiple reasons, but me wanting a “doctor” in front of my name is certainly not the least of ‘em)? b) I don’t like disappointing people. I don’t like people thinking that I’m a fake. A quack. Not all I’m hyped up to be. (I’ll be honest: I’m pretty sure most of this is an internal flaw that accompanies me wherever I go as an Insecure Girlie. Relieving myself of the idea that everyone hates me until proven otherwise (some people are just indifferent) and that I must continue to prove myself worthy of not being hated is, admittedly, a work in progress. And progress is being made!) This is why I so often buffer my answers with “I think it’s [answer] because [poorly-stated but decent reason based on the notes], but really I dunno” in physics.

So we have this discord and I feel like it’s got potential to be a great space for collaboration especially since these homework problems suck so much 80% of the time, and I’ve already successfully answered someone’s content question. In theory, I should be able to do more of that, assuming I understand the concepts n stuff and I just nnnnnnnhhhh my desire to be simultaneously well known and to stay in the background are conflicting again. I’m not a TA, I’m not even a physics person like the reason I swore off engineering was because I found physics annoying four years ago (and maybe it would’ve been less annoying had it involved fun/challenging big girl math instead of algebra 1 problem solving (but I’m not complaining; I like my path and I’m pretty darn good with algebra)). But that doesn’t mean I can’t do physics well. I got an A last semester. A’s on every exam (except the final (typical for me, honestly) and with the curve lol). I did pretty darn well.

I don’t want to be relied on, but I like being known. I generally don’t like studying with others (some exceptions), but I really like helping others.

...I don’t think I’m going to shy away from it. If I feel confident, I’ll share my thoughts. I’ll be careful not to let myself and my identity get wrapped up in being The Smart Girl In Physics Class, because that can be very risky for me ~and my mental health~.

[update: 6 hours later] Man I hate studying with people. And maybe it’s partly because I don’t know how to ask for help. Maybe it’s because I don’t like being told I’m wrong desperately need everyone at all times to think that I’m right.

Anyway I think my funk after last week’s rehearsal was indeed (at least partly) due to going back to “old” music. We started introducing new music this week and that was fun. The roughness, the knowledge of “I am not sounding good” and that I will need to work on it... made me excited for the semester. And honestly? That’s amazing. Why? Because it means that I actually enjoy the artistic process!! Like, reflecting on it, that must be the case. Sure, I love my performance highs as much as the next performer (or I love getting a new article of clothing as much as the next maker), but I also enjoy the process of pulling something from a page and refining it until it gets to the point where it can be presented. Not to pat myself on the back, but that’s an awesome outlook to have, I must say. (And I can’t attribute this outlook entirely to just me. The choir director is literally so amazing and supportive and doesn’t give out any weird vibes like the high school choir director who was the music director for the musicals did.)

Today I’m thankful that my parents are so willing to buy me groceries when they come visit. If I ended up moving to [redacted: major US city], I surely wouldn’t get that treatment very often.

Returning to the initial idea... as cool as it would be, I cannot stress how terrified I would be as well. I’ve lived in a city before, but I was sort of just outside the true ultra-dense, skyscraper-filled heart of the city. I wish I had entries from back then to know whether I was scared before that, too (tangent: initially, I read that sentence back and thought “wow I must be really lonely to be looking at my past self for comfort” but no, I don’t think that’s it, I think it’s that I know I came out of that experience stronger, and I wanna know if I was nervous beforehand). On the other hand, that experience was a huge part of why I was so confident going into college. So... so maybe [redacted: major US city] would do that to me too. Increase my confidence, I mean. Hopefully without the panic attack lol.

And see, I’ll say that I’m scared, but if I get up there I’d probably be out exploring on my own every free second of the day.

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imhereforbvcky · 6 years

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Amnesia - Chapter 1

Masterlist - Part 2

Summary: When the Avengers need your ability to extract others’ memories, you agree to help but you aren’t prepared to work with Bucky Barnes. While you remember him with the bitterness of loss, he doesn’t remember you at all. And when you learn the fragility of your own memory, can Bucky’s support make up for the past?

Warnings: Swearing, violence

Word Count: 2619

Author’s Note: Ya girl’s an idiot and can’t stay focused on one fic at a time. So here is the first chapter of a fic that the beautiful and unbelievably patient @k-nighttt requested like a year ago. I’m so excited about this idea I’ve had a hard time paring all my thoughts into one cohesive plan, but now here we are! I hope it’s as cool as I think it will be.

Steve paced his office with arms folded, one hand near his face cycling between cradling his chin, chewing the end of his thumbnail, and rubbing his jaw. He hated bringing in new team members. The risks were so great it hardly ever seemed worth it. And yet here he was, with Phil Coulson on speaker phone, discussing just that.

“I need someone who can get in and out completely unnoticed, bare minimum in damage,” he explained, leaning over the desk with his arms spread wide in a stance that looked far more confident than he felt about this situation. “I need another Natasha who hasn’t blown all her covers.”

He shook his head at that thought. There was no one like Natasha; that’s what made her Natasha. Not only was this a risky idea and a complete shot in the dark, it was nearly hopeless.

“I think I know someone who can help,” Coulson offered after a hesitant pause.

“You do?” Steve asked accusingly, searching for the inevitable disappointment.

“She’s pretty green,” Phil admitted. “I mean, her skills are unparalleled and she has excellent command of them, but she’s used to working short-term stints, freelance contracts. She’s not the normal operative we send over to support you all--”

“Sounds perfect.” Steve was sold on the idea immediately. He liked ‘not the norm,’ he could understand it. And if it didn’t work it was easier to get out of it. “Send over a file and we’ll let you know if it’ll work.”

“Rogers!” Phil called into the phone just as Steve was reaching for the end call button.

“Yeah?”

“You need to know that she has a history with Barnes.”

Steve sighed, falling back into his chair. He should’ve known it was too good to be true. “You know that’s almost always a deal-breaker, Phil. They just can’t handle--”

“I know; but it’s not what you think. She’s not a victim,” Phil assured him. “Not one of his anyway. There will be redactions in her file and you need to leave them alone. I think you, of all people, can understand the need for trust between teammates.”

Steve scoffed. “Yeah, that’s why we try for full disclosure now. I can’t do my job if my teammates have different missions… someone could get hurt.”

“I can personally guarantee that the only one getting hurt will be her, if you go digging where you shouldn’t.”

With a heavy sigh Steve pinched the bridge of his nose. “This is a lot of trust for a new player.”

“You need her. I’ll send her over first thing.”

Memory is an elusive creature. It can grow as immense as a mountain, impassable and threatening; or it can dwindle to the softest sands that slip too easily away into oblivion until you’re left with nothing but open palms that you’re certain once grasped the truth. Memories can define a person, shape them, push them onto certain paths. And yet memories themselves are pliable, soft clay that can be reshaped by agenda, molded by fear, enlarged by sentiment.

Memory is slippery and deceptive. Dangerous. And it was your job to reach into the oceans of memory and pull out the sand, to hold it in your hand while those with agendas deciphered their meaning and passed their judgments.

“C’mon, sweetie, you know by now that I will get this from you one way or the other. Is this… loyalty really worth it?”

The woman at the table opposite you answered with only stony silence, resolute in her denial. You had to admit, she had one hell of a glare. Even through the gritted teeth and slow deep breaths to better shoulder the pain, her eyes bore into yours with burning hatred and rage.

“Guess we’ll find out,” you taunted, leaning forward over the table. She flinched away from your reach, or as far as was possible with her wrists cuffed securely to the table between you. A confident and neary sinister smile teased at your lips and narrowed your eyes as your hands rested gently against hers.

The instant your skin touched hers your eyes drifted closed and you returned your focus to the memories she was trying to hide. A soft groan reached your ears just as she balled her hands into fists, fighting the pain, fighting you.

It started with a little flicker of discomfort, like a brain freeze when you eat ice cream too quickly, and the longer you stayed connected, searching, digging, ripping through the memories, the greater the pressure. If you continued long enough it became a piercing, blinding pain rippling across the scalp and diving deep, like a splitting migraine, like a screwdriver jammed straight through the temple, like a clamp squeezing ever tighter just behind the ears. The longer you worked, the greater the agony.

But the pain was a side effect, not the goal. Interrogations that utilize pain as a motivator are ineffective at best. They yield as many lies as truths; subjects will say anything they think you want to hear to make it stop. You’d learned long ago to use your abilities in small sessions. Extract the information and minimize the pain to the extent possible.

This woman was nearing the end of today’s session. Much longer and she’d shut down, too much longer and she’d be unconscious. So you worked quickly, sifting through the tangled web of memory that lay before your eyes as long as you maintained physical contact and focus.

After a few short moments you closed one hand tightly around hers as she jerked away, trying to escape your searching as the memory and the knowledge played before her eyes as clearly as it did yours. You quickly reached for your pen and scribbled out the nineteen digits of a bank account and routing number.

“Thank you Ms. Sitwell, you’ve been most helpful,” you smiled politely as you pulled away, rising to your feet with the paper in hand.

She gaped at you, her eyes wide and angry, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. “I-I’ve told you nothing!” she rasped. “I-I declined! I declined to answer your questions based on my rights under… under the 5th Amendment to the United States Constitution. You can’t hold me here!”

“Oh yes ma’am,” you agreed. “You’ve said nothing to incriminate yourself, but that doesn’t mean the US Attorney’s office can’t use every other resource within their reach to build a case against you. And unfortunately for you, their pocketbook can reach me any time I need a new pair of Louboutins.”

A string of curses and the angry metallic rattle of handcuffs followed the soft click of your sleek black heels as you left the interrogation room. With a roll of your wrist and a flick of your fingers you held the small folded paper out to your boss.

“She’s got the District Judge in her pocket,” you explained. “She wires money into that account whenever one of her more important connections gets pinched. If you’re fast you can trace it to him.”

“Great work, as always,” he praised, turning from the two-way mirror and away from your perp. “You can pick up your check from accounting…”

“Yeah, yeah, I think I can remember that part, Coulson” you grinned, clapping him on the shoulder as you turned to leave.

“Ms. Y/L/N, I have another assignment for you,” he said quickly. You turned back at the door, raising an eyebrow. “Longer-term contract, no more on-call jobs, off-site so expenses are covered.”

“I’m listening.”

“Good. You’ll get the briefing at the Avenger’s Compound in New York this evening. I’ll tell accounting to have your flight information with your paycheck.”

Your eyebrows shot up, interest and surprise danced across your features. “You’re recommending me to play with your dream team?!” you asked, exaggerated awe creeping into your voice as Phil rolled his eyes and began walking out of the room.

“Don’t make me regret it.”

You followed, clasping your hands to your chest. “You’re sending me to work with your golden boy?!”

“No,” he corrected. “He’s requested some support, he’ll be giving orders while you’re--”

“Oooh, he’s my new babysitter.”

“No,” Phil turned suddenly, placing a firm reassuring hand on your shoulder. “You’ve done very well here. This contract arrangement works. But you have the potential for more. Consider this an opportunity to show The Agency that you can play with a team.”

You nodded, chewing on your lip. Teams were challenging for you. It’s hard to earn others’ trust when you can instantly see the ugliest, parts of their past while yours stays hidden in thick black government redactions. You work better alone.

“You’re going as tactical support to an elite team of superheroes. You could look a little happier about being selected for the honor,” he teased. “And don’t blow it!”

As the intentionally nondescript town car pulled to a stop in front of the Avenger’s Compound you took a deep breath. As a general rule, you made it your business to avoid organizations that seemed to collect people with enhanced abilities. You’d been used and exploited before, and now you preferred to call the shots. But this one… so in the public eye, what surprises could there really be?

With that thought to fortify your resolve, you stepped out of the car and took the bag from the driver. You slid it over your shoulder with a mumbled thanks and a nod. You ascended the steps in a quick jog, needing the momentum to outrun your nerves.

Before your fingers wrapped around the thick steel door handle the tall heavy glass was swinging out towards you. A burst of warm chaotic energy greeted you in the form of Tony Stark ushering you inside while holding the door open for you.

“Come in! Come in!” he urged. “Let’s get you set up before the briefing.” He didn’t give you a moment’s pause before he began leading you down the long halls at a brisk clip.

“Okay, getting right into business then,” you observed. You’d expected there would be some sort of trial period or dry run with such a tight-knit team, but evidently not.

“It’s always right into the deep end with us.” He made a steep diving gesture as he walked and shook his head ruefully. “If we need extra hands we probably needed ‘em yesterday.”

You chuckled and nodded as Tony stepped through a door into a comfortably sized apartment. It was neatly furnished with the essentials; comfortable but efficient. Perfect for you.

“Which is a shame,” Tony rambled on, “because I’d really love to have time to dig inside your brain. See how that all works. Is it like an electrode? Or more like a Wanda thing?”

You didn’t answer, as you glanced around the room. Your face was a wall of granite as you finally turned to him, concealing half a lifetime of people who’d asked the same questions more or less forcefully, half a lifetime of probes and scans and electrodes. Times you had absolutely no interest in repeating.

“Or… maybe a none of my business thing,” he nodded, clapping his hands together in an attempt to lighten the air and push the conversation elsewhere. “Well I’ll let you uh… unpack. Briefing’s in 20 minutes back by where we came in. D’you want me to… You’ll find it.”

“I’m sure I’ll figure it out,” you agreed with a tight smile that curved over your lips for a mere fraction of a second. He returned it with equal discomfort before nodding and turning out of the room.

Great. This team player thing was off to a fantastically terrible start. So far you’d run off the one person you’d met, and he was excited about your presence here. And you’d managed it with a whole two sentences. A new record.

You didn’t bother unpacking, as Tony had suggested. If you were to attend a mission briefing in twenty minutes, you’d likely pack half of it back up anyway. Instead you examined the room, tried to remind yourself what Coulson had told you: this was an opportunity and you needed to figure out how to make it work.

When the time came for the briefing you’d closed the apartment door behind you but hadn’t made it much further. You stood in the hall facing your door, or rather the glowing biometric lock beside the door, trying to figure out how the damn thing worked. You placed your hand on the screen and felt the warm laser swipe over your skin and tried the door. Still unlocked.

“What the hell…” you muttered under your breath as you crouched to look for buttons anywhere else on the device.

The sound of a soft low chuckle from behind you had a gasp tearing through your throat and your heart rate skyrocketing. You jumped visibly, clutching your open hand to your chest.

“Shit, you scared me!” you laughed, “I didn’t even hear you co--”

The words died in your mouth as you spun on your toes to address the man behind you. It felt like the wind had been knocked out of your lungs for a moment and they were slowly filling with fire. A hot wave of memory crashed over you, burning through every cell like wildfire, igniting a dozen emotions one after the other. Shock first, then the softness of nostalgia, followed by the sharp pang of the hurt, then the anger rose up soon after. The anger was the most familiar, the one you held onto. The bodyguard.

“Here let me help,” he offered with a small polite smile. He turned to the door directly opposite yours and fidgeted with a similar biometric display of his own before turning back to approach yours.

You glared at him, incredulous, utterly speechless with outrage.

“You just have to swipe first to lock it,” he said as he swiped his finger along the bottom of the display. A glowing blue lock icon materialized on the screen pulsing, waiting to complete the command. “There now put your hand on it.”

You didn’t move. Couldn’t move. Could hardly think, much form words or lift your hand.

He looked at you for a moment before his brow wrinkled in confused worry. “Are you oka--?”

“YOU!!”

He leaned back visibly under the force of the venom spilling from your lips.

“What the hell are you doing here?!” you seethed, your eyes narrowed on him. If looks could kill he’d have been dead already. Twice.

“I… That’s my room,” he pointed behind him, to the door across the hall from yours. You could practically see the gears still turning, it was written all over his face as he tried to understand your reaction. “I live here. I… this is home base for us.”

“You’re on the team?” you nearly shouted. “But you’re… you…!!” You threw your hands up, gesturing toward him in frustration.

“I’m what?” he asked, suddenly drawing tall, defensive and powerful. Since joining Steve with the rest of the avengers he'd begun to forgive himself for the dreadful parts of his past. He'd moved on, used them to help make the world safer, better. Or so he hoped. And he'd be damned if he let anyone manipulate him again. He wouldn’t be intimidated by ghosts.

“Hey Buck, you comin’?” Steve’s warm commanding voice rang down the hall. “Oh hey, you must be Y/N, welcome to the team!”

Bucky’s full attention snapped to you. His unyielding cold stare met your own along with a huff of disappointment. His gaze never faltered when he spoke to his friend.

“We’ve got a problem, Steve.”

HUGE thank you to @cassiopeiassky for beta reading this! I would have stared at it for another month if not for your kindness. You’re a darling.

Tags: Strikethrough means Tumblr wouldn’t let me tag you. Let me know if you’ve changed your URL and I’ll update. Otherwise check your settings. If I can’t tag you thrice, I’ll remove you from the list.

Everything: @blacwings-and-bucky-barnes @creideamhgradochas @johnmurphys-sass @nykitass @learisa @4theluvofall @ailynalonso15 @amillionfandoms-onlyoneme @amrita31199 @assbutt-son-of-a-bitch @badassbaker @bethy-sue @brandnewberettaa @caitsymichelle13 @calaofnoldor @callamint @caramell0w @charlesgrey1875 @cojootromuelle @denialanderror @dracsgirl @dreamtravelerme @ek823 @emilyinbuffalo @epicbooklove @feelmyroarrrr @forgottenswan @ginamsmith (2) @givemethatgold @glittervelvetandlace @haleyloveshugs @heartsaved @hellomissmabel @-hiddlesdweeb- @hollycornish @httpmcrvel @i-am-mrsreckless @iiharu-kunii (2) @imheretomarvel @indominusregina @ishipmybed @isnt-the-blog-youre-looking-for @itsnotsomefangirl @james-bionic-barnes @jurassicbarnes @justreadingfics @just-call-me-your-darling @kanupps06 @kapolisradomthoughts @k-nighttt @kaaatniss @ktrivia @langinator @larry-pringles @lilasiannerd @loki-god-of-my-life @lovelyladylilac @luckylundy13 @maddyfitzhenry @manonblxckbexk @marvelatmytrash @mcfuccfairy @megs4real @melconnor2007 @midnightloverslie @moonbeambucky @morduniversum @movingonto-betterthings @mrs-brxghtside @mrs-lamezec @nikkitia7 @omalleysgirl22 @palaiasaurus64 @part-time-patronus @pcterpvrker @pickledmoon @pineapplebooboo @rivervixen1998 (2) @rockintensse @doublestufthoreo @rrwilson66 @ruinerofcheese @sammysgirl1997 @science-of-deduction-sh @saharzek @sebbytrash @secondstartotheright-imagines @sgtjamesbuchananbarnes107th @shifutheshihtzu @simplyashley95 @sociallyimpairedme @sophiealiice @stupidsweaterwearingdumbdorks @tequilavet @thatgirlsar @thebitterbookeater @theliarone @thelastxgoodthing @theraputicwritings @three-dango @unlikelygalaxygiver @w1nterchild @waywardpumpkin @winterboobaer @witchymarvelspacecase @wordsturnintostories @xnegansgirlx @zoejohnson8 @cassandras-musings @lame-lozer (2) @tired-alpaca @sapphire1727 @whyisbuckyso @you-didnt-see-that-cuming

#bucky x reader #bucky x reader angst #bucky barnes x reader #bucky fanfiction #avengers fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #bucky barnes #amnesia part 1

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porthavenhq · 4 years

Photo

Welcome to Porthaven, Cass! We can’t wait to meet Neo Politan!

Please look over the acceptance checklist and submit your blog within the next 24 hours. If there is a problem or a prior obligation and you need more time than provided, just message the main and we will gladly extend!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　OUT OF CHARACTER　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Name: Cass Pronouns: she/her Age: 20 Timezone: EST/NY Activity Level: 6-8/10. Because I’m currently in college for a STEM major it’s completely normal for me to just drop off the radar entirely, come back, and then vanish again. I’m more active on Discord anyway so– Triggers: nah Anything Else: man it’s been so long since i’ve rped with this type of group… all the nostalgia is coming back to me…

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　CHARACTER INFORMATION　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Name: Neo Politan (was [REDACTED]) Age: 26 (July 11th, 1994) Gender: Cis female FC: Wong GaHei (ViVi)

Character Biography

Neo had always been a girl of mystery ever since her birth. While some assume she simply appeared out of nowhere and others say she came from a powerful line of illusionary mages, it wasn’t like Neo would spill anyway. Originally known as [REDACTED], Neo lived in a quiet little town in the mountains. While both of her parents were Mundane, it came as a shock when at the young age of three years old, Neo had transformed from their normal child into an… entirely different one? It just didn’t make any sense.

Things only got worse from there, as the young girl quickly took advantage of her newfound abilities and would use them for petty crimes and bullying. This would continue until a sudden accident happened when she was around high school age that caused her to flee her old life. While she would never tell what happened, the incident rendered her unable to speak for the rest of her life. Neo moved from town to town, abusing her powers just to get what she wanted no matter the cost.

On one such particular day, she had tried to scam a particular redhead and was quickly found out. Instead of beating her down, the man only chuckled and held out a hand, introducing himself as Roman Torchwick. Despite her initial hesitation, the two would get along immediately and Neo became his partner in crime for a number of incidents, including a giant dust raid where they stole millions of dollars worth of dust from a few vaults. Neo’s name was talked alongside Torchwick’s, but in fear rather than admiration. A Mundane stealing Dust alongside one of the most powerful illusion mages? It was unthinkable.

The beginning of the end of Neo’s wrongdoings with her partner would culminate when Roman accepted a few jobs from a sketchy boss. Neo, after snooping for a bit, would soon come to realize that said boss was quite the narcissist, wanting to “take over the world” or something boring like that. Sure, it was an admirable goal, but all Neo really wanted was the money, not a slice of the world conquering pie. After a heist gone wrong, Neo had discovered that perhaps this entire thing with their current boss was too risky even for the both of them. It was easy for her to ‘escape;’ all she had to do was fake her death, shift into a completely different person, and flee.

It was unfortunate that Roman had to leave too.

Time passed between then and now, and Neo being upset was the understatement of the century. She had lost all contact with probably the only person that treated her like a normal human being and it absolutely tore her apart. Instead of immediately hopping back into the underworld, Neo laid low across the country as she patiently waited for the whole thing to blow over. The world was constantly changing, they’d forget about her eventually. Despite everything, Neo still looked for Roman in any way she could. Bribes, odd jobs, you name it.

Eventually, she heard a rumor that Roman was currently hiding out in a city in Maine called Porthaven. Neo thought this was too good to be true, and initially believed it to be a trap waiting for her. However, after mulling it over for a bit, Neo came to a decision to follow said lead. Seeing this as a golden opportunity to catch up with the man she hadn’t seen in a long time, Neo packed her bags and moved to the small town up in New England. Even then, something about the little town to her was always a fresh start to spread more mayhem.

Headcanons

If needed, Neo can communicate via ASL. She chooses not to do this when committing any sort of crime because why would she need to in the first place? Sometimes uses her illusion abilities to communicate as well.

Known to be a bit… dramatic when it came to crime and fighting off anybody that crossed her.

Took several odd jobs in an attempt to mesh with normalcy. She always happens to ditch the jobs every three months before assuming a new form and applying to another one and vice versa.

Tried to get that same buzz she had with Torchwick with another crime lord. Neo ended up ditching them within a month due to “personal differences.” If asked about it, Neo will sign something about how “ungrateful” the other person was, but will never elaborate further than that.

In case things go south with her powers, Neo can also use a sword disguised as a parasol.

Sees Porthaven as a means just to get to Roman and is simply passing through. She highly doubts anybody but Roman should recognize her due to her laying low.

Won’t hesitate to get her hands dirty with not so favorable jobs.

She seems a bit skittish around demons.

#phqacceptance #multifandom rp #fandom rp #animated rp #animation rp #cartoon rp

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sailingurl-blog · 7 years

Text

A cheap risk strategy

Risk is the basis for life, given the advance of civilisation is entirely change-based. What if our species said, ‘nuh, sorry…I’m out – going back to the cave, folks.’

Because innovation is a change event, and humans are neurologically change-adverse – our primitive, instinctive reptilian brain function simply rails against it.

Business even constructed a communication framework to support people through workplace change, which manages organisational risk variables regarding adoption.

Otherwise, risk management is big business in its own right; as related to workplace safety and economic prosperity. However, with a world of scientific evidence in the information and technology ages, organisations continue absorb unnecessary risk.

Like Australian firm Denovo Consulting who, this week, ignored the evidential publication of their unethical business practices across three top social media platforms, with 48hrs and 24hrs respective notice to act.

This is good. It’s 2017: people know there’s a problem with unethical business. We don’t care which way business chooses to practice; we just want to know who is worthy of our trust and respect. Because smart professionals don’t align their brand with business that they aren’t proud to be associated with.

It might have escaped the attention of Australian business, but non-physical intangible assets such as brand equity, intellectual capital and goodwill are the dominate means by which they create value.

In fact, Harvard Business Review article, Risks and Reputation, put the American economy’s intangible market value at between 70–80%—and that was a decade ago.

Seven West Media chairperson Kerry Stokes and Beyond Blue CEO Jeff Kennett are great examples of brands willing to absorb reputational risk in their current crisis management mode; ie. risk management occurs well-prior to an adverse event.

Stokes backed his CEO, workplace lothario and sex scandal protagonist, Tim Worner who tabled a December media conference announcing a 91% company loss in six months.

‘Tim Worner, himself, continues to enjoy full confidence of the board as our CEO, where he is doing an outstanding job and he leads the best media team in Australia,’ Stokes told journalists.

‘There is no governance issue…the board will have no further inquiries. We were disappointed, we were forced to make such a serious investigation into such irrelevant allegations that have no substance at all.’

Apparently, Twitter-redacted SMS messages between Worner and Seven West combatant Amber Harrison, whereby Worner professed to being a chem-sex god, were inadmissible.

Stokes added he had received only four messages from concerned shareholders thus revealing his shareholder theory subscription; managers must maximise shareholder returns at all costs.

This is opposed to stakeholder theory, whereby a manager will balance shareholder and stakeholders’ interests; eg. employees, customers and the community, even if it reduces shareholder returns.

Again this month, Stokes further damaged his brand in refusing to release the audit report, clearing Worner of misconduct including corporate expenditure of $600k in three years.

As a result, former Royal Women’s Hospital Foundation Board chairperson and president and respected Gilbert + Tobin lawyer, Shelia McGregor immediately resigned the board citing ‘ethical issues’.

As for Kennett – the Seven West board member and Australia’s premier depression advocate is reimbursed $127k annually to represent an organisation that endorses well-documented female employee harassment.

So what would be the cost Seven West to mitigate the current reputational risk crisis? Apparently, only $245k owed to Harrison who contests the agreed separation fee was short.

That’s one arsey billionaire, I reckon – especially one indicting that they directly influence what future inquiries the board undertakes?

We know it would cost Kennett $127k to ensure his well-crafted benevolent image remains intact; but what would it cost for Denovo Consulting to protect their brand?

Nada…beside a direct hit to patriarchal pride. A couple of paragraphs, stating the bleeding obvious that could in fact win them business – sorry is still the hardest word to say.

And even professionals are getting it wrong, with advertising guru and fem-icon Jane Caro announcing on Monday breakfast television that two women featured in the now defunct Ultratune ad were ‘aliens’.

When Twitter-queried, Caro created a strawman as advocate against plastic surgery for ‘young girls’ standing by the vilification to her 17k+ audience, thus rendering a recent column professing to being a ‘woman’s woman’, as absolute crap.

Interestingly, risk is difficult to define – traditionally there’s little consensus: because how does one measure objective and subjective risk?

In 1921, Risk, Uncertainty and Profit author Frank Knight boils it down to this: risk is quantifiable uncertainty; eg. someone skydiving sans parachute suffers no uncertainty – they will die.

The engineering profession defines risk as the ‘product of the probability of an “undesirable” event occurring including expected harm assessment.’

But what about those life curveballs that impact psychology and ultimately, personal risk management frameworks? Like my old man – post Vietnam War.

Having survived a gunshot wound to heart and lungs, his brain injury reframed the definition of danger; ie. people are more dangerous than nature. So, Dad built a 38ft heavy weather boat and we sailed round-the-world for three years – in his words, he was ‘keeping us safe’.

Adventurers are natural risk-takers; but they prime for as many known-unknowns as possible. So he prepared – smelting 12.5 tonnes of lead for keel ballast…right though to lead-lining the massive diesel engine bay.

Noise minimisation is important on a yacht. Built for wind, sailors engage engine power during risky manoeuvrers – like navigating a rocky entrance in a rolling swell, or for example, locating someone overboard off Shark Bay, West Australia at 3am in 3–4 metre seas…when we lost Mum.

In short, we-three teamed up and reversed Honeychild under engine power to her plaintive cries, ‘over here, over here’. Coming up port side, Dad with superhuman strength, reached into the drink and lifted Mum out, wet clothes and all – thus rendering $200 worth of foam lead-lining as priceless.

Whatever we know about risk, this is true – that undertaking risk, properly conceived, is often rewarding. And that’s the paradox: the real risk, is in not taking a risk. Just don’t forget the bloody lead-lining!

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