survivcrsguilt

[survivcrsguilt]

It has been a long time since Ella visited Genosha. These days, life has become busy for her and while she sees Jesse regularly, phone calls have been her main way of communicating with her grandfather in later years. Being close to Jesse has come with regular updates about the family and so Ella knows that something had been going on with the older mutant, even though everyone seems to be beating around the bush about it.

They all came to visit for Hanukkah the previous day, thinking it would be lovely to get everyone together again for once. Ella's younger siblings Ava and Lyra are racing around the house with the same skateboard that Jesse once used to teach Ella. The twins are much calmer these days and are somewhere inside trying to teach Jesse how to play Fortnite and while the women are in the kitchen talking about dinner plans, Ella has decided to join her grandfather in the living room. Nimble fingers reach out for the cup of tea on the table next to him and when she finds it cold, Ella takes it to the kitchen, asking her mom for a new one.

Persephone seems to have woken Erik when she returns to the room and Ella grins slightly. "I did. It was ice cold. Mom's making a new one for you. Did Persy wake you?" Her gigantic wolf familiar keeps close to Erik these days and everyone likes to joke about it, saying she senses that the mutant is getting old and needs a guiding dog. But Ella knows that the reason for it is different. She can see it in the thousands of golden threads that tie Erik's life together, which have been snapping more and more over the years, but never as rapidly as they do now. Persephone is a harbinger of death around humans and she can sense just like Ella that his days are numbered.

He knows, Ella is sure. It's why he wanted them all to come for the holidays like they used to, why he often sits quietly and just observes, as if he is taking in scenes for the last time. And she, as someone whose gift is death, can sense it around him. She has come to terms with her powers through the years and has grown painfully accustomed to sense death around people she knows, but it hits differently this time, because it is her grandpa and it is not just a vague shadow of death, but the absolutely inevitable. The threads will sever one after the other, until his tether to life is gone. It happens to everyone, but she isn't sure she is ready to say goodbye yet. Persepone stops liking his hand and lies down at his feet again, while Ella flops into a chair opposite him. "I brought my book, you know. The one we used to write in when I was little and came over for Hanukkah." He taught her everything about their heritage, about his parents and their traditions and Hanukkah used to be her favorite holiday, because it was just theirs. The others never came over for it and so she had something that connected them.

plotted starter for whichever one of Erik's family members wants to pick up the conversation and explain that this idiot fell asleep and let his tea go cold @wcrriorhearts / @mxndwitch / @survivcrsguilt

Erik Lehnsherr does not get sick. It’s a statement of fact, an acknowledgement of the way the world is; the mutant has had injuries aplenty, but he could count on one hand the number of times he has been genuinely ill. Meaning that, when his heart starts to fail, he is quick to notice.

It’s to be expected really, at his age. Auburn hair has long since greyed, and the strands around his temples are most definitely heading for white. Muscles and joints are not what they once were, and on bad days it can be painful to work with his hands; his days of sewing are long gone. His limp is more pronounced now than it ever was, and he frequently relies on the manipulation of magnetic fields to move about the island with any kind of ease. Erik has reached an age that, to most, would be entirely unthinkable. He knows the time he has left is short.

And still, he goes on. The mutant is not afraid of dying – hasn’t been afraid of that since the age of sixteen – but dying means leaving his family, his loved ones, and he will take every moment with them that the universe will allow. He will wring as much time from this life as he can, will hold on with everything available to him, until he is forced to let go. In the meantime, he is determined that his family will have no cause to worry, or to fear. And if his heart needs a little encouragement from his mutation every so often, then what of it? Nobody needs to know.

The unexpected wetness on the back of his hand jolts Erik awake, confused gaze taking a moment to focus on the world around him. He’s at home, in his favourite armchair, and Persephone is sitting at his feet, licking his hand in a way that means she’s hoping for either food or a scratch behind the ears. The mutant blinks a couple of times. Did he fall asleep in the armchair again? How embarrassing. A quick glance towards the familiar voices he can hear in the kitchen. Hopefully they didn’t notice his little nap.

Calloused fingers receive another lick, and with a small smile Erik obliges the request, lifting his hand to rest it on top of Persephone’s head, gently scratching his thumb behind one of her ears. His other hand reaches out to retrieve his cup of black tea from the nearby table, but instead grasps only air – it takes a couple of attempts before he realises the mug is no longer there. Forehead furrows. “Did someone take my tea?”

[survivcrsguilt]

twinxsai​:

   The nonchalance of the other woman is something of a surprise – usually those who walk in on Elektra’s ‘work’ are afraid, or angry, or readying themselves for a fight – but then, she supposes, they are not usually familiar with the profession of a murderess. Dark eyes narrow, assessing, as the woman steps over the corpse and heads for a painting ( – expensive, Elektra recognises the piece – ) hanging on the wall. The mention of payment, combined with the lack of concern about the growing pool of blood and the weapon on her hip, all speak of an understanding of this line of work. This woman won’t be shocked by something as commonplace as a corpse.

   “Unfortunate for you: it’s all a matter of perspective.” Long legs pace around the sofa so she can better see the neat piles of cash the woman pulls from the safe. Footsteps still thud in the distance, but she elects to ignore them. “But you are still getting paid.” Elektra doesn’t bother to mention that, by the time she’s completed her job, there won’t be anyone left to seek justice (or revenge) for the body on the floor; the entire empire will crumble. “And I am about to acquire an original Klimt to hang above my bed.” A gesture towards the painting that had concealed the safe. “So I’d say we’re both winners here.”

Ella glances over her shoulder at the words of the other and her gaze drift to the ugly painting she has pushed aside to access the safe. It eludes her why people would spend a fortune on art, but to each their own, she assumes. Money means very little to her in general. She has amassed a small fortune at this point, because she collects her payments and barely ever uses any of it. The dept owed is only a sign of a job well done and she sees it as a form of appreciation, not a means to buy her things she wants to have. Solely because she desires little. The apartment she lives in is owned by her. Food is something she pays for, but that’s about it. Clothes she steals and modifies for her needs and field of work and she never learned to enjoy small luxuries that others her age would appreciate. “I’d love to see you walk out of here inconspicuously with a painting under your arm��, Ella points out in Elektra’s direction, before putting the money into her pocket and closing the safe, then covering it with said painting again. If the other assassin wants it, she can take it from the wall.

“Well, it was a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Elektra. I have to get to other jobs”, she states plainly, because she knows who the other woman is. Their field of work is not exactly female dominated. She turns to leave, but her genetically modified ears pick up footsteps two floors down heading their way. “Disappointing. We’re getting company in approximately 4,5 minutes. 5, he is losing stamina already on the stairs”, the young girl mutters, listening and almost lazily triggering the mechanism inside her suit that allows a blade to slide into the palm of her hand. Even though she has a gun, she barely ever uses it. Blades are so much more intimate and she loves the thrill of using them. “I’d take that painting off the wall, if I were you. I am sure the hulking brute has triggered the security system and this place will be swarming with police in no time. So if you want it, you have 3 minutes and 37 seconds left.”

[survivcrsguilt]

Raffey Cassidy

[survivcrsguilt]

somewherebetweenrage​:

   Erik knows his granddaughter doesn’t want to do this. He’d have to be stupid not to notice. But he has years of experience she doesn’t, was training young mutants before even her mother was born, and consequently understands the value of pushing against the barrier of limits again, and again, and again. He refuses to sell her short and undermine the progress made so far by going easy on her.

   It’s what he tells Jesse when his son comes to advocate on Ella’s behalf: that he knows what he’s doing, that the girl needs a loving push to help her grow, that the moment anything goes wrong or becomes unsafe they will put a stop to the whole exercise. It’s not the answer Jesse wants, but he knows his father well enough to understand there will be no movement on this – not unless Ella herself asks it and provides a good reason.

   He’s fully aware there’s some silent communication going on between his son and granddaughter once he’s entered the kitchen – knowing them, it would be more unusual if there wasn’t – but he doesn’t acknowledge it. Instead blue-grey eyes roam over Ella’s face for a few moments, observing, assessing, before he nods his assent. “Let’s get started.”

   Jesse remains close, his hand a firm tether to this world, while Erik takes a step back and kneels down to Ella’s eye level. “Just like we practised before, okay? Into that realm and as far as you can safely go,” – he knows his language is clumsy, and probably doesn’t come anywhere close to describing the experience, but it’s the best he can do so Ella will just have to bear with him – “then once you’ve done that we’ll see if we can stretch those ‘muscles’ any further.” Expression shifts from reassuring to stern. “Anything starts to go wrong you tell me immediately, understood?”

Jesse’s hand is warm in her own, but she can feel that his palms are just as sweaty as hers. Even though they are uncle and niece, they have always been like the true siblings of the family. While Ella has little interest in her actual siblings, Jesse and her have been two sides of a coin their entire lives and he knows how uncomfortable this situation makes her. He also understands how dangerous it can get, should she lose control, or make any other mistakes. The realms she frequents are dangerous ones and Ella is unsure whether she has what it takes to safely visit them and stretch the boundaries of the unimaginable.

When Erik kneels down in front of her to be on her eye level, Ella wants to tell him that traveling into the realms she can access is never safe and that all of this is probably a bad idea, but he likes to point out that there is only growth when you are willing to step out of your own comfort zone, so there is no need to address her worries over and over again. Once upon a time she was desperate to be as powerful as everyone else in her family, but she no longer thinks that all abilities should be explored to the fullest. Especially not by girls of fourteen, who doesn’t yet know who she is in general, let alone how to navigate being blessed with powers that others can barely begin to comprehend. Hers are nothing like those her mother and grandfather have, or even Jesse. 

���When things go wrong, I will not be able to tell you anymore”, she mutters, because there are two worst case scenarios in this: getting possessed and wandering too far into the spirit world, so that her soul gets lost and she can not return to her body. Both options she would rather not work with. Glancing over at Jesse, he gives her hand a squeeze and a crooked smile forms on his lips, which she returns, before closing her eyes. In the past, she has learned how to open the doorway inside herself and allow her mind to wander enough to enter other planes of existence. The one she has always been able to access the easiest is the spirit realm, but that is not where they are going today. Her grandfather wants her to explore the others she generally avoids, so the plane of the Night King it is. She has always seen him in her dreams and knows she enters his world when she can control her powers less, so she knows what it looks like and who frequents it. They are all demons there, hungering and lusting for the dreams of people, so they can feed off their desires and fears.

A wind picks up in the room, though all windows are closed and Ella’s eyes are glowing white as she opens them, before they turn into a dark, glowing blue, not unlike her own, except that her iris is golden, like the light of a thousand stars. She has found out that white is for the spirit realm, dark blue and gold for the Night King. Actually, Jesse discovered it once, when he sneaked into her room and she was dreaming with her eyes open. Her consciousness leaves the kitchen and is only subtly aware of the hand that tethers her to the world she belongs to, as she stands in the middle of a dark desert, constellations ever changing in the sky above. The wind in the kitchen comes from the other place, where it plays with the strands of her long hair and beckons her to follow. And she does, just like her grandfather has told her to. She is not aware of the dark shape taking form behind her, as the Night King finds her wandering and smiles to himself. Stupid little girl who left the door wide open for him to pass through. He has always wanted to play with mortals in their own world. What a great opportunity. The wind in the kitchen ceases as he enters their world and closes the door behind himself, locking the girl out.

“Something is wrong”, Jesse says, eyes snapping to his father. “I cannot feel her anymore.”

[survivcrsguilt]

Raffey Cassidy

[survivcrsguilt]

Ella nervously chews on the nail of her thumb, her other hand scratching at the surface of the kitchen counter. She can hear her grandfather and Jesse in the living room next door and it seems like they are arguing. Ella knows exactly why; she has told Jesse that she doesn’t really want to explore her powers further than she has done before, but her grandfather is confident that it will help her. He believes powers have to be explored and pushed to the limits, so that they can grow and evolve. Ella has only ever scratched the surface of what she can do in some areas of her abilities and she knows that there is a lot more waiting for her in the depth she left untouched so far. Yet - some doors should not be opened and she feels like this is one of them. 

Erik believes that if she pushed far enough, she could actually leave this realm and go to another. The gate just has to be opened wide enough to allow her in. She understands the theory of it, but has never dared to do it. So far she only opened it a crack, so that she could pull whoever she wanted into their reality and not venture into another herself. That thought is slightly disconcerting, because what if she isn’t able to come back? But her grandfather wants to help her get more confident, so that one day she will be ready to enter the realm of the dead. Luckily that is not today, because Ella is already incredibly nervous to try at all.

A moment later, Erik enters the kitchen and Ella looks up. Jesse lingers in the doorway, shrugging slightly and she gives him a smile to convey that she is grateful for his attempt at letting her grandfather know she is scared. She would not tell him herself, because she doesn’t want to disappoint him. All she has ever wanted was to be cool like her family members, but now she is scared to explore what she can do. Erik has trained her for months now and Ella has made progress, but this is the last hurdle. “Alright”, she mutters, slipping from the bar stool she has been sitting on. Jesse moves to stand next to her, because they have discovered that she needs an anchor that tethers her to this realm, when she travels too far. His hand slips into hers and she laces their fingers, grateful he is there. “Are we all ready?”

                                       @somewherebetweenrage​ gets a plotted starter

[survivcrsguilt]

unheald​:

sophia hadn’t made a move for her gun or her knife, not yet. while she knew how to defend herself, and knew not to trust easily, surveying the situation, she did not want to do something that she didn’t need to – that wasn’t who she was. wasn’t who she wanted to be. perhaps there was an element of naivety in this situation too… looking at the younger girl, seeing part of herself in her. alone in the woods, fending for herself… maybe that was partly why she hadn’t put up any defences just yet. that and the fact that the other girl didn’t seem to be posing any immediate threat to her. 

it was strange, though. that her dad had seemed to have left his camp unattended, with cooked meat – a precious thing in this world out on display. had something happened? there were endless possibilities of what could be happening here, and sophia knew it’d be best to stay alert and aware at least.  “ have you seen him? the man who lives here? “  she asked, keeping feet planted in spot, not making a move towards the girl who was seemingly surrendering.  “ did you see him leave? “ 

Ella felt like an animal, trapped by  hunter. It was rare that she had contact to other people, because she avoided it. Everyone was a potential threat, even the girl who was barely older than herself. Under different circumstances, she would have believed that someone so young would not hurt her, but she had to remind herself of the fact that she was 12 and had killed people in self defense. This world was INSANE and everyone did whatever they had to in order to survive.That was one of the first things she had learned from her brother: First we survive and then we find our humanity again.

When the girl asked about the man whose camp they stood in, Ella nodded. “Yes. He’s by the creek. I set up one of his traps, so he’d leave his camp with dog. But he will be back soon.” Her gaze drifted back to the beautifully cooked rabbit and the smell almost made her sick from hunger and longing. It was hard to find food out in the woods, even harder now that the Whisperers were in charge and took everything for themselves. “I’ll just leave. I haven’t taken anything”, she insisted again, moving a tentative step backwards, closer to the edge of the camp and treeline.

[survivcrsguilt]

gcroinya​:

FAUX  EXASPERATION  IS  A  LIGHT  SHADE  IN  HER  EXPRESSION,  FALLING  INTO  TINY  LINES  BY  HER  EYES.  fingers wiggle in a  ‘hand it over’ fashion and knife twirls between her fingers once it’s safely secured. how familiar the blade, how soothing the metal —— as if it is just an extension of her own hand and, in fact, the better part of it. that’s why it looks like she has an unlimited amount of patience where others seem to lack it. she simply knows, feels it in her bones.

❝ you try cutting a cucumber with a butter knife, мальчишка. ❞     actually, never mind. considering that everything can be made into a weapon, natasha knows it could be applied to kitchen utensils too. not that it’s the place to wage war in, though. but it’s not about that, is it?     ❝ i have a mission tomorrow. ❞     a beat.     ❝ want to join me? ❞ 

SHE HANDS THE KNIFE OVER, but not without a sigh. Natasha is unfortunately very perceptive and always notices when Ella tries to nick something. Maybe it is because the older woman has gone through a very similar upbringing and understands how the girl’s mind works. Luckily, she never gets angry, never punishes Ella or does worse things to her, like she was used to.

When Nat asks her if she wants to come along on a mission, Ella stares at her for a moment, assessing, evaluating whether this is a JOKE or a serious offer, but when the other keeps smiling invitingly, the girl gapes. “Like...really?! I can come?” She has begged Nat for months now to take her along, insisting she is ready to work for the good guys, but no one aside from herself has been very confident in that. She is only 12, after all.  A wide grin appears on her features. “Of course I want to join! What are we gonna do? Where is the mission??”

[survivcrsguilt]

She should have gone with a DIFFERENT career. After spending years of her life trying to adapt to normal society and somewhat succeeding, she is right back where she was always meant to be: killing people. It’s the only thing she seems to be GOOD at and in a perverse, twisted way she ENJOYS it. There is a very satisfying component to the way it feels when the light snuffs out in someone’s eyes and you’re the reason for it. After all of her childhood was spent in blind obedience and fear of the people who raised her, she is in charge now. Which doesn’t mean that she assassinates victims left and right as long as the money is right. Even Ella has some sort of moral compass that she sticks to and chooses her jobs carefully.

This was not supposed to be a JOB, however. She has come here to get paid for a kill done two days prior, instead she has entered the house knowing something is amiss. The guard in the lobby has not seen her, nor does he seem to have noticed the second assassin. What an idiot. She finds her employer in the expensively furnished living room, dead on the floor, with another woman standing over her. Ella silently lingers in the doorway, until she is finally noticed. She knows who her counterpart is, of course. Elektra. They have never met, but her reputation precedes her. “I would have preferred if you killed her AFTER I was paid”, Ella remarks dryly and steps over the corpse, to walk over to a painting on the wall, which she takes down to access the safe behind it. She’s watched money being taken out of it once and remembers the combination very well, so she just helps herself to the money she’s owed. “Now it’ll look like I did this. Unfortunate.”

kinda plotted starter for @survivcrsguilt

   Elektra Natchios isn’t the kind of person who messes around. Sure, she likes to have fun – loves the thrill of danger, the adrenaline rush that comes with playing with fire, the elevated heart rate and breathless laughter – but she isn’t stupid. If there is a job to be done then she will do it, her own enjoyment forced to play second fiddle until it’s complete (– except, of course, when it isn’t, but that’s another story). Which is why the sound of footsteps doesn’t echo down the corridor until her target has been slumped on the floor, blood pooling around her chest and soaking into her cream-coloured blouse, for at least forty seconds.

   Black boots skirting carelessly around the red pool, the assassin uses the woman’s expensive-looking skirt to wipe her katana clean, inspecting it carefully before returning it to its case on her back. Dark eyes sweep over the room in one quick, assessing look, before turning in the direction of the door– and stopping dead in her tracks. In the doorway is another woman, young, armed, silent – those footsteps that clatter in the corridor clearly don’t belong to her – who stands with her eyes trained on the body on the floor and a frown on her features. Elektra suspects that this woman won’t let her simply leave: good thing she’s always enjoyed a challenge.

[survivcrsguilt]

shieldretired​:

                           STEVE HAS TO SUPPRESS AN EVIL CACKLE when he sees Ella’s face at the prospect of Steve maybe flirting with one of her teachers. Listen, he’s been her age; and although his mother never openly flirted with anyone (different time, different upcoming, and she probably never got over her dead husband Joseph), Steve knows that there is a time in the life of a teenager where every adult is just plain embarrassing. She’ll get over it, though. And it’s something she can share with all of her classmates, after all.

                           Ella’s following words and subsequent apprehensions, however, sober Steve up rather quickly. It’s a topic Bucky should talk about with her, but oh well. “Listen, I doubt it would be like that. If Bucky’s serious with that lady, he will tell her the truth. Keeping something like this a secret is not a good foundation for a serious relationship. Also, his face is literally in her daughter’s history book, and he can’t really do anything about that, can he? And when he tells her about himself, he’ll tell her about you, too, later. So you wouldn’t have to pretend at home. Alright? But Ella, I’m serious here: Don’t you try and force him to decide between the two of you just because you don’t like Mrs. Sanchez or her daughter. That’s not okay. If you got a serious issue, you can always talk to Bucky about it.”

EVEN THOUGH ELLA IS NOT A TYPICAL TEENAGER, she has at least mastered the art of getting second hand embarrassment from basically everything these days. Especially - but not exclusively - everything that has to do with love. It is a concept she doesn’t fully understand, but also doesn’t want to see. Kissing is gross and the idea of Bucky doing it with a woman is even worse. The only thing she really LIKES about this relationship is the fact that she gets evenings to herself that way, when she is allowed to order food and go to the gym for as long as she wants, because Bucky is out of the house.

Steve’s scolding just confuses her, because why would she tell Bucky what to do? There is a part of her that will ALWAYS think of him as her handler, no matter how well she adjusts to another way of thinking. Therefore she will adhere to his orders and rules and do what she is told, even if she doesn’t like it. If that includes pretending for the rest of her life, she’ll do it, albeit begrudgingly. Brows furrowed, she shakes her head. “Why would I force Bucky to do anything? She’s my superior.” A shrug follows and she focuses her attention back on her history school book. 

[survivcrsguilt]

somewherebetweenrage​:

   Expression relaxes into a gentle smile as Ella greets him, softening at the name that she has been calling him since she was small, and will hopefully continue to call him for a long while yet. Adjusting the way he rests his weight on his bad leg, Erik returns her hug with both arms, pulling his granddaughter close and pressing a kiss to her temple.

   “You weren’t supposed to know I was coming - that’s the point of a surprise,” he responds, voice warm from the smile still curling at his lips. The mutant doesn’t leave Genosha very often these days, content to resume his hermit lifestyle with Laga at his side and let their family visit them instead. But with his partner away visiting Bjorn and his children, Erik has taken the opportunity to visit the mainland and his own family.

   “Jesse said he would try to visit when I last saw him, I’m glad he managed to.” He falls into step beside Ella without further prompting, accustomed enough to his limp and cane that the two no longer slow him down, though still grateful that the building contains a lift. “Your grandma is as healthy and as beautiful as she always is, meanwhile I’m getting old.” The statement is made without a hint of sadness or regret; Erik never expected to reach this age, and he certainly never expected to do so surrounded by a loving family and treasured friends. The silver in his hair may be starting to rival the auburn, but to have reached this age is a blessing, and he never ceases being grateful.

   A glance over to Ella as they arrive at the lift and she reaches out to press the button to call it, but he pushes it with his mutation before she gets there – just to make her smile. “Come on then – show me the place where my genius granddaughter works.”

Sometimes Ella is still very much a child mentally, especially when she is around her grandpa and parents, who don’t really age, hence giving her the impression that she, too, is still the little girl she used to be. Granted, they actually do age, but much slower than ordinary people, which means they almost look just like they used to when she was little. Her grandfather sports a few streaks of gray throughout his hair and beard and his limp reminds her painfully of her past mistakes, but he still has the same smile, same laugh, same calloused hands that have held her own through the years.

“You’re not getting old. You only look like 5 years older than you did when I was 5″, she chuckles and waits until the elevator doors have closed behind them, before she hugs him once again, rising to her toes to kiss his cheek. Her parents’ visit isn’t always appreciated, because she thinks it’s a little embarrassing that everyone knows who they are, but her pawpaw is more than welcome to surprise her any day, especially because they don’t spend as much time together anymore as they used to. No more school holidays on Genosha, but she tries to reserve the holidays for family anyway.

“I’m not a GENIUS, grandpa”, Ella laughs and shakes her head, nudging his side. “Just a little smarter than most family members.” The boys are still mad about it. Ava has never cared, but given the fact that the twins are also entirely human, they find it quite unfair that Ella also gets to be the smartest sibling. So they still hold the record of being the most trouble, which says a lot, given that Ella has caused her fair share of chaos thanks to her powers through the years. The doors slide open again without a sound and they step into a bright, modern corridor. “This is my floor! I mean, not mine exactly, but everything here is part of my project. That’s the lab over there, conference room and my office”, she announces, pointing at everything as they walk past, before opening the door for Erik to enter her office. It is airy, with ceiling high windows, a massive desk, several computers, a couch and some chairs that she has pushed to the side to spread out plans all over the floor, which she now hastily picks up to make space. “We’re working on time travel at the moment.”

[survivcrsguilt]

NATASHA HAS CAUGHT HER SLIPPING YET ANOTHER KNIFE INTO HER SLEEVE, but at this point Ella doesn’t even bother trying to hide it anymore. Instead she has just shrugged with a grin and handed it back. Flattering her has not changed the fact that she is supposed to part with the desired object, which dampens the mood, but the 12 year old is getting used to these new rules and attempts to teach her better way. Habits that are not aligned with her indoctrination by Hydra

“I left you the butter knives”, she points out nonchalantly, nodding towards the first kitchen drawer. “And I only have about...7 knives hidden in my room.” Plus minus 5. She hasn’t counted them in a while to be honest, mainly because she doesn’t only steal them at home, but also wherever else they go. They give her a sense of safety in a world she is still vastly unfamiliar with.

@survivcrsguilt​ said:  “ very few people understand me, but you do.” ╱╱ RANDOM DIALOGUE PROMPTS 2.0 ╱╱ accepting

AND  THAT  UNDERSTANDING  IS,  UNQUESTIONABLY,  AS  BITTER  AND  THICK  AS  A  SPOONFUL  OF  TAR  IN  THE  METAPHORICAL  BARRELL  OF  HONEY.  almost a quiver at the corner of her mouth whenever she tastes it. almost. let the sleeping dogs lie, as they say ; there hasn’t been a thought, a doubt, a worry that hasn’t been processed and chewed into a paste over and over again. what it is, what it means to UNDERSTAND. it’s not pity over her own bleak and frozen past, rather a realization of what mistakes will be made in order to have a future that will be… there.

and thus her smile is not bitter, not even a grimace of a shadowed past.

                                          from a kindling you will grow into a raging fire.

❝ you know you can only use this as an excuse once a year, right? ❞     easy to justify a lot of actions if only you ask ‘what would natasha do’. doesn’t mean that she’s a role model, far from it. understanding rarely breeds approval.

❝ you can’t have all of the knives in this house hidden in your room. ❞

[survivcrsguilt]

“We are the granddaughters of the witches you weren’t able to burn.”

— Unknown.   (via holtbekah)

[survivcrsguilt]

shieldretired​:

                                STEVE JUST BLINKS FOR A SECOND. He knows the cat’s name, of course, because his neighbor says it all the time when he is over at her place for teatime and playing rummy with her elderly friends, but he can’t remember telling Ella the name nor Ella ever interacting with old Mrs. Donovan from next door. Well. She’s a Hydra kid and Bucky’s foster child. He’s sure she has her ways of getting some intel. Steve follows her to the front door, puts on some shoes, then keeps the door open for her and the excited dog.

                           "Wait, what? You don’t — you don’t buy children, you adopt them.“ He doesn’t sound super convinced, though, because it would fit this capitalistic country to have to pay for wanting to give a kid a better life than it would get in the system. And honestly, what does Steve know? He doesn’t want children, he never wasted much thought on how adopting a kid might work. He finds himself getting opinions now, though. "Uh, I guess you already have — some documents? Because you need them to be enrolled in a public school? I don’t know. You could ask Bucky about it.”

                      “YEAH YOU DO”, Ella insisted, shrugging as she was putting her shoes on. “I googled it. You have to pay thousands of dollars for a kid, so essentially it’s not much better than slave trade or buying a puppy. Not that I care much, I just thought it was weird.” Cookie is very excited next to her and she has to keep a firm grip on his leash as she struggles with her left shoe, because otherwise he would probably just run out in his desire to get to the park as fast as possible. 

Walking out with the dog in tow, she considers Steve’s words and shakes her head. “I can’t ask him, because it would indicate that I want to be adopted and that’ll put pressure on him. Maybe he doesn’t want to adopt me and I don’t care either way, I was just curious.” She speaks very quickly, which always happens when she is trying to talk her way out of a situation. It hasn’t been a coincidence that she looked up how adoption works, but it doesn’t mean she feels the need to share that with anyone. Ella hasn’t been particularly interested in the logistics of how Bucky made it possible for her to stay with him, until a girl at school was taken from her foster family against her will and returned to the parents who abused her. So what if someone comes for her? “Would it be easy to take me from Bucky and put me somewhere else?”

[survivcrsguilt]

shieldretired​:

                          STEVE WINCES A LITTLE. “I’d rather you call me Uncle Grant if it’s really necessary.” Roger is the name it a really old guy — which he kinda is, he knows that, but he doesn’t look his age, so he’d rather go by his middle name: It’s what he uses if he really doesn’t want people to recognize him because he’s too busy for Captain America bullshit or just not in the mood to give autographs and smile for cameras because he needs to get his shopping done and maybe dribbled mustard on his shirt after eating a hot dog in Central Park or something.

                           "And I can’t promise anything. Because if you got any cute teachers? I might try to flirt with them,“ he adds with a grin. There’s only about 10 % probability because Steve’s gaydar is broken or non-existent, and he doesn’t want to make an idiot of himself by barking up the wrong tree, but if Ella has a cute teacher that maybe starts flirting first? Steve won’t say no to that. "And hey, don’t be like that. I think he really likes Mrs. Sanchez, and he deserves some love after everything.” He gets them both a glass of water, then sits at the kitchen table. “Uh, I can do that, sure. You’ll learn all of that in school, though; so are you sure you wanna hear about it before it comes up in history class?”

𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐀 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒𝐓, because ‘Grant’ is still part of his name and therefore not good enough as a cover, but she swallows her comment, because Ella doubts that the others know enough about Steve Rogers to be aware of his middle name. Her handlers have drilled that knowledge into her, but other kids in her class have grown up very differently. They sometimes talk about the Avengers, but Ella doesn’t expect them to know details. She recently heard one of her class mates call Sam Wilson the former Eagle. So much for knowing their superheroes. “Fine, Uncle Grant”, she agrees with a shrug and lets the topic rest, hoping desperately that no one will recognize him, because she hates attention.

The next statement leaves her MORTIFIED, because that is a day in her life she never wants to experience. Bucky flirting is terrible enough, so the idea of an evening with BOTH of the only parental figures in her life flirting with other people is too much to bear. She blinks quietly for a moment, trying to push the images forming in her head away and swallowing down the rising regret of having invited Steve. The art night might turn into a disaster. “Yeah, but how’s that gonna work out long term, Steve? We’re not normal people. The only place I don’t have to pretend is at home. But normal people cannot know who we are, so I’d have to pretend to be someone every day of the rest of my life, and so would Bucky. That’s like being undercover for an indefinite amount of time. I don’t think I can do that. I’d have to move out”, she says very seriously, before nodding. “I do wanna know. I already read the school book and it’s not what I want to know. It’s just boring politics trying to make the USA better than it actually was.”

[survivcrsguilt]

Her gaze is intently fixed on the simulation on her tablet, eyes following the movement that is almost perfect. ALMOST. Not quite though and Ella sighs. It’s her first attempt at this project and nothing ever works out immediately, but she wished it would. It might be an easy fix, however, with some tweaking of the calibrations, so she looks at the calculations again and tries to find the mistake. The Zephyr came back from space with something equivalent to a time machine and everyone is obviously very interested in finding out how it works, Ella included. So far, all she knows is that the thing is malfunctioning and randomly jumping between times, but not why.

The phone in the lab buzzes and she looks up briefly, trying to ignore it, but the ringing remains persistent. Sighing, Ella puts the tablet down and answers, hearing that someone is waiting for her in the lobby. The receptionist’s voice sounds tense and nervous, so she assumes it is one of her parents waiting for her downstairs. Everyone always gets very worked up over their presence and given Ella is only 22, they stop by frequently - whenever she hasn’t picked up her phone in a few days, because she has been too busy.

She takes the elevator down and her lips curl into a wide smile at the sight of her grandfather, as soon as the metal doors slide open. “Pawpaw!”, she calls out cheerfully and almost runs over to hug him. Given she is not 7 anymore, she keeps herself from doing it and only walks faster, before wrapping her arms around him. “I didn’t know you would stop by! What a great surprise. Stephany, we will be in my office. Please send Maisie up with refreshments”, she requests, briefly turning towards the receptionist, who nods nervously. “Come, I’ll show you around! I saw Jesse today as well, he came to spend his lunch break. How are you and grandma?”

they didn’t ask for a starter but @survivcrsguilt​ is getting one anyway

   Walking with a stick, Erik has come to learn, is one of the quickest ways to come across as non-threatening. Apparently people’s prejudices run so deep that he can walk right up to the reception desk of his granddaughter’s workplace – a SWORD facility no less – entirely unnoticed and unrecognised. Were he a more generous person he might point out the flaw in their security (and he probably will to Ella later), but instead the ex-terrorist is far more concerned with the person he’s come to see.

   “I’m here to see Dr Ella Barnes.”

   “Is she expecting you?” is the automatic response of the receptionist, brown eyes never leaving the screen in front of him.

   “No.”

   A pause, the young man’s brow furrowing. “I can give her a call and ask if she’ll see you. What’s the name, please?”

   A sigh. “Erik Lehnsherr.” Finally the receptionist glances up towards him, movements stuttering as he realises just who is standing in front of him, eyes flicking down towards the phone handset and computer keyboard, then back up again. Erik forces his face to remain neutral — being gratified when people are fearful of him isn’t exactly fitting for a man his age (and yet, there remains something in it that still strokes his ego, even now). “Call her – she’ll see me.” Shakily lifting the phone from its cradle, the man does as he’s instructed, bony fingers jabbing in the correct extension number and waiting for it to call through.

   “Dr Barnes? You have a visitor at the front desk.”

[survivcrsguilt]

somewherebetweenrage​:

   The small party leave the building without any further incident; with every employee dead or unresponsive, and help from the police or army a long way off, there is no-one left to challenge the mutants as they stride down darkened corridors and back out into natural light. All of them blink a little in the sun, Ella turning her face into his shoulder to shield her eyes — which encourages the horrible idea of how long she’s been shut in that awful room to resurface in his mind, turning his thoughts blood-red and clouded. His granddaughter’s words pull Erik from those dark thoughts and refocus him on the world around him. “Your siblings are fine - they’re with Laga.” Gaze dips to the top of her head. “They’ll be glad to know you’re safe, as will your parents.”

   Typically, on the occasions he’s been involved in bringing down facilities like this in the past, there has been careful attention paid to making the destruction untraceable (usually through fire), but today Erik doesn’t care if this can be traced back to him; he just wants it gone. Feet still carrying him away from the building, mutation reaches out behind him, grasping hold of the metal threaded through walls and foundations, woven within electronic equipment, lying dormant within each corpse. For a couple more steps he holds onto them, needing to be certain he’s at a safe distance, Ella still held securely in his arms and jaw clenched tightly as he turns around and brings the entire building crashing down. They’ll never come for his family again.

   Accessing medical help for Ella turns out to be a little more complex than he’d wanted it to be. Erik had hoped (perhaps naively) that teleporting into SHIELD headquarters with a bleeding child would prompt some sort of helpful response, but instead all it seems to do is cause a mess of shouts and guns and panic, everything spiralling in frustrating circles of confusion until he bellows his demands over the noise: a doctor, right now, and a call to Phil Coulson or Daisy Johnson (because God forbid he has to deal with any of the other half-wits here). He’s not sure whether it’s the name dropping or the reminder of Ella that spurs the idiots into action, but either way his words produce the desired results; the shouts transform into calls for medical aid, and several agents distance themselves from the group and begin frantically tapping their phone screens.

   What ensues is nearly an hour filled with conversations all somehow designed to grate upon Erik’s nerves in the worst way. Anger and adrenaline still pump through his body, combining with fear for Ella to make him snappish, irritable, and highly impatient. Every repeated suggestion that he should leave his granddaughter with the doctors is met with a snarl, every nervous request that he answer ‘just a couple of questions’ is met with a growl. Each test and tube and needle that comes within several metres of the girl makes his jaw tighten, and each hand that touches her makes his fingers clench into a fist. The whole time he stays, waiting, watching, easily within Ella’s eyeline, hand resting tenderly on her cheek or in her hair, grey-blue eyes silently promising her that he’s here, he isn’t leaving — until, finally, they are left alone, and Erik finds himself breathing out for what feels like the first time in hours. She’s here. She’s alive. She’s safe.

   Mutation pulls a chair from the corner it rests in so he can sit beside her, aching body slowly lowering itself onto the white plastic as he reaches for her hand. Thumb gently rubs over her fingers, remembering a time when she was so small that she could barely hold his thumb in her tiny fist, heart warming at the precious memory, expression softening. “How are you feeling?”

Ella has never been sick to her knowledge, so her exposure to hospitals has been minimal. She remembers going to visit her mother after she had the twins, but that’s about it. Aside from a runny nose and a minor cough every once in a blue moon, she has been as fit as a fiddle, which everyone blames on her father’s enhanced healing. Even though she apparently got nothing else from him, at least his heritage boosted her immune system and kept her away from needles and scalpels until now. It is a relief to be far away from the place that has contained her for almost two days, but after the scientist stuck needles and tubes into her already, the examinations are anxiety inducing. She knows that no one here wants to harm her, but it doesn’t change the fact that her memories from the past 48 hours are triggered and she has to do her best not to fight the nurses.

But Erik is there beside her the whole time and Ella doesn’t like to fuss. She is no baby anymore and it would be childish to cause a scene, just because she is scared, in pain and exhausted. In all honesty, she wants her parents to be with her, but she would never say that out loud, because she doesn’t want to hurt her grandpa’s feeling. He is one of the most important people in her life and Ella loves him endlessly, but parents are still especially needed in situations like these. She doesn’t doubt, though, that her pawpaw has already messaged her parents somehow and that they will get here very soon. They will be so upset over everything that has happened and Ella hopes that Erik will deal with that, or else she’ll just pretend to be asleep until her parents have calmed down.

She must have dozed off for a moment, because the gentle touch on her hand startles her awake again and Erik comes into focus. “I’m okay”, she replies, doing her best to sound convincing, but simultaneously starts crying right away, because she is NOT okay. This was a very scary experience and even though she always wanted to be an Avenger, she might have underestimated the danger and fear that comes with it, let alone the physical repercussions. According to the doctors, she has lost a lot of blood and is currently hooked up to a transfusion. The drugs injected into her have also done some damage to her kidney and liver, which should be reversible, but is causing issues at the moment. Last, but not least, she has a fever from a possible infection, so that’s all great, given she is on summer break. She reaches out for her grandpa to hug her, but her arms are very weak, so she just pulls his hand closer and snuggles her face against it. His phone buzzes in his pocket and unbeknownst to Ella, it’s a message from her mother.

[text: Wanda] Is my girl okay??? Shield called Bucky and me and said she had been kidnapped. What is going on??? I’m on my way back and will be at the hospital in 15min